“He was told by a participant who was indiscreet,” Stone said. “I’ll take steps to see that it doesn’t matter.”
“I hope that works out for you,” she said.
“So do I.”
The following morning they took a walk along the snowy shore.
“This place is more fun when we can take out a boat,” Stone said.
“Last night made up for the absence of boats,” Willa replied.
“That’s your fault,” Stone said. “You were irresistible.”
“A girl likes to be irresistible,” she replied.
“Tell me, what brought Herbie Fisher to the attention of someone as lofty as you in the DA’s office?”
“As part of my ADA’s supervision, I read a memo describing her—how shall I put it?—negotiation with you.”
“And?”
“It read more like a capitulation,” Willa replied. “I had a few words with her about that, and next time she encounters a defense lawyer she’ll be a lot tougher.”
“The young woman saved your office the expense of a prosecution that you’d have lost and the resulting embarrassment,” Stone said. “Speaking as an ex-cop who enjoyed putting criminals away, I think she made the right call. So does Dino, you’ll remember.”
“I can’t judge my people by what the cops think of them,” Willa said.
“I should have thought that the cops’ opinion of a prosecution would be a very important factor in judging new ADAs,” Stone said. “It doesn’t take any guts to bring a case to prosecution, if there’s any kind of case at all, but it takes some guts and smarts to look at the evidence and see that it’s not enough for a conviction.”
“Maybe, but a different, more experienced prosecutor might have come to a different conclusion about the evidence.”
“No,” Stone said, “if I had been talking to you instead, you would have come to the same conclusion.”
“And why do you think that?”
“Because in a case like Herbie’s, I’m a better defense attorney than I was a lover last night.”
“You think you’re that good, huh?”
“As an attorney, yes.”
“And if I’d tried the case, you think you could have got an acquittal?”
“I’m sure of it, but the greater skill lies in seeing that a case never comes to trial. Look at it this way: I did your office a favor.”
“You have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”
“I’m a good, pragmatic judge of what I can and can’t do,” Stone said. “If you’d had evidence that was conclusive, I’d have been looking to make a plea deal. As it was, I wouldn’t have allowed Herbie to accept any offer you made short of a withdrawal of charges.”
“I’ve probably been involved in a lot more such cases than you have,” she said, “during fifteen years of prosecution, and I’m a good, pragmatic judge of what’s possible in a courtroom.”
“What’s your conviction rate in the cases you’ve brought to trial?” Stone asked.
“Personally?”
“No, of the cases you’ve approved for trial, both yours and your subordinates’?”
“About eighty-five percent,” she replied.
“That’s very good,” Stone said, “but in those of my cases that were tried and I felt should never have gone to trial, my acquittal rate is one hundred percent. Overall, it’s about the same as your conviction rate.”
“Then we’re evenly matched,” she said.
“We are, as long as you don’t bring cases I know you can’t win,” Stone replied. “And I’ll make it my business to see that you never lay a glove on Herbie Fisher.”
“What’s so special about Herbie Fisher?” she asked.
“If you knew him, you’d know how harmless he is.”
“He wasn’t harmless to Dattila the Hun,” she pointed out.
“Like a lot of people,” Stone said, “Herbie will fight like a cornered rat when his back is to the wall. Dattila put him in that position by repeatedly trying to kill him, to Dattila’s cost.”
They turned back toward the house.
“I think I’m going to have to go back to New York this afternoon,” Stone said. “A couple of days ago I was comfortable about my upcoming meeting, but now I’m not, so I need to be there. Can we have dinner in the city tonight?”
“Sure,” she said. “Anyway, I’m not so sure how much more snowy landscape I could have stood.”
THIRTY-NINE
Before leaving the house that afternoon, Stone called Bob Cantor, an ex-cop who was very good with technical matters.
“Hey, Stone.”
“Bob, I’ve got something urgent on my plate. Can you meet me at my house at six p.m., prepared to go to work?”
“With what kind of tools?”
“Bring the van,” Stone said. Cantor had a van with several hundred thousand dollars’ worth of equipment installed and tools for everything.
“Will do,” Cantor said, then hung up.
The flight back was uneventful. Stone dropped Willa at her building, and they agreed to meet at Elaine’s later. As Stone pulled into his garage he saw Bob Cantor’s van parked outside.
The two men shook hands, and Stone let them into the house and turned off the alarm that Cantor had installed, then he led Cantor to the dining room.
“Hey!” Cantor said, looking around at the cameras and cable. “Looks like you’re doing Good Morning America from here.”
“Here’s the deal,” Stone said, pulling Cantor into the powder room and closing the door, then turning on the water. “A client of mine is being questioned here for four days, starting Monday morning. Their techs have installed all this stuff and God knows what else.”
“You mean you think they might have overdone it a bit?”
“That’s what I mean. I want you to sweep the whole house for bugs. If you find something, don’t disable it, but put yours alongside it. You can do that without wires, now, right?”
“Right. It will all be recorded in the van.”
“My deal with the questioners is that they will make two copies of the video and audio of the meetings and give me one.”
Cantor thought for a moment. “I only saw one recorder.”
“I’m not surprised,” Stone said, “so I want my own recordings of the sessions.”
“I can do that,” Cantor said.
“Go to it.” They departed the powder room and went their separate ways.
Cantor and a helper were hard at work when Stone left for Elaine’s.
Dino and Doris Trent were already at their table when Stone arrived, and Willa arrived a moment later.
“You know, I’ve heard about this place, but I’ve never been here,” Willa said. “It’s too far uptown for my crowd.”
Stone introduced the women to Elaine, who sat down for a minute. “So?” she said.
“Life is interesting,” Stone said.
“As bad as that, huh?”
“Maybe not.”
“Gotta go,” Elaine said, rising to greet another table of regulars who had just sat down.
“So that’s the famous Elaine,” Willa said.
“The one and only,” Stone replied.
“How’s the food?” she asked, fingering a menu.
“Better than you’ve heard,” Stone said. “The food critics get pissed off because they can’t get the good tables that are reserved for the regulars.”
A waiter appeared and took their drink order.
“Ah,” Stone said, looking toward the front door, where Herbie and his new wife were entering. “And now you get to meet the dangerous and deceptive Herbert Fisher.”
“You’re kidding,” Willa said.
The couple stopped at the table, and Stone made the introductions.
“I’m glad you can afford to eat out, Stone,” Stephanie said, “in your reduced circumstances.”