“It’s my new underwear,” Stone replied, poking himself in the ribs.
“Do I need a change of underwear?”
“I don’t think a bullet could penetrate that tweed jacket you’re wearing,” Stone replied.
“I’m celebrating my Scottish heritage,” she said. “Sometimes I find a twig or two woven into it.”
“What next, a bird’s nest?”
“That would be okay. I could use the eggs.” Her phone rang, and Joan answered it. “Caroline on one.”
Stone went back to his office and punched the button. “Hello,” he said.
“Nice roses,” she replied. “Thank God you didn’t include a card. I’m getting all sorts of stick about them around the office.”
“Don’t they know what you do in your spare time?”
“God, I hope not, I’d never hear the end of it. You available for pizza or Chinese this evening?”
“Chinese, yes, pizza, no. I’ve been warned by an Italian that Italians talk among themselves.”
“You know a place called Evergreen?”
“I’ve got their menu in my desk drawer.”
“Order a lot for me, then attend to your own needs.”
“That’s your job,” he said. “What time will you show?”
“Seven?”
“That’s good. Come in through the office door, that’s how the Chinese will arrive. I’ll buzz you in.”
“Will do. See ya.”
Stone called the restaurant, ordered a dozen dishes, and asked for a seven o’clock delivery, downstairs.
Joan came back in. “I’m done, unless there are goons to shoot.”
“Seems quiet. Have a nice evening.”
“You’re staying on?”
“I’m expecting Chinese in half an hour.”
“Enjoy!” She left for her apartment next door.
—
At seven sharp the office doorbell rang. Stone went and relieved the deliveryman of three shopping bags of food and paid him in cash. He closed the door and was picking up the bags when a man appeared at the door. He was large and rough-looking, and he began to look over the door and the lock, not realizing that Stone was on the other side of what amounted to a one-way mirror. He took something from his pocket and began to fool with the lock.
Stone set the bags aside, went into Joan’s office and retrieved her .45, then he went back to the door and jerked it open, the pistol ready. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, holding the gun shoulder high.
The man froze, then looked worried. “Sorry,” he said, “wrong house.”
“This is a dentist’s office,” Stone said. “Never mind the sign. If you come back you’ll leave minus some teeth.” The man hurried away just as a cab pulled up outside, and Caroline got out, carrying a large purse and a small suitcase.
“Hey,” she said, kissing him. “Was that who you’ve been expecting? I mean, there’s a .45 in your hand.”
“I believe it was,” Stone said. “He was trying to pick the lock.”
“That’s pretty brazen.”
“Yeah, I guess he thought there would be no one in the office this late, and he could get into the house this way. He was nearly right.” Stone picked up the food bags. “Let’s get to the kitchen. We’ve got two hundred dollars’ worth of Chinese food here, getting cold.”
He locked the door behind her and set the alarm, then led her through his office to the kitchen.
“This house just goes on and on, doesn’t it?”
“Sort of. I own the one next door, too. My people live there.”
“How many people?”
“Fred and Helene, my cook/housekeeper, and Joan Robertson, my secretary.”
“How convenient.”
“For everybody.” He set the food on the kitchen table. “I’ll get plates and some wine. You root around in that and see if there’s anything you like.” He set the table and put out half a dozen serving spoons, then got a bottle of good Chardonnay from the wine fridge and opened it.
“What would you like?”
“A couple of dumplings, lots of fried rice, General Tso’s Chicken, and the Grand Marnier Shrimp, for a start.”
She served them both and they ate greedily.
“I figured out why you have so many Matilda Stone paintings,” she said. “She was your mother.”
Stone’s mouth was full, so he just nodded.
“I looked her up on Wikipedia, and it said she had one son.”
Stone swallowed and washed it down with the wine. “You are correct,” he said.
“What was she like?”
“Just wonderful. She worked like a beaver all day and was transformed into a mother at quitting time.”
“I’m a little like that. I work like a beaver all day, then I turn into a sex maniac at quitting time.”
“Then I’d better stop eating, or I won’t be able to get my clothes off.”
“I’ll help,” she said.
The following morning, after their usual early-morning carnal cavort, Caroline took her shower and dressed in the change of clothes she had brought in her bag.
“I had a thought,” Stone said.
“Speak it, then, I don’t want to be late.”
“Why don’t we get out of town for the weekend? I’ve got a country place. We can breathe free up there.”
“What a good idea!”
“Can you shake loose from work after lunch?”
“I can go home, pack a bag, and be here by, say, noon?”
“Good. See you then.”
—
Jerry Brubeck got to his office by eight AM, as usual. He had not slept well, and he knew he was going to have to confront Gino, which always made him nervous. He made coffee and put the cheese Danishes he had bought on the way into the city on a plate, then poured himself a cup. At eight-thirty, right on schedule, Gino bustled into the office.
“Grab some coffee and Danish, Gino,” Jerry said. “We have to talk.”
“Oh, shit, not again.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that, but this is an entirely new talk.”
Gino hung up his jacket, poured himself coffee, took the Danish, and sat down at the table, opposite Jerry. “All right, take your best shot.”
“Part of this you’ve heard before,” Jerry said, “but you’re going to have to hear it again.”
“I’m listening.”
“We’ve got a good business here, but you’re screwing it up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You and I are in two different businesses. I’m running a modern, state-of-the-art beverage distribution business, and you’re running a mob family that isn’t really there anymore. You’re behaving like your father and his father before him, and you’re raising your son to do the same.”
“I like tradition,” Gino said, taking in a mouthful of Danish.
Jerry spoke hurriedly, to get his thought in while Gino was chewing. “We lost our advertising agency yesterday, because you’ve behaved like a jerk at every meeting we’ve ever had with them.”
Gino swallowed hard. “Fuck ’em,” he said. “We’ll get another agency.”
“They are the best agency in town, and now they’re representing our new competitor from Texas instead of us.”
“So what? That Texas guy is never going to make it. I’ll screw him up so bad he won’t know what hit him.”
“See, Gino, that’s what I’m talking about, that’s no way to run a business. Nowadays you compete by offering your clients good service and prices and by running a good advertising and marketing program. Gone are the days when you beat up the competition or shoot them, but that’s what you still want to do.”
“Listen, Jerry, you count the beans, and I’ll take care of the competition.”