“I got it, Louise. You’re a great sister.”
“Better than you deserve,” she said, then she hung up.
“I’m hungry,” Charlie said. “We didn’t get any lunch.”
“There’s an Italian place down the block,” Tommy replied. “I saw it from the cab. Come on.”
Gaetano Calabrese checked his tie in the mirror, then turned to his boss. “Take a picture of me, okay?” He fished the Instamatic out of his locker and handed it to his headwaiter, who laughed and took his picture.
Gaetano had been in the country for seven months, and he had worked every day of it as a busboy. This was his first day as a waiter, and he was enjoying the tips. He worked days, and in the evenings, he ran numbers for a guy in his neighborhood. Gaetano fished a photograph out of his wallet and looked at it again; his boss had given it to him the night before. Five hundred bucks, that was what it was worth; he memorized the face and put it back in his wallet.
“Let’s go, Gaetano,” his boss said. “Break’s over; customers in the restaurant.”
Gaetano strode into the dining room, a smile on his face.
Tommy and Charlie Bruce walked into Figaro and asked for a table. It was late for lunch, and there were plenty. A waiter brought them a menu.
“Did you see that?” Charlie asked.
“What?”
“That waiter.”
“What about him?”
“The way he looked at me. At you, too.”
“Charlie, don’t get paranoid on me.”
“Tommy, a guy just busted into our hotel room that nobody was supposed to know about, looking for two guys whose names he didn’t know, but he knew about the hotel, and he knew our names. Now you’re telling me I’m paranoid?”
“Okay, now we’re in another hotel under new names, and we’ve got ID to back them up, right?”
“Right.”
“So how could anybody know about us?”
“I still think he looked at us funny.”
“Shut up and order.” The waiter was coming back.
“Gentlemen,” he said in a heavy accent, “what is your pleasure?”
“I’ll have the spaghetti bolognese, Tommy said.
“Pizza margharita,” Charlie said.
“And a bottle of the chianti classico.”
“Of course, sirs, and welcome to our restaurant.”
“Thanks,” Tommy said as the man walked away. “He’s new on the job; he’s just trying too hard, that’s all.”
“Maybe.”
The waiter was back in a moment, and he was holding a camera. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, “but I have a new camera, and I wonder if I could take your pictures, you are both so very handsome.”
Tommy started to speak, and then the flashbulb went off in his face. When he could see again, the waiter was gone.
“Jesus,” Charlie said. “What the hell is going on?”
“I’ll admit, this is very screwy,” Tommy mumbled. “I think we ought to get out of here.”
Gaetano was on the phone to his night boss. “I got them,” he said.
“What are you talking about, Gaetano?” the boss asked. “You’re not on until tonight.”
“The two men you want for five hundred dollars. I got them.”
“Where?”
“At Figaro, where I work, on West Forty-fourth Street.”
“Keep an eye on those guys, Gaetano. Somebody’ll be there very quickly.”
“Don’t worry, I took their photograph, too.”
“You what?”
“I took their picture with my camera.”
“Did they see you do it?”
“Of course. My camera has a flash.”
“Holy shit, are they still there?”
“Hold on, please, I’ll see.” Gaetano let the receiver fall, then stepped into the dining room again. The two men had vanished. He ran back to the phone. “They are gone!” he screamed.
“No fucking kidding!” his boss yelled. “Go after them; don’t let them out of your sight! We’re on the way!”
Gaetano hung up the phone and sprinted for the street. He ran out the door, nearly knocking down two customers, and looked left and right. Nothing, nothing but traffic. He ran to the corner of 6th Avenue and looked up and down. Still nothing. He ran back to 5th Avenue. Still nothing. His heart sank. Not only was he not going to get the five hundred dollars, he was, as his boss liked to say, going to get his ass kicked.
Tommy and Charlie Bruce burst out of the Mansfield Hotel less than a minute after the waiter had disappeared back into his restaurant and dove into a cab.
“What now?” Charlie asked.
“We’ve got to find a hole long enough to get the computer out of storage and get off one more issue of DIRT. That’s all it’s going to take; the groundwork has been done.”
“But where? I don’t want anybody else taking pictures of us.”
“I know just the place,” Tommy said. “It belongs to a friend who’s not using it at the moment.” He gave the driver an address, then sat back in the seat. “Just one more issue,” he said, “delivered to just one customer.”
Chapter 53
Stone looked up at the resident, who was stitching the cut above his eye. “Where’s the cop who was with me when I came in?” he asked.
“He’s out in the hall.”
“Could somebody ask him to come in, please?”
“You just lie quietly, and let me do my work; you can talk to him later.”
“It’s very important.”
“Shut up.”
“Are you going to call the cop in here, or am I going to have to do it myself?”
“Oh, all right. Nurse, will you get the cop in here, please?”
“Thank you.”
“Will you please shut up? We’re getting tired of seeing you in here, you know. What was it last time, a concussion?”
“Careful how you talk to me; I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
The cop walked in. “Somebody ask for me?”
“I did,” Stone said. “Will you call Lieutenant Bacchetti at the Nineteenth and tell him I’m here, please?”
“Sure thing.” The cop left.
“See how easy that was?” Stone said to the resident.
“Are you a cop, Mr. Barrington?”
“Used to be.”
“You look too young to be retired.”
“That’s what I told them, but they retired me anyway.”
“There,” the resident said. “What with your scalp wound and this one, you have seventeen stitches in your head.”
“A record,” he replied.
“I sincerely hope so.” She turned to the nurse. “Dress these two wounds, and let’s get him admitted.”
“I don’t want to be admitted,” Stone said.
The resident paused at the door. “Put restraints on him if he gives you a hard time.”
Dino walked into the hospital room. “Now what?” he demanded.
Stone had the bed cranked to a sitting position. “I want to make a complaint,” he said.
“A complaint? You look very happy to me.”
“I want to file aggravated battery charges against Thomas and Charles Bruce.”
“It’s already been done. When the cop called me I got it in the computer and onto the street.”
“So now you can arrest them.”
“Their photographs are being printed up as we speak; the next shift will be carrying them.”
“Check hotels,” Stone said. “I don’t think they’re going apartment hunting now.”
“Right.” Dino said. “You really look like shit, you know?”
“Thanks.”
“By tomorrow morning you’re going to look like you fought for the championship and lost.”
Stone shifted the ice pack on his face. “They’re looking to make some kind of a big score, Dino, but I don’t know what.”
“Another burglary?”
“Doesn’t sound like that; they’re talking big money. That’s what Tommy told his sister, anyway.”