“What I don’t understand is why they beat you up so bad.”
“I told them I fucked their sister.”
“Oh, you wanted them to kick the shit out of you.”
“You ought to see the other guy. He should have a door sticking out of his forehead; I kicked it in on him.”
“Great, that’ll really help nail them for battery, you kicking in the door of their room.”
The door opened and Arrington walked in, carrying two large suitcases. She dropped them and rushed over to the bed. “Is he dead?” she asked Dino.
“Not yet.”
“I’m just fine,” Stone said.
“Oh, sure.”
“It was just some bruising and a couple of cuts.” He tried to sit up, but winced with pain. “And a couple of ribs. What are the bags for? Are you going somewhere?”
“I’m moving in with you,” Arrington said.
“I thought you already had, pretty much.”
“The difference between ‘pretty much’ and moving in is two suitcases.”
“Oh.”
“If it were Mary Ann,” Dino said, “it would be two moving vans. That’s what it’s going to take to cart our stuff up to Sixty-sixth Street.”
“The doctor says you’re going to need two or three days in the hospital,” Arrington said.
“Fat chance.”
“You’re not going to get out of here talking like that. They said they’d let me take you home tomorrow, if I promised to keep you in bed.”
“Promise them anything.”
“Well,” said Dino, “I think my work here is done.”
“Thanks, Dino,” Stone said. “You’d better find those guys before I do.”
Dino threw up his hands. “I didn’t hear that,” he said, walking out of the room.
Arrington pulled a chair up to the bed. “What am I going to do with you?” she said.
“Take me home at the earliest possible moment, that’s what.”
“I’m so sorry I got you involved with Jonathan.”
“His name is Tommy Bruce, and you didn’t get me involved; Amanda Dart did.”
“And I’m very sorry, too,” Amanda said from the door.
“Not your fault, Amanda,” Stone said. “Take a pew. How did you know I was here?”
“I have a source in the emergency room,” she replied. “Arrington, I know this is a terrible imposition, but may I speak to Stone alone for just a moment?”
“Sure, I need some coffee, anyway,” Arrington replied, then left.
Amanda settled herself in the bedside chair. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Only superficially. I plan to get back on the horse tomorrow.”
“Stone, I asked you to drop this investigation.”
“Don’t worry, Amanda, it’s not costing you a dime.”
“I resent that.”
“Sorry, I guess I’m a little irritable today.”
“Dick Hickock and I don’t want anything else done on this, do you understand?”
“Quite frankly, no; would you explain that to me? A couple of weeks ago you were both nuts to find these guys.”
“We got over it.”
“Amanda, don’t you think it’s a little out of character for you to get over something like this?”
“I know when to cut my losses.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“You’re going to keep looking for these people, then?”
“As soon as I can walk upright and make a fist. In the meantime, the police are looking for them.”
Amanda made a small noise.
“What?”
“Is there anything I can get you?” she asked.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“I hope you won’t continue this,” she said, standing.
“You can always hope.”
“Believe me, it’s not in your interests to do so.”
“Amanda, do you know what these guys want?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Does Hickock?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“They’re looking to make some big money; are you buying them off?”
“No.”
“Is Hickock?”
“He’s said nothing to me about it. Look, Stone, Dick has dropped the girlfriend, and he and his wife have managed to patch things up. Don’t go pulling the scabs off their wounds.”
“I’ll be as discreet as I possibly can,” Stone said.
“Thanks for that, anyway.”
“Thanks for coming to see me.”
“Good-bye, Stone.”
From her car, Amanda called Dick Hickock. “He’s not going to give it up,” she said.
“That’s his misfortune,” Hickock replied, then hung up.
Chapter 54
Tommy and Charlie Bruce spent the afternoon and evening in the movies, seeing four features in three theaters, their luggage on the seats beside them, not venturing onto the streets until after dark. They ate a late dinner at the back of a Chinese restaurant, lingering until long after midnight, then found a cab and got out a block from their destination.
“How are we going to get in?” Charlie asked as they walked quickly down the street.
“I’ve got a key to the apartment, but it’s a doorman building, and we have to get in the back way. Stop a minute.”
They put down their bags and looked up and down the block. It was after one o’clock, and there was no traffic.
“Down here,” Tommy said, trotting down a flight of dark stairs to a door. He switched on a penlight, clenched it between his teeth, and from his wallet took a set of lock picks. In less than thirty seconds they were inside. “We can’t use the elevator,” he said. “The doorman will know if we do. We’ll have to walk up.”
“How many floors?”
“Nine.”
“Shit.”
“Shut up, and let’s get moving.” They stopped twice to rest and finally stepped into the ninth-floor hallway. They tiptoed to the door, and Tommy let them in and switched on a light.
“Not bad,” Charlie said.
“There’s only one bed; one of us will have to sleep on the sofa.”
“Toss you for it.”
“Fuck you. And keep the noise down; we don’t want to attract attention from the neighbors.” They busied themselves with getting settled, and Tommy plugged in his laptop computer, connecting it to the laser printer already on a desk in the apartment.
“I’m whipped,” Charlie said, flopping down on the sofa.
“Let’s get some sleep, then. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”
The following morning Stone walked stiffly out of the hospital and rode home in a cab with Arrington.
“You need some help with the steps?” she asked.
“I’ll manage,” he said. but the climbing made his ribs hurt. While Arrington went to consult Helene about lunch, he took the elevator upstairs and went to the safe in his dressing room. He took out a German.765 caliber automatic pistol, a small but damaging weapon, then he dressed in pajamas and a robe and put the pistol into a robe pocket. Finally, and with some difficulty, he knelt next to his bed, retrieved the shotgun from its hiding place under the bed. and set it where he could easily reach it. Only then did he prop himself up in bed. When he next met the Messrs. Bruce, he intended to be ready.
Enrico Bianchi got out of his car on a narrow street in Little Italy and walked into the La Boheme Coffee House. He nodded to several people at tables, then went straight through to a rear room, where a nattily dressed young man awaited him.
“Good morning, padrone,” the young man said.
Bianchi tapped his ear with a finger and made a circular motion in the air.
“It was swept ten minutes ago,” the young man said. “We’re all right.”
“What happened yesterday?” Bianchi asked, taking a chair.
“A waiter who runs numbers spotted them on West Forty-fourth Street. He got excited and took their photograph, and they ran. He tried to follow them, but they were gone. We checked the block and found out they had checked in at the Mansfield Hotel less than half an hour before. They returned there, got their bags, and left in a hurry.”
“And now?”
“They’ve gone to ground. As soon as they hit the streets, we’ll have them.”