“Sandy,” Stone said, “what is your wish?”
“I wish my acquaintance to dematerialize,” she said, “and reconstitute himself somewhere else.”
“I think that’s very plain,” Stone said to the man. “But I’ll translate for you: the lady wishes you to go away.”
The waiter appeared with their steaks, elbowed the man out of the way, and served them.
“Now,” Stone said to the man. “It remains only for you to leave us in peace.”
“Perhaps you’d like to step out onto the sidewalk,” he said, indicating the side door to the street.
“Oh, Bryce,” Sandy said, “really now. I’ve had enough of you.” She made a shooing motion. “Scat.”
“Would you like me to translate that?” Stone asked.
“I’ve issued you an invitation,” the man said to Stone.
“Declined,” Stone replied. He reached into his coat pocket and produced his NYPD badge. “Would you like the assistance of some gentlemen in blue? There are two parked outside in a police cruiser.”
That gave him pause. “Another time,” Bryce said, and left.
“His full name is Bryce Newcomb,” Sandy said, “in case you’d like to hunt him down and thrash him later.”
“I will not devote a single brain cell to remembering that name,” Stone replied, “nor an ounce of energy to thrashing him.”
“I didn’t make you for a cop.”
“That’s because I got over it some years ago. Now I practice the law instead of enforcing it.”
“How remunerative of you.”
“I didn’t leave the NYPD quietly,” Stone said. “They threw me out.”
“Was it something you said?”
“Said, and said repeatedly,” Stone replied, “but their excuse was a bullet in the knee.”
“They shot you?”
“No, I was previously shot, in the line of duty.”
“So you are now a pensioned invalid?”
“No, I recovered and am now an attorney-at-law, but I took their pension anyway. It keeps me in bourbon.”
“And how did you make this legal leap?”
“I already had the law degree when I enrolled at the police academy, but I still had to pass the bar exam, which I eventually got around to. An old law-school buddy gave me some work, and it ensued that I made partner.”
“Was that the end of your professional road?”
“No, after that I made senior partner, so I hardly have to work at all.”
“I’ve noticed that about senior partners in other fields — medicine, for instance. Do you often come to this place alone?”
“No, I usually come with an old friend, who was my partner when we were homicide detectives about two hundred years ago. But now and then he has other demands on his time.”
“Before I forget, you shouldn’t think that Bryce Newcomb has just gone away.”
“He has a vengeful heart, does he?”
“To the extent that he has a heart, yes.”
“So I should watch my ass?”
“That puts it very nicely.”
“Will my badge cover me?”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” she said. “He’s an unreasonable sort.”
“How does he earn his daily bread?”
“He doesn’t. An ancestor or two made that unnecessary.”
“One of those, huh?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I have a client like that who has turned out to be a lot of trouble. Well, not a client, exactly. I’m his trustee, appointed by his stepmother, whom he is suspected of murdering.”
“Are there a lot of suspects?”
“Only one, thus far.”
“Well, with two trust-fund babies in your life, I suppose you should really watch your ass.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
Forty-Four
They left the restaurant together.
“Thank you,” she said, “perhaps another time?”
“Another time, what?”
“I’ll have a drink at your place.”
“You anticipate me.”
“It saves time.”
“May I drop you at your place?”
“Assuming you can get a cab. It’s starting to rain, and they don’t like getting wet.”
Stone lifted a hand, and a taxi screeched to a halt.
“Well done,” she said, climbing in. Stone followed her into the cab. She gave the driver her address, and he drove on.
“Your address is in Turtle Bay?”
“Clever of you to figure it out.”
“My house has a view of the rear of your house, across the garden,” he said, “so don’t bother lowering your blinds.” He told her the number.
“What a coincidence,” she said.
“Do I detect a note of disbelief?”
“Just a tiny one.”
“Let’s see, your predecessor in the house worked for a bank, and she was murdered.”
She turned and looked at him.
“There’s that disbelief again,” he said.
“You read the papers, don’t you?”
“I do, but as it happens, I was a witness to her murder.”
“You were in the house?”
“No, a friend of mine and I were having a drink and waiting for her to start vacuuming her place, when a man walked up behind her and stabbed her with a knife.”
“Wait a minute. You said you were waiting for her to start vacuuming?”
“She did that every day at about the same time, and she preferred doing it naked. She was very beautiful, so we sometimes watched. She seemed to enjoy that.”
“What did you do after the part about the man with the knife?”
“My friend called it in, and we ran over there as fast as we could. But when we arrived, the killer had fled. There was nothing we could do for her. Except catch her killer, which we eventually did.”
“Well, Stone,” she said, “you certainly have a vivid imagination.”
“Which part of my recitation of the facts do you attribute to my imagination?”
“You said you ‘called it in.’ How?”
“Well, we didn’t want to get put on hold, so my friend, Dino, called the police directly.”
“Does he have some sort of personal influence with the NYPD?”
“You might say that. He’s the police commissioner of New York City.”
“Did you imagine that, too?”
“Tell you what. When you get home, turn on your computer and google the NYPD, and see if the commissioner’s name isn’t Dino Bacchetti.”
“What will happen if I google you?”
“I’ve no idea. I’ve never googled myself.”
“That shows a refreshing lack of self-involvement.”
“You’ve seen my badge,” Stone said. “Here’s my business card. Anything else I can do for you?”
“Not on this occasion,” she said, handing him her own card. “But we can discuss that another time, if you’d like to call me.”
“What are your office hours?”
“Nine to five, unless there’s a major flap on.”
Stone tucked away the card. “All right, but you must promise, after you’ve researched me as thoroughly as you like, to always believe everything I say. Nobody likes to be called a liar.”
“We’ll see,” she said. The cab came to a halt at her house.
“In that case, I won’t call you,” Stone said. “You can call me, if you like. Good evening.”
“Would you like to take the shortcut from my back door across the gardens?”
“Thank you, yes.” He got out of the cab and followed her to her door, where she stood aside and pointed.
“That way,” she said.
“Thank you. And again, good evening.” He departed through the back door, walked across the gardens, and let himself into his kitchen. Before he closed the door, he gave her a little wave, and she waved back.