“Mr. Fisher, we have a problem. What part of ‘no cops’ didn’t you understand?”
Herbie was aware of Stone’s and Dino’s eyes on him, as he spoke to the man he knew must work for Tommy Taperelli. He said casually, “I understand.”
“You’re having dinner with the commissioner of police.”
“I’m out with Stone and Dino. They’re trying to take my mind off things.”
“I assume you spoke to the councilman. Anything he told you is strictly confidential.”
“At the moment, I can’t even think about business.”
“Think about this. What I told the councilman goes double for you. If you mention his daughter, you won’t be seeing his daughter. Capiche?”
“I have to be in court tomorrow morning. I hope to be back in the office tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s the ticket. Play it like that and no one gets hurt.”
The line clicked dead.
Herbie put the phone back in his pocket.
“Who’s that?” Dino said.
“Bill Eggers. Wants to know when I’ll be back to work.”
“Does he know your fiancée was just killed?” Stone said.
“I don’t know my fiancée was just killed,” Herbie said. “According to Dino, she was a con artist. Was her name even Yvette?”
“That part was true. Yvette Walker. It was on her rap sheet.”
“She had a rap sheet?”
“Yes.”
“For ripping guys off?”
“No. For prostitution.”
Herbie sighed. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. I’m like a three-time loser who can’t break away. You try to go straight and get sucked back into the life.”
“You get any more crank phone calls?” Dino said.
Dino was really just changing the subject, but after Taperelli’s phone call, the question threw Herbie. He blinked. “Huh?”
“I don’t think you will. That had to be Taperelli’s men trying to scare you. They hadn’t seen the news in the paper yet. Now that they have, they won’t call again.”
“That’s more proof the burglar did it,” Stone said. “The threatening phone call proves it wasn’t them.”
Herbie sighed deeply, rubbed his forehead.
“Sorry,” Dino said. “I know you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m okay,” Herbie said. “It’s just so much to take in.”
The food arrived and the waiter slid the plates onto the table.
“Eat your steak,” Stone said.
“I’ll try,” Herbie said. He smiled gamely. “I doubt if I’ll be able to taste it.”
Stone grinned at him over his mouthwatering mountain of meat. “I beg to differ.”
79
Mookie called Taperelli back. “You spoke to him?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I think he’s clean. Just a case of friends taking him out to dinner. Did they react while he was on the phone?”
“Not at all,” Mookie said. “He played it very cool. He might have been confirming a business appointment.”
“I think it’s okay. I think he’s scared to death, particularly after what happened to his girlfriend. He’s not going to put another girl at risk.”
“So it’s just another ordinary dinner?”
“Looks like it.”
“So can I knock off?”
“If he goes home, sure. Just so he don’t go anywhere else.”
Mookie was pissed when he hung up the phone. Herbie and his friends had just got their dinner. They’d eat it slowly, savoring every bite. They wouldn’t be done for hours. When they were, it would be late and they’d go straight home.
Mookie was hungry just watching them.
He jerked his notebook out of his pocket. Who did he have on tonight? Gus, Chico, and Cousin Lou were all there. Paulie would be coming on to overlap Gus, who would be leaving at midnight.
Mookie looked up Paulie’s number and gave him a call.
80
Dinner broke up around ten. Herbie declined a ride home, saying he’d rather walk off his meal. It was only a few blocks anyway. He set off in the opposite direction, surreptitiously glancing around him as he went.
Herbie probably wouldn’t have spotted Mookie, who was an old hand at surveillance, but Paulie was another story. A driver first and foremost, a bodyguard second, he was as subtle as a bull in a china shop. Herbie spotted his tail within one block. He had such an easy time doing it he kept looking around for someone else, in case Paulie was the rough shadow he was supposed to spot and ditch, while the smooth shadow took over. After a couple of blocks he’d concluded there was no such thing. The guy was just bad.
Herbie walked home. His doorman had been avoiding him ever since the murder, not knowing what to say. Herbie walked up to him and plowed through his apologies. “There’s a guy following me. I’m going to walk over to the elevator like I’m going upstairs, but I’m going to duck in the mailroom instead. Go out on the sidewalk like you’re looking for a cab, but don’t hail one. See if the guy across the street is still watching the building, or if he’s walking away. Big guy with a crew cut.”
The doorman gulped. “Yes, sir.”
He was back thirty seconds later. “The man you described is walking away.”
Herbie tipped the doorman fifty bucks and went out the front door.
Paulie was on the far side of Park Avenue. He reached the corner and took a left.
Herbie hurried to the corner and caught the light. He crossed the street and tailed along behind.
Paulie kept going, crossed the street, and went into a garage between Lexington and Third.
There was a cab coming down the block. Herbie stepped out in the street and hailed it.
The cabbie had a five-o’clock shadow and a Brooklyn twang. He half turned in his seat and said, “Where to, buddy?”
“Right here.”
“Huh?”
“Pull over and put your blinkers on.”
“We’re not going anywhere?”
“Yeah, we are, in a minute.”
“Where we going?”
“I don’t know.”
“I gotta put down a destination.”
“Put it down when we get there.”
“I gotta put it down now.”
“Yeah, but we don’t know it now, so we put it down when we get there.”
A car pulled out of the garage.
“That’s him,” Herbie said. “Give him a head start and pull out.”
“Give him a head start? What is this?”
Herbie slapped a fifty-dollar bill across the back of the seat. “This is fifty dollars. There’s another fifty at the other end if you do as I say.”
“Is this illegal?”
“No. You have a perfect right to drive where you want.”
“But you’re following this guy.”
“I hope so. If you lose him, you don’t get the fifty bucks.”
“I’m not sure I wanna do this.”
“Okay. Drop me off next to a cabbie who does.”
The cabbie gave him a look, but pulled out and started driving.
The car was stopped at a light on Second Avenue.
“Stay back. If he spots you, you don’t get the fifty bucks. And he’ll probably shoot you in the head.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“Yeah. I’ll still give you the fifty, even if he shoots you in the head.”
“I don’t wanna do this.”
“I’m kidding. It’s fine. Here’s the other fifty. There’s two more at the other end if you get me there and he hasn’t spotted us on the way.”
The car went over the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge and drove straight to a shabby house in Queens. There was a parking space out front. The guy parked the car and went in.
“Drive on by,” Herbie said.