“Only sometimes? You’re a lucky man; I could tell you about crazy.”
“You found an apartment yet?”
“Yeah, and they’ve accepted our offer.”
“How much?”
Dino lowered his voice. “You ready for this? Seven hundred thou and change.”
“Seven hundred thousand?”
“And change.”
“You have a very generous father-in-law.”
Dino shook his head. “He just wants her to shut up about it, like me. He’d pay twice that, if she’d shut up about it.”
“Where is the apartment?”
“East Sixty-sixth, between Fifth and Madison.”
“Uptown!”
“Yeah. We’ve still got to go before the co-op board.”
“Relax, they’ll be delighted to have a cop in the building. You might let drop that you can get the patrol frequency increased on the block.”
“Good idea. I can do that, too; I’ll have a foot patrolman by there every hour.”
“How are you going to dress?”
“In a suit, I guess.”
“Want me to loan you one?”
“What’s the matter with my suits?” Dino demanded indignantly.
“They’re probably a little too Italian for an East Side co-op board. A trip to Brooks Brothers or Ralph Lauren might be a good investment.”
“I’ll think about it. When this board hears us talk, they might bounce us.”
“Use your interrogation English.”
“Huh?”
“Talk to them the way you interrogate upscale witnesses.”
“Oh, that. That could work, if I don’t let Mary Ann talk at all.”
Stone laughed. “Come on, get me out of here.”
Dino dropped him in front of the house, and Stone climbed the front steps more slowly than he’d planned. Helene met him at the door, fussing, and in five minutes she had him tucked in bed.
“Don’t bring food,” Stone said. “There’s a lady coming whom you haven’t met yet, and she’ll want that privilege.”
Helene went back to her work, chuckling.
An hour later, Arrington showed up. He could hear her and Helene coming up the stairs together, laughing. When they came into the room, Arrington was carrying what looked like a large leather portfolio and a paper bag.
“I take it you two have met,” Stone said.
“Yes, we have,” Arrington said, handing the paper bag to Helene. “I stopped by the deli for soup; can you warm this up?”
Helene went to the kitchenette and came back in five minutes with a large steaming mug.
Arrington made him drink it. “Good for what ails you,” she said. When he had finished the soup, she opened the leather thing, which turned out to be a portable massage table. “A little gift,” she said.
“Thanks very much,” he replied. “How does it work?”
She took a sheet from the linen closet and spread it over the table. “Get out of that nightshirt, and hop up here; I’ll show you.” She retrieved a bottle of oil from her large purse.
Stone climbed onto the table and stretched out, his face in an opening provided for breathing.
Arrington started with his neck and shoulders. “You’ve got a very large bruise right here,” she said, poking the back of his neck. “Is that sore?”
“You bet it is; go easy there.”
She worked her way slowly down his back and buttocks, letting her hands stray now and then.
“You keep that up, and I’ll forget I’m sick,” Stone breathed.
“Oh, shut up.” She moved down to his legs and feet, then had him turn over.
“What was that angry phone call the other night about?” Stone asked. “The one on the machine.”
“Oh, I didn’t want to tell you until you were better.”
“Tell me what?”
“Somebody broke into my apartment earlier that evening.”
Stone sat up, but she pushed him back down. “What was taken?”
“Very little. I had a couple of hundred dollars in a dresser drawer; he passed up my jewelry, thank God.”
“That sounds strange.”
“Especially when you consider that my jewelry box was in plain sight on the dresser.”
“How’d he get into the building?”
“I don’t know; the doorman swears nobody got past him.”
“There’s that side entrance that you and I left by one night.”
“I guess that might be how, if he knew about it, and if he could get past the lock.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me about this break-in?” Stone asked.
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?”
“I think Jonathan did it.”
“Why?”
“He’s been calling, and I’ve refused to talk to him. There’ve been some messages on my machine.”
“I want to hear the tape.”
“I’m sorry; I was so annoyed that I erased them immediately.”
“Anything threatening?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, I didn’t like his tone; it was… well, sort of proprietary.” She moved down to his chest and belly.
“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
“Neither did I.”
“I think I should have a little talk with Jonathan.”
“I don’t want you two getting into fights over me.”
“I don’t get into fights.”
“Jonathan does.”
“Trust me; I can handle this one.”
“Whatever you say, sir.” She giggled and stroked his penis, which was erect. “Is this the way you say howdy?”
“Can you think of a better way?”
“No, sir, I can’t,” she said, rubbing oil on it.
“Is my massage over?” he whispered.
“Not by a long shot,” she whispered back.
“By the way, what’s Jonathan’s last name?”
“Dryer.”
That rang a bell somewhere with Stone, but at the moment, his mind was elsewhere.
Chapter 34
Amanda rode up Madison Avenue in the back of the Mercedes. “Paul,” she said, “we’re going to pick up a gentle man at Madison and Seventy-second, left-hand side, near the corner.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Paul replied.
“I’m going to want to go someplace nearby, park for a few minutes and have a private chat with him. Can you think of a good place?”
“There’s a place in the park,” Paul said.
“That will be fine; better get in the left-hand lane.” Amanda put the armrest down to separate her from her unwanted guest, pressed a switch that put up the sunscreen on the rear window, for privacy, and eyed the corner ahead. “That must be him,” she said. “The one in the raincoat.” She had no idea what Allan Peebles looked like, but this was the only lone man on the corner. The car rolled to a stop, and Amanda pressed the window button.
The man leaned over and looked into the car. “Amanda?”
“Get in,” she replied. The car turned left on 72nd and headed for Central Park.
“I’m Allan Peebles,” he said, extending his hand.
She shook it perfunctorily, then held a finger to her lips for silence.
Halfway through the park, Paul pulled off the road into a small lot for maintenance vehicles and stopped.
“Give us a few minutes, Paul,” Amanda said.
Paul got out of the car and walked twenty yards to a bench and sat down, still in view of the car.
“Now,” said Amanda, “what do we have to talk about?”
“I’ve always been an admirer of your column,” Peebles said.
“I wish I could say the same.” She glanced at her watch.
“All right, I’ll get to the point: Why do you suppose you and I have been targeted by this scandal sheet?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” she said. “After all, Richard Hickock has been targeted, too, and Stone Barrington has been mentioned more than once, as well as Vance Calder.”
“With the possible exception of Calder, who was probably an innocent bystander, everybody is connected.”
“Connected? How could I possibly be connected with you?”
“We’re both published by the same people, in a manner of speaking.”