“It wasn’t bad; I enjoyed the crowd.”
“Okay, eight-thirty at Elaine’s?”
“See you there,” she said, and hung up.
Stone closed his eyes and lay back. After what seemed only a moment later Joan spoke. “It’s six-thirty; I’m leaving.”
Stone opened his eyes. “Six-thirty? You’re kidding.”
“You’ve been out like a light.”
Stone struggled to a sitting position. “I certainly have.”
“A cold shower will bring you around.”
“Brrrr,” Stone said.
FORTY-SIX
As Stone was leaving the house the phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Dino. I can’t make dinner; work.”
“I’m devastated,” Stone replied. “Have you gone off me?”
“Long, long ago,” Dino replied, then hung up.
Stone walked into Elaine’s to find his table uncharacteristically vacant. He sat down and accepted his usual Knob Creek, which the bartender had begun pouring as he was getting out of the cab.
Elaine came over and sat down. “So, where’s Dino?”
“He’s not going to make it tonight.”
“Is he in the hospital? We could send flowers.”
“He says he’s working.”
“That means he’s eating somewhere else. If it’s at Elio’s, I’ll kill him.” Elio’s, a rival restaurant down Second Avenue, had been started by an old headwaiter of hers many years before.
“How would you know?” Stone asked, forgetting for a moment that Elaine always knew everything.
“I have spies.”
“You are conducting a spying campaign against Elio’s?”
“I don’t have to; people tell me things. You tell Dino to watch himself.” She got up and moved to another table.
Willa had not yet arrived, so Stone got out his phone and called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“If you’re at Elio’s, you’re a dead man.”
“So that’s what she thinks?”
“She says she has spies.”
“I’m at work.”
“You’d better have witnesses.” Stone hung up, chuckling.
Willa breezed through the door wearing a long sheepskin coat. A waiter hung it up for her. “Whatever he’s having,” she said to him, then sat down.
“What good taste in whiskey you have,” Stone said, kissing her as her drink arrived.
“Same to ya,” she said, raising her glass and knocking half of it back.
“Tough day at the office, huh?”
“You could say that,” she said with a deep sigh. “How about you? You sounded wasted when I called.”
“Last day of my, ah, deposition. A lot of tension had built up, for various reasons. I was letting it all out when you and half a dozen other people interrupted my sweet reverie.”
“Sorry about that.”
“One of those who interrupted was a client of mine, name of Herbie Fisher. He says your office is investigating him.”
Willa appeared to choke on her bourbon. “Listen,” she said hoarsely, coughing and clearing her throat, “I am not investigating Herbert Fisher.”
“In that case, you should tell your investigators to be more subtle when questioning the doormen in his building.”
“Stone, I tell you again, I am not investigating Herbert Fisher.”
“Ah, then it’s some other enthusiastic but judgment-impaired law-school dropout in your office, is it?”
“I cannot comment on that. I can tell you only that I am not investigating Herbert Fisher, and neither, to the best of my knowledge, is anyone else in my office.”
Stone peered at her narrowly. “That sounded like an almost complete denial,” he said. “Let’s discuss that ‘to the best of my knowledge’ part.”
“It means what it says,” she replied, sinking the rest of her drink.
Stone waved for another for both of them. “Somebody in your office is investigating Herbie?”
“To the best of my knowledge, no.”
“Stop saying that! You’re a deputy DA. Don’t you know everything that goes on in your office, or are you pleading incompetence?”
“I am highly competent,” she replied through clenched teeth, “but I do not know everything that goes on in our office all the time. Is that clear enough for you?”
“As through a glass, darkly,” Stone replied. “Let’s take this down a level to the rumor category. What have you heard about one or more ADAs in your office investigating Herbie Fisher?”
She took a gulp of her second bourbon and faced him. “Let me ask you another question, and please give me a precise answer.”
“Shoot.”
“Are you now representing or have you ever represented anyone in the immediate or extended family of Herbert Fisher?”
Stone thought for a moment about what that question might mean. “You’re investigating his wife?”
“Answer my question, if you want to go on talking about this.”
“No, I am not now nor have I ever represented anyone in the immediate or extended family of Herbie Fisher.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes is the answer to your question.”
Stone struggled to remember what his question was and finally remembered. “Investigating his wife for what?” he asked.
“I warn you, this is the last question on this subject I will answer. Got that?”
“Got it.”
“Here’s my answer: I cannot tell you.”
“What kind of answer is that?” Stone asked.
“An honest one. Please accept it.”
“I accept it.”
“And please know that this conversation is entirely confidential.”
“Wait a minute,” Stone said, “you can’t say that after the fact; it has to be before.”
“I am not a newspaper reporter interviewing you and promising to keep your name confidential.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Let me put it this way,” Willa said. “This and any other conversation you and I have had on the subject of Herbert Fisher or any member of his immediate or extended family is entirely confidential. Got that?”
“But—”
“Either you’ve got that, or I’ll pay for my two drinks and leave immediately, never to be heard from again. And you’d better not take too long to think about it.”
Stone thought about it instantly. “Got it. Would you like another drink?”
“I haven’t finished my second one,” she said. “Are you trying to get me drunk? Because if you are, I should tell you that three drinks isn’t going to do it, since I’m not driving, and drinking will have no effect on my memory of the details of our conversation.”
Stone handed her a menu. “Let’s order dinner,” he said.
FORTY-SEVEN
Stone awoke suddenly. He was in a strange bed, completely disoriented, his head throbbing. He sat up on his elbows and looked around, trying to remember the evening before.
He needed to go to the toilet badly. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and fell out, having missed the set of steps provided for the purpose. Was the bed a foot higher than standard, or was he hallucinating?
He got to his feet and saw a note on the bedside table.
Some of us have to go to work. There’s coffee made.
Stone made it to the john, peed and splashed water on his face. He avoided looking in the mirror and went back to the bedroom to get dressed. This involved a scavenger hunt for the various items of his clothing. One by one he located everything but one sock, which was nowhere to be found no matter how hard he looked.