“You shot Hildy Parsons?” Eggers said with outrage in his voice.
“Certainly not,” Stone said. “There were bullets flying everywhere, and if you’d like to check the bullet that struck her against my gun, you’re welcome to.”
“Were you carrying a.22?”
“Of course not. You’re not going to stop anybody with a.22. I was carrying a 9mm.”
“Hildy Parsons was shot with a.22. Cops don’t carry.22s.”
“My point exactly,” Stone replied.
“Then who shot her?”
“Maybe some hunter in the woods. It’s a rural area, you know; lots of hunters up there.”
“What would a hunter shoot with a.22?”
“Squirrels? Rabbits? Probably some kid.”
“Philip Parsons is livid.”
“Hildy Parsons is alive.”
“But wounded.”
“If she hadn’t been wounded she might have made it to that jet, and Philip Parsons wouldn’t have a daughter anymore. You might explain to Parsons that Sharpe and Larsen were carrying a couple of million in drugs and that much more in cash, and if they had made it, his daughter would have been a fugitive from justice, and he would be spending millions fighting her extradition. As it is, she was just an innocent bystander. I’ve seen to that.”
Eggers thought that over. “Did you hear that, Philip?”
“Yes, Bill, I did.”
“I didn’t know I was on a conference call, Philip,” Stone said, “or I would have been more politic in my statements. Maybe.”
“I’m glad you were blunt, Stone,” Parsons said.
“How is Hildy?”
“They’re keeping her in the hospital tonight for observation. She’ll be home tomorrow.”
“Have the police questioned her yet?”
“No, it was smart of you to have her taken to New York Hospital.”
“It might be a good idea if I have a conversation with her before she goes home,” Stone said.
“Now would be a good time,” Larkin said. “I’m with her.”
“I’ll be right there,” Stone said.
STONE TOOK a cab to the hospital and found the room. There were two bored-looking detectives sitting in the waiting room.
“Come in, Stone,” Philip Larkin said.
Hildy was propped up in bed in a large, sunny room overlooking the East River, and there were flowers everywhere.
“I don’t want to speak to him,” she said to her father, pointing at Stone.
“Shut up, Hildy,” Philip replied.
Stone stood by the bed. “You don’t have to talk to me,” he said. “In fact, it’s better if you don’t. You just have to listen.” He dragged up a chair and sat down. “You’re up to your neck in this, Hildy, and the only way you can get out of it is if you do exactly as I say. There are two police detectives waiting outside to see you…”
“I’m not going to talk to the police.”
“Shut up, Hildy,” her father said, “and listen.”
Stone continued. “You’re going to tell them that you’ve been seeing Derek Sharpe socially and that you hardly know Sig Larsen. You’re going to tell them that you have no idea what happened earlier today, that you had been invited to go to the Bahamas for a few days, and then people started shooting.”
“That is exactly what I thought,” Hildy said.
“Good, then you won’t have to remember a story. You believed Derek Sharpe to be an artist and nothing more. You had no idea that he might be involved in any sort of illegal activity, and you are shocked at the allegations. Got that?”
Hildy folded her arms and looked down at her knees. “Yes,” she said softly.
“As soon as the police have finished questioning you, you are going on a vacation, somewhere out of the country. You will not return for Sharpe’s trial, and you will not speak of him to any person in this country or abroad. You will carry a cell phone, so that the authorities will be able to reach you if necessary. If you have told them what I asked you to they will not call you as a witness, since you have no knowledge of Sharpe’s extralegal activities. Is all that perfectly clear?”
“Yes,” she said. “But, Daddy, I don’t want to go on a vacation.”
“You will go to the house in Tuscany as soon as your doctor says you’re well enough to travel,” Philip Parsons said. “Once there, you may invite friends to join you. You will not come back until Derek Sharpe has been tried and convicted, no matter how long that takes.”
“Well,” she said sheepishly, “ Italy is very nice this time of year.”
WHEN STONE RETURNED home there was a hand-delivered envelope on his desk. He ripped it open and found a single ticket to the opening night of Carrie’s show. There was no note.
60
STONE MET DINO at Elaine’s at eight thirty. “You’re off the hook for shooting Hildy,” he said.
“What do you mean, ‘off the hook’?” Dino said. “I was never on the hook.”
“You’re just lucky no one searched you and found the.22.”
“There was no luck involved. The Connecticut State Police were not going to search an NYPD lieutenant.”
“That’s why you’re off the hook. I spoke with her father this afternoon, and he’s good with it, too. I think he suspects something, but he got his daughter back, so he’s not going to make a fuss.”
“Is Hildy going to get nailed for her part in this thing?” Dino asked.
“No. I sat in on her questioning this afternoon. She played dumb and innocent, too.”
“But she had to know something about what Sharpe was doing.”
“Maybe, but she doesn’t now, so she’s not going to have to testify against him.” Stone picked up a menu. “You ready to order?”
“I’m expecting a guest,” Dino said. “Let’s wait.”
The waiter brought them both another drink, and Dino kept checking his wristwatch.
Finally, the door opened, and the commissioner entered, preceded by Mitzi, who looked smashing in a red dress.
Stone stood up, shook her hand, then the commissioner’s. “Good evening, sir,” he said. “I didn’t know you frequented Elaine’s.”
“I have been coming here since Giuliani was mayor,” the commissioner replied, looking around. He turned to the waiter. “You got any single malts?”
The waiter recited the list, and the commissioner chose one. “The lady will have a Beefeater’s martini with a twist, not too dry,” he said.
Stone shot a glance at Mitzi, but she was not looking at him. However, she delivered a sharp kick to his ankle under the table.
The drinks came, and the commissioner raised his glass. “To successful operations,” he said, “and to those who carry them out, even when unexpected circumstances occur.”
They all drank, and then they ordered dinner.
“Aren’t we missing the, ah, leader of the operation?” Stone asked.
“Oh, Lieutenant Doyle is home studying, I expect,” the commissioner said.
“Studying?” Stone asked, puzzled.
“He has been promoted to inspector, and tomorrow he starts his new job as lecturer on tactics at the police academy, his reward for a job well done.”
Stone nearly choked on his Knob Creek.
“That said, I think we should raise our glasses to Mitzi,” the commissioner said. “This afternoon she was promoted to lieutenant, and tomorrow she will command the detective squad at the First Precinct.”
Stone’s mouth dropped open, and Mitzi reached over, placed a finger under his chin, and closed it. “Congratulations,” he managed to say.
Dino spoke up. “I heard there were some transfers from that squad,” he said, “to new assignments in Brooklyn.”
“Yes,” the commissioner replied, “all promotions. Mitzi will pick her own people.”
“All of them women,” Mitzi said.
The commissioner looked at her. “All of them women?”
She regarded him evenly. “Yes, sir.”
Dinner was served. When they were done, the commissioner stood up, followed by Mitzi. “We have to be going,” he said. “ Barrington, give me your badge,” he said.