Fresh Disasters (4 page)

S
tone dropped Dino at the 19th Precinct. “Elaine’s, later?”

“Sure,” Dino said.

Stone drove home, put the car in the garage and went into his office. He sat down at his desk, and Joan came in. “Uh-oh,” she said, then disappeared toward the kitchen. She came back with some ice cubes wrapped in a dish towel and pressed it against his jaw.

“I’m glad you’re alive, but I guess you didn’t exactly come away unscathed.”

“You could say that,” Stone said, taking the ice pack from her and holding it to his face.

“The swelling is conspicuous,” she said.

“I noticed.”

“I guess the other guy is pretty messed up, huh?”

“Not a mark on him,” Stone replied, “but their front door is in many pieces.”

“You busted their front door?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Did Mr. Dattila get served?”

“He did.”

“You think he’ll respond?”

“Probably not, but then I’ll get a summary judgment, and I’ll take his fucking coffeehouse.”

“Good luck on that,” Joan said. “I take it Eggers is expecting some ink from this episode?”

“Apparently.”

“Maybe I’d better do something about that.”

“Do what?”

“I know somebody who knows somebody on Page Six at the
Post.
” Page Six wasn’t on page six; it was just the name of the biggest gossip column in town.

“I’m not sure how Eggers would respond to having Woodman and Weld on Page Six.”

“Well, we’re not going to get it in the
Wall Street Journal,
” Joan said.

“You have a point. Go ahead and speak to your friend; Page Six is what Eggers deserves.” He worked his jaw back and forth; it was sore.

The phone rang, and Joan picked it up. “The Barrington Practice. Yes, he’s right here.” She handed Stone the phone. “A client.” She walked back toward her office.

“Stone Barrington.”

“Hi, it’s Herbert Q. Fisher.”

Stone couldn’t suppress a groan.

“I hear you’re having trouble getting Dattila served.”

“Where did you hear that?” Stone demanded, annoyed.

“I got my sources.”

“Well, Mr. Dattila was duly served an hour ago.”

“You think he’ll respond?”

“I’m not clairvoyant, Herbie; we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“If he doesn’t, we’ll take everything he’s got.”

“Herbie, it was tough enough serving Dattila; think how hard it would be to take property from him, under
any
circumstances.”

“But we’d have the power of the court on our side.”

“So far in Mr. Dattila’s life experience, the courts haven’t laid a glove on him. Now go away, Herbie; I’ve got work to do.”

“I’ll check with you tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother; I’ll call you when Dattila sends us a check.” He hung up and buzzed Joan.

“Yes?”

“I’m sort of sore and tired; I’m going to go upstairs and take a nap.”

“But you never take naps.”

“Today is the exception.” He hung up and walked to the elevator. He didn’t feel like climbing stairs.

S
tone woke up in his darkened bedroom and looked at the bedside clock: nearly eight. He rolled out of bed and into a shower.

At eight-thirty he walked into Elaine’s, feeling somewhat more human. The Knob Creek was on the table as soon as he sat down.

“You’re looking a little rough,” Frank, one of the two headwaiters, said. “What happened to your face?”

“I bumped into something.”

“It’s turning a funny color.”

“It is?” Stone got up, went into the men’s room and checked the mirror. It was, indeed, turning a funny color. He went back to his table, where Dino had arrived and was taking a sip of Stone’s drink.

“I don’t know how you drink that bourbon stuff,” he said, making a face.

“It’s the patriotic thing to do,” Stone explained, “instead of drinking that foreign gunk you’re so partial to. Bourbon is our only national whiskey these days. Do you know why it’s called Knob Creek?”

“I give up.”

“Knob Creek is the birthplace and boyhood home of Abraham Lincoln. You see how patriotic that is?”

“How do you know this stuff?”

“I am a student of American history. Also, it’s on a little tag that comes with the bottle.”

“Your face is turning blue,” Dino said.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Maybe you ought to get it X-rayed.”

“It’s not broken, just bruised.”

“That was a pretty big guy who hit you.”

“Yeah, but look what I did to his door.”

“Well, you really cleaned that door’s clock, but I still think you ought to get your face X-rayed.”

“Dino, when I start relying on you for medical advice, I’ll already be dead.”

“And I’ll be there to say I told you so.”

“I know, I know.” Stone flexed his neck and shoulders.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m sore from hitting the pavement,” Stone said. “I think I need a massage; you know a masseuse?”

“Well, I heard about this place down on First Avenue.”

“Not
that
kind of masseuse.”

“I’ll check my Rolodex when I get back to my desk.”

“Thanks, pal.” Stone looked up to see a very beautiful woman enter the restaurant. Frank caught his eye and laughed. A moment later, he seated the woman at the table next to Stone’s.

“Good evening,” she said as she sat down.

“Good evening,” Stone responded. He turned back to his bourbon, again flexing his shoulders and neck.

“You look a little stiff,” the woman said. “You should have a massage.”

“You know, I was just telling my friend here that very thing when you walked in.”

