“I guess people as rich as Annetta still call them servants.”
“Mostly, I think, they call them staff.”
“It’s just you, then, who calls them servants?”
“I call them staff, too.”
“Is there a ballroom?” Dino asked.
“I believe so, but I haven’t waltzed across it.”
“How old is the house?”
“Turn of the century — the last century.”
“Then they must have stables, too.”
“Maybe they relabeled them as the garage. On the other hand, they could have had cars about that time.”
“What was that about jazz?” Dino asked.
“Joan says we should look in jazz clubs.”
“Well,” Dino said, “this is a jazz club, sort of. I mean, there’s a jazz group at the other end of the bar.”
“Did you see Junior up there on the way in?”
“No.”
“Neither did I. That eliminates this joint from the list of jazz clubs.”
A waiter appeared, and they ordered a roast duck and a bottle of good red wine. And another drink.
Georgette stopped at their table to greet them.
“Georgette,” Stone said, “why don’t you stock Knob Creek?”
“We sell High Rock, instead. The owners are friends.”
“You couldn’t sell both?”
“If I tried, people might not order my friends’ bourbon.”
“You have a point.”
“I’ll send you one on the house.” She departed for other tables.
The bar area began to get very crowded with people waiting for tables. Somebody cranked up the sound system a bit, so the jazz group could be heard better.
Stone peered through the crowd. “Funny, I thought I caught a glimpse of Eddie Jr.,” he said.
“Where?”
“Down at the other end of the bar, where the jazz is coming from.”
Dino followed Stone’s nose. “It’s pretty crowded down there.”
“Want to take a stroll and see?” Stone asked.
“What for? A ‘stroll’ in these circumstances just means elbowing people out of the way and pissing them off. Then, if we found him, he wouldn’t come quietly, and we’d cause a scene. But if he did come quietly, we’d lose the duck while we wait for a squad car to pick him up, and I’m hungry.”
“Why don’t you just call the Nineteenth’s homicide squad and tell them there’s a reported sighting of Junior here. Let them figure it out.”
“That’s a thought.”
“Better yet, tell them to wait outside until Junior leaves, so we won’t piss off Georgette by making the bust at her bar.”
“An even better idea,” Dino said, getting out his cell phone. He spoke for a minute or so, then hung up. “They’re on it,” he said. “You want you and me to back them up?”
“Not if the duck comes before then. I confess I’m more interested in the duck than in Eddie Jr. He’s your problem, after all.”
“No, he’s the squad’s problem now. I’m just as interested in the duck as you are.”
“We’ll see the lights when they show up.”
“No, I told them not to use the lights and sirens. There’ll just be an unmarked car or two.”
Stone saw a car stop outside. Four burly men got out and headed for the restaurant.
“They’re here,” Stone said.
“So is the duck,” Dino said, tucking his napkin under his chin.
Twenty-One
They were halfway through the roast duck when Dino looked toward the bar and pointed his knife. “Hey, my guys got Junior!” The four cops were muscling a protesting man toward the front door. The jazz group leaned back, so as not to get knocked down.
“No, they don’t have him.”
“What do you mean? They’re getting him cuffed.”
“It sure looks like him, but trust me, that’s not Junior.”
“Then why are they cuffing him?”
“Go figure. They’ll sort it out at the precinct.”
Georgette appeared at their table. “Dino,” she said. “Your cops are dragging one of my best customers out of here.”
“You mean Eddie Charles Jr.?”
“No, I mean Marv Kelly, my favorite billionaire.”
“Dino,” Stone said, “go save the NYPD fifty million bucks.”
Dino put down his utensils, wiped his greasy face with his napkin, and leaned into the crowd, using his elbows. He reached the front door just in time to stop the cops from dragging the billionaire into the street. Stone watched and laughed as Dino flashed his badge and yelled something at the cops. He uncuffed the man, dusting off his shoulders and apologizing profusely, while shouting at the cops. He turned the man around and walked him back to his seat at the bar, then produced his card and made the “anything I can ever do for you, call me” speech. It seemed to be working. He signaled the bartender to bring a double of what the man had been drinking. Then he backed away, still apologizing, and finally made it back to the table.
“Good job,” Stone said.
“It’s your fault,” Dino said. “You didn’t tell me he was the wrong guy.”
“I did tell you he was the wrong guy, but you were so occupied with the duck that you ignored me until Georgette intervened. You got there just in time to avoid the attention of the Post’s front page tomorrow morning. Chances are, you’ll still make Page Six.” That was the newspaper’s gossip column. “If you’re lucky, you’ll come off as the hero who saved the day. If you’re not lucky, then you’ll be explaining things to the mayor first thing tomorrow morning.”
Dino returned his attention to the duck, only to find that Stone had eaten all the best parts while he was attending to the matter out front. “This is what I get for being a good guy?”
“No, it’s what you don’t get.”
“I was hungry!”
“I was hungrier. And I thought you were heading for the precinct.”
Georgette came by the table. “Thank you, Dino, for fixing something that was your fault anyway.”
Dino could only sputter.
“There’s plenty of bread left,” Stone said.
“I want duck!”
“They’ll have to start all over. At this time of night, it’ll take at least an hour. Order some cheesecake, that’ll fill you up.”
“Yeah, but it’s not duck.”
Dino grabbed a passing waiter’s sleeve. “Another duck,” he said.
“We’re all out, Commissioner. You got the last one.”
Dino slumped in his chair, finally defeated.
“How about a nice slice of cheesecake, on the house?”
“Oh, all right.” It came, and he wolfed it down. “Okay,” he said, “let’s get out of here.”
They threaded their way through the crowd at the bar. Dino paused to apologize to the billionaire again.
As Stone passed he said to the man, “They treated you very badly. I hope you’re suing the NYPD.”
“Good idea,” the man said. “You want to be my witness?”
“I didn’t have a good enough view,” Stone said. “Maybe next time.” By the time Stone got into the street, Dino was slamming the car door, and the vehicle drove off without him, leaving him in the gutter, shouting at the rear bumper.
It had started to rain. Stone hoofed it over to Fifth Avenue and finally got a cab, but he was soaked.
Twenty-Two
Stone was at his desk the following morning when Joan buzzed. “Dino, on one.”
Stone picked up. “Thanks for the lift home last night.”
“Thanks for the duck,” Dino replied.
“No thanks necessary. I put it on your tab.”
“Of course you did.”
“You’ll be happy to know I got soaking wet before I could find a cab.”
“You’re right, I feel better already.”