“Right.”
“You weren’t with her last night; you were with Mitzi.”
“Right again. I had to go to the hospital very early this morning, because Carrie’s ex took a shot at her.”
“She’s dead?”
Stone shook his head. “Barely wounded. She’ll make opening night.”
“Somebody ought to lock that guy up.”
“Dino’s working on it.”
At the mention of his name, Dino walked through the front door and headed for his table. A waiter saw him and ordered his usual Scotch. He sat down at the table, and Elaine pinched his cheek.
“Aw, come on, Elaine,” Dino said. “Everybody’s watching.”
“You two enjoy,” Elaine said and moved to another table.
“Yeah, I know,” Dino said to Stone. “I’m late.”
“What happened in Atlanta?” Stone asked.
“You mind if I get a drink first?” A drink appeared before him, and he took a tug at it.
“So?”
“Don’t rush me.”
“Me rush you?”
“All the time.”
Stone sighed, sat back, sipped his bourbon, and waited for Dino to speak.
Dino took another tug at his Scotch. “Okay,” he said, “two Atlanta PD detectives met your man at the airport. He denied being in New York and showed them a flight plan from Charleston.”
“Anybody can run off a flight plan on a computer,” Stone said. “That doesn’t mean he flew it.”
“They called the FAA, but there was some screwup. Apparently, he did fly from Charleston, but they weren’t able to figure out when he got there.”
“And I’ll bet he has a Charleston alibi.”
“You got it,” Dino said. “And since we don’t have any evidence against the guy-no ID, no bullet-he can’t be touched.”
“So that’s why you were late?”
“No. I was at a meeting with Brian Doyle and the commissioner.”
“Subject?”
“Your pending bust.”
“It’s not my pending bust. It’s Brian’s; he owns it.”
“Yeah, I know, and that’s what worries me. I hear you got Tiffany to give you a chopper.”
“Shit! Was that mentioned at the meeting?”
“No, but I have other sources.”
“I think we need it.”
“I think you’re right,” Dino replied. “If there’s a way to fuck this up, Brian will find it. He’s a walking, framed copy of Murphy’s Law.”
“How did he ever make lieutenant?” Stone asked.
“You mean, whose cock was he…?”
“Exactly.”
“I think he did whatever was necessary.”
“It doesn’t speak well of the NYPD that they would promote the guy.”
“Look, you and I could name a dozen guys who got promoted above their level of competence,” Dino said.
“Yeah, we could. I just wish we didn’t have one of them running this bust.”
“All right, tell me who you’re worried about,” Dino said.
“Mitzi,” Stone replied, “and Hildy Parsons.”
“Oh, that’s right. Hildy is why you’re in this.”
“Exactly. But I’ve come to feel a lot for Mitzi, and she could get hurt.”
“You want me to be around when it goes down?”
“Yes, please. I’d like you at Rita Gammage’s apartment when the buy is made, and we’ll take it from there.”
“When?”
“I don’t know yet; we’re waiting for a call from Derek Sharpe to tell us he has the goods. Mitzi will see that we have some notice, though.”
“Okay, I’m available.”
“Do me a favor?”
“What is it this time?”
“I need you to call the NYPD flight department and inquire about a helicopter pad somewhere in the vicinity of Park and Seventy-second Street.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“I think that’s all I need until the bust goes down,” Stone said. His cell phone vibrated on his belt, and he dug it out of its holster. “Hello?”
“It’s Mitzi.”
“Hello, there.”
“The buy is tomorrow morning, eleven a.m., at the apartment.”
“Gotcha. Dino and I will be there early.”
“Great.”
“Something I’d like to know about the apartment.”
“What?”
“The windows, the ones overlooking Park Avenue, do they open?”
“You mean, are they not sealed shut?”
“Exactly.”
“Hang on.”
Stone waited until she came back.
“Yes, they open,” she said.
“Thanks. See you tomorrow.” He hung up. “We’re on,” he said to Dino. “Eleven a.m. tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“You still have your old.22 target pistol?” Stone asked.
“Yeah, it’s in my safe.”
“Bring it.”
“Why?”
“Just bring it.”
Dinner arrived, and they dug in.
In spite of the bourbon and the good food, Stone was nervous again. He didn’t like being nervous; something bad usually happened when he was nervous.
56
STONE WOKE EARLY, shaved, showered, and got to Rita’s apartment at eight. Dino met him on the sidewalk.
“I didn’t get breakfast,” Dino said.
“Neither did I,” Stone replied, ushering him into the building, “but we will.” He gave the doorman their names and waited until they were allowed upstairs. Before they went to the elevator, Stone pulled the doorman to the front door and pointed. “See that parking space?”
“Yes, sir.”
Stone put a hundred-dollar bill in his hand. “Please make sure no one parks there but a Mr. Sharpe. He drives a black Mercedes, and he’ll be here around eleven. Tell him that Miss Mitzi reserved it for him.”
“I’ll put a couple of cones out and watch for him,” the doorman said.
Mitzi answered the door in a silk dressing gown, and it looked as though she was wearing nothing under it. The sight stirred Stone, but there wasn’t time.
“You want some breakfast?” she asked.
“You betcha,” Stone said.
She led Dino down the hall toward the kitchen, but Stone went to a front window and made sure it would open, then he went to the kitchen and sat down at the table with Mitzi, Rita, and Dino. Moments later they were eating omelets and croissants, Mitzi dunking hers.
They lingered at the table, chatting, until after ten, then the women went to dress. Stone walked to the big stainless-steel refrigerator, took two eggs from the door shelf, and slipped them into his jacket pocket. Then he went into the living room and began reading the Times.
Dino joined him and took the Business section.
“Since when did you start reading about business?” Stone asked, surprised.
“When I got my hands on some money.” Dino had received a generous settlement when he was divorced.
“So now you’re a capitalist?”
“You bet your ass.”
“You brought the.22 pistol?” Dino had won a department championship with that pistol.
“It’s on my belt,” Dino said, not bothering to show him. “Are you armed?”
“I am,” Stone said.
“Not that you could hit anything.”
“Why do you think I asked you to bring the target pistol?” Stone said. He didn’t argue with Dino’s opinion of his marksmanship.
At ten thirty Dino used his cell phone to check on the status of the bust, then he hung up.
“Everything set?” Stone asked.
“Yep.”
“Oh, what did you find out about a helicopter pad?”
“There’s a tennis club a couple of doors from the corner of Seventy-ninth that’s being renovated. They’re taking down the nets and posts on the rooftop courts. My car is parked a block from here; my driver will run us there.”
“How many courts on the roof?”
“Four, stacked.”
Stone called the number Tiffany had given him for the helicopter pilot.
“Hello.”
“This is Stone Barrington.”
“Right, Mr. Barrington. We’re all set.”
“How long a flight from your position to the corner of Seventy-second and Park?”
“Two minutes.”