“If you feel that, then I will redouble my efforts.”
30
SHE LOOKED YOUNGER, somehow, than when Stone had last seen her, when she was being hustled into a private ambulance, wearing a straitjacket, frothing at the mouth. She now seemed untroubled, at peace, and not in the least dangerous.
Stone got to his feet. “Hello, Dolce,” he said, offering his hand. “It’s good to see you.”
Dolce took his hand then offered a cheek. “And you, Stone,” she said.
Stone moved to kiss the cheek, but she turned her head to place his lips at the corner of her mouth and flicked her tongue snakelike at his. He gave her the chair next to her father, then sat down with her between them. “You’re looking very beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you, Stone. You were always so gracious.”
Why then, he asked himself, did you want so badly to kill me? “Thank you,” he said aloud.
“Dolce has taken up painting,” Eduardo said, “and she is exhibiting a hitherto unseen talent.”
“Oh, I painted as a little girl, Daddy,” Dolce replied. “You just don’t remember. In those days you were preoccupied with business.”
“I suppose I was,” Eduardo said. “I was at that time withdrawing from certain activities and moving into others that seemed more… inviting.”
“You mean more legitimate, don’t you?” she asked, giving him a smile.
“If you wish, my dear.” Eduardo turned toward Stone. “At that time certain federal agencies were taking too much of an interest in my associates. I had managed never to be in a situation where my conversations might be recorded or my face photographed, but I believed that it would be impossible to continue that way for long. As it turned out my beliefs were confirmed more quickly than I had imagined, but by that time, I had receded into privacy, and my communications with my former associates had become less frequent and more indirect.”
“You have always struck me as the most prudent of men,” Stone said.
Eduardo shrugged. “I came to the view, earlier than my partners in… such activities, that those activities, as the saying goes, did not pay, at least not for long nor in proportion to the risks required. I judged that it was better to be involved in enterprises where good behavior was enforced by law rather than by vengeance.”
Stone smiled. “I have had a number of clients who came late to that realization, to their regret.”
“Every one of my associates from those days ended up dead by extraordinary means, deported to birthplaces they did not long for, or permanent guests of the federal government.”
“Daddy, on the other hand,” Dolce said, “ended up lord of all he surveyed and much more.”
“My daughter is too impressed with her father,” Eduardo said, shooting her a glance.
“Did you know he was offered the Presidential Medal of Freedom but declined?”
“I have never wished to be famous,” Eduardo said, “even for a brief moment at the White House.”
“Oh, Daddy, you’re too modest,” Dolce said. “You’ve been to the White House many times to visit half a dozen presidents.”
“But never with television cameras present,” Eduardo pointed out.
“Daddy won’t even allow his photograph in the annual reports of the companies and charitable institutions on whose boards he sits,” she said.
“I admit it, my dear, I am shy,” Eduardo replied. “Now let’s turn the conversation back to you.” He dusted imaginary crumbs from his suit, a rare gesture of irritation.
Dolce looked over her shoulder, and Stone followed her gaze. A large man in a dark suit stood on the back terrace. He looked at his watch. “Oh,” she said, “I’m afraid Alfonzo is becoming impatient. We’re going shopping.”
Stone was startled to think of Dolce roaming Madison Avenue, a free woman, but perhaps Alfonzo could manage her.
“Dolce needs new clothes,” Eduardo explained, “now that she is going out more often.”
Dolce stood. “Perhaps Stone would like to tag along with me sometime.”
Stone stood, too. “I’m afraid I’m rather occupied with someone who wouldn’t understand.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him good-bye. This time her tongue momentarily found Stone’s ear.
“Good-bye, dear Stone.”
“Good-bye, Dolce,” Stone managed to say. He watched her walk away, an inviting performance.
“Sit for a moment more,” Eduardo said, “until she has made her escape.”
Stone sat down, hoping Eduardo did not mean that literally. “She really is looking very well,” he said.
“I think her mental state, particularly her anger, made her seem older,” Eduardo said. “Now that she has been relieved of those tensions, it shows in her demeanor.”
“I suppose so,” Stone said. “How long has she been going out?”
“Only for the past ten days or so,” Eduardo replied. “I am being very careful with her, following the advice of her psychiatrist, who is a sensible woman.”
“I wish I could have helped her,” Stone said.
“No one could have helped her in those days, Stone,” Eduardo said. “And I would not wish you to feel that you must try again.”
“Thank you, Eduardo,” Stone said. “I must go now, but it has been a very great pleasure to see you, and I’m glad that Dolce is making such a good recovery.” He stood and took Eduardo’s hand again.
“I think seeing you was good for her,” Eduardo said, “and I’m glad we had an opportunity to talk about Sharpe and Larsen.”
“So am I. I will take your advice to heart.” Stone walked back to the terrace and through the house. The butler was there to open the front door for him. He got into his car and began the drive back to Manhattan.
He had calls to make now, after Eduardo’s warning about Sharpe. Previously, he had been concerned only about Hildy Parsons with regard to her fortune. Now, it seemed, she was in more immediate danger. So, indeed, was Mitzi Reynolds, above and beyond the call of her duty. Sharpe needed to be shut down quickly and Larsen with him, and not by just a loss of reputation.
Beyond those thoughts, a knot had been forming in Stone’s stomach, and he searched for the reason. Then he remembered: Dolce, when told he was seeing someone, had said, “I know.”
Stone’s heart thudded in his chest, and his hands made the steering wheel slippery.
31
STONE PUT THE CAR in the garage and went quickly to his office. Several message slips were on his desk, among them one from Brian Doyle at the downtown precinct. He called the number.
“Lieutenant Doyle.”
“Brian, it’s Stone Barrington.”
“Hello, Stone.”
“I’m returning your call.”
“I had a meeting with Mitzi earlier this afternoon, and she told me how well things are going. She said you have been a big help. ‘Invaluable,’ was how she put it.”
“I’m glad to have helped.”
“We’re getting to the point where we can set up a purchase and a bust,” Brian said.
“Brian…”
“We don’t think it will have to be too big to get a conviction: A pound of grass and half a kilo of coke should do it-plenty to charge him with distributing.”
“Brian, listen to me.”
“Okay, pal, I’m listening. What’s up?”
“I have some new information that you’re going to have to take into consideration before you decide whether to continue.”
“What sort of information?”
“I have it from a very reliable source that Sharpe has stepped on the toes of some pros who take a very proprietary view of their business operations.”
“And which pros are these?”
“I don’t know, but they are pissed off at having what they consider to be an amateur dipping into their exclusive territories, and they are planning to do something about it.”