They ordered.
“Is the cad who recently abandoned you of any importance in your life?” Stone asked.
“I had hopes for him, but they didn’t last long.”
“Has he ever behaved violently toward you?”
“No, but he has threatened to, when I used up too much of the conversational air between us.”
“Then he is living down to my expectations,” Stone said. They finished their dinner and declined dessert. “Matilda, would you like to come back to my house for a nightcap? Dino will offer police protection.”
“Dino, are you a policeman?”
“He is the uber policeman, the commissioner.”
“Goodness, I’ve never met a police commissioner.”
“I’m pleased to be your first,” Dino replied. “I should tell you that Stone only wants to show off his house. You’ll be safe enough.”
“I’ll show you my Matilda Stones,” Stone replied.
“In that case, I’d love a nightcap,” she beamed.
Stone filled the ride home with stories of being partners with Dino, in their youth.
“Did you and Stone protect each other?”
“Somebody had to keep him alive,” Dino explained.
Chapter 3
Stone was at his desk the following morning when his secretary, Joan, rapped on his door.
“Yes?”
“A walk-in, says Bill Eggers sent him.”
Bill Eggers was Stone’s managing partner at Woodman & Weld.
“Better send him in,” Stone said.
The young man who entered his office was all too familiar from the night before, when he had abandoned Matilda Martin at Clarke’s.
“My name is Trench Molder,” the man said, not offering a hand but taking a seat, unasked.
“I’m happy to know your name, Mr. Molder. How is it you know Bill Eggers?”
“I don’t,” Molder replied, “but I thought his name might get me in here.”
“And now that you have accomplished that goal, how can I help you?”
“Simple. Just stay away from Matilda Martin, and we will have no further business.”
“I’m afraid we already have no further business,” Stone said. “But I can tell you that neither do you and Ms. Martin have any further business.”
“That’s presumptuous of you,” Molder said
“Not really, since it reflects the wishes of the young lady.”
“I presume she slept here last night,” Molder said.
“She did not,” Stone said. “Where did you sleep?”
Molder apparently did not wish to say. “Wherever I wanted to,” he managed, finally.
“Good. Now, will you kindly leave these premises?”
“Or what?”
“That’s the last time I’ll ask you politely.”
“Who gives a shit?”
Stone saw Joan appear behind Molder, her Colt .45 half-concealed in her skirt.
Stone shook his head. “It won’t be necessary to shoot him,” he said. “He’s leaving right now.” Stone stood up and walked around his desk. Molder stood, turned, and stalked out.
“Aw, shucks,” Joan said. “I was looking forward to it.”
“Maybe later,” Stone said, “if he returns.”
“I’ll count on it,” Joan replied, then went back to her desk.
Stone’s cell rang. Dino. “Hello?”
“I just had a strong feeling that you might need me.”
“That’s very psychic of you, but fortunately the threat you imagined has vanished.”
“Someone about our Matilda?”
“Yes, the cad from last evening. He has suddenly developed a proprietary interest in her.”
“Did you tell him that ship has sailed?”
“I didn’t bother. I just threw him out.”
“Literally?”
“I was ready to, but he sensed that and fled.”
“Did Joan want to shoot him?”
“Of course, but I stayed her hand. No blood on the carpet, and all that.”
“A pity.”
“He’ll be back,” Stone said, “as soon as he finds somebody to do the dirty work for him.”
“Well, then Joan will get another crack at him.”
“No doubt.”
“Can I interest you in some tickets to the policeman’s ball?” Dino asked.
“You mean they’re still using that dodge to raise drinking money?”
“No, it’s now a charity.”
“Put me down for two,” Stone said.
“Good. I’ll bill you the thousand dollars.”
“You’re getting five hundred dollars a ticket? That’s a little steep, isn’t it?”
“It includes a corned beef and cabbage dinner.”
“So, it’s the Irish policeman’s ball?”
“Right. You want tickets to the Italian one, too?”
“Take the grand and do with it as you will. And before you ask, I am not actually attending either of them.”
“Got it.” Dino hung up.
Joan buzzed. “Matilda Martin on two.”
Stone pressed the button. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. I just wanted to thank you for rescuing me last night.”
“You’re welcome. The young man, Molder, called on me this morning and ordered me not to molest you further.”
“Further? You haven’t even started!”
“I didn’t want to tell him that. He seemed to want it to be true.”
“One point: Trench is a coward, but he can still be dangerous.”
“I rather thought so. That means he’ll hire somebody else to beat me up.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“I’ll try and be ready.”
“He’ll choose a time when he thinks you’re vulnerable and he’s not.”
“Of course. Dinner tonight, here?”
“Love to.”
“Six-thirty?”
“Perfect, then you can molest me further.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Chapter 4
Trench Molder spent the afternoon at his athletic club, toning up. His trainer, Howard Keegan, a retired Marine known as Huff, helped him with the weights, then sat down next to Molder at his invitation. “Something I can do for you, Trench?”
“No, Huff, but there’s someone you can do for me.”
“It would be my pleasure. How dead do you want him?”
“Not dead, just crippled a bit. I don’t want to have skinned knuckles if the police should take an interest.”
“Understood. That’s my work, not yours.”
“Five hundred?”
“That’s generous, especially if I enjoy myself.”
“You can enjoy yourself as much as you like,” Molder said.
“Who is he, and where do I find him?”
“His name is Stone Barrington. He’s an uptown lawyer who’s messing with a girl of mine. He lives in Turtle Bay.”
“I know the area. Security?”
Molder handed him Barrington’s business card. “I was there this morning, and if he has security, I couldn’t find it. Still, I think it would be best to take him away from home. I asked around and he travels in a green Bentley and has a small man as his driver.”
“You want the small one hurt, too?”
“Don’t bother. Just put Barrington in a hospital for a few days.”
“As you wish. Description?”
“Over six feet, fairly solid build. Seems to think he’s bulletproof.”
“They’re the best kind,” Huff said, “the ones who think they can’t be hurt.”
“Something else. He has a friend who’s the police commissioner, so don’t get caught doing it. You should wear a mask. I don’t want you ID’d by some passerby.”
“Regular haunts?”
“P. J. Clarke’s, Patroon. I don’t know if he has a club.”
“No matter. I’ll do my research. Is he likely to fight back?”