She opened her purse and produced a card, handing it to him. It read:

MARILYN
MASSAGE IN YOUR HOME OR OFFICE

Stone smiled. “This is providential. If you’re alone, would you like to join us?”

“Thank you, yes,” she said, rising.

Stone held a chair for her. “My name is Stone Barrington; this is my friend, Dino Bacchetti.”

“I’m Marilyn,” she said.

“Marilyn what?”

“Just Marilyn; it’s easier that way.”

“May I get you a drink?”

“I’d love an appletini,” she said.

Stone ordered the drink.

“Now,” she said, after her first sip. “Let’s get business out of the way.” She produced a notebook. “I’m free tomorrow morning at ten,” she said.

“By an odd coincidence, so am I,” Stone replied. He handed her his card.

“Will it upset anyone at your office if you are naked on a table?” she asked.

“Not in the least,” Stone replied, handing her a menu.

M
arilyn had ordered and was on her second appletini.

“So, what do you gentlemen do?” she asked.

“I’m an attorney,” Stone said, “and Dino isn’t a gentleman.”

She laughed. “I’m sure that isn’t true,” she said soothingly to Dino.

“Of course not,” Dino replied. “I’m a police officer. Stone used to be, but since he retired he thinks he’s a gentleman.”

“I make no such claims,” Stone said. “That was Marilyn’s characterization.”

“You look awfully young to be retired,” she said to Stone.

“He was retired by popular demand,” Dino said.

“You were kicked off the police force?” Marilyn asked, looking shocked.

“I took a bullet in the knee; it was a medical retirement.”

“How long were you a policeman?”

“Fourteen years. It was long enough.”

“And what kind of law do you practice?”

“The shady kind,” Dino interjected.

“I resent that,” Stone said.

“You go right ahead.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Marilyn said. “You strike me as an ethical person.”

“You are an excellent judge of character,” Stone said, patting her hand.

“I am,” she agreed. “I rely on first impressions.”

“You must be disappointed a lot,” Dino said.

“Not at all.” She turned back to Stone. “And what sort of cases are you working on right now.”

Dino burst out laughing. “Tell her, Stone.” He turned to Marilyn. “You’re going to love this.”

“It’s a personal-injury suit,” Stone said, glaring at Dino.

She reached over and touched his swollen jaw. “Were you the person injured?”

“Not initially.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Stone served a summons on a nefarious character today, and another nefarious character took a swing at him. And connected,” Dino said.

“And how did you respond?” she asked Stone.

“Stone hurt the guy’s front door,” Dino explained, “while flying through it.”

“And how did you respond?” she asked.

“My response was curtailed by the number of nefarious characters who were present.”

“We both beat a hasty retreat,” Dino said.

“Oh? You were there, too, and you didn’t come to the aid of your friend?”

“I came to his aid with my badge and gun, and by driving the getaway car.”

“Discretion was the better part of valor,” Stone said.

“That’s Shakespeare,” Dino explained. “Stone quotes people a lot.”

“Not a lot,” Stone said defensively.

“Just all the time.”

“Well, it’s a very nice quote,” Marilyn said, “and it sums up your reaction very succinctly.”

Stone nodded. “That’s why I used it. Dino would just have said, in his inimitable way, ‘We got the fuck out of there.’”

“And,” Dino said, “that would have summed up our reaction very succinctly.”

“You two are a sketch,” Marilyn said. “Did you used to be married?”

“We were partners when I was a cop,” Stone said. “It’s pretty much the same thing, except for the absence of sex.”

“What makes you think that’s different from marriage?” Dino asked.

“Dino is recently divorced,” Stone explained.

“Oooh,” Marilyn said, patting Dino’s hand.

“Your sympathy is misplaced,” Stone said. “Dino is a happier man these days, not that you can tell.”

“Then my congratulations,” Marilyn said. “What about you, Stone? Are you divorced?”

“No,” Stone said. “Never married.”

Dino staged a coughing fit.

“Well, for a couple of days, once; it was sort of annulled.”

Dinner arrived.

“I’m interested in your personal-injury case,” Marilyn said. “Who is the defendant?”

“A gentleman downtown.”

“What does he do?”

“Let’s just say he’s in a rather old-fashioned Italian business.”

“Like a deli?”

“More like a coffeehouse, among other things.”

“And how did he injure your client?”

“He hired two other gentlemen to beat him up.”

“Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

“That’s why I’m suing him.”

“What did he have against your client?”

“There was a gambling debt involved.”

“I think I’m beginning to get the picture,” Marilyn said.

“You’re very quick,” Dino interjected.

“Poker?” Marilyn asked.

“Sports,” Stone said.

“Like horse sports?”

“Very probably, though I wouldn’t exclude professional athletics.”

“Isn’t a lawsuit, ah, nontraditional in such a case?”

“You might say that.”

“You might say it’s never been done before,” Dino said.

“Wouldn’t calling the police be a better idea?”

“The police have failed in their duty where this defendant is concerned,” Stone said.

“Shame on you,” Marilyn said to Dino.

“It didn’t happen in my precinct,” Dino said. “Anyway, these things are usually settled privately, without resort to the courts.”

“By ‘settled privately,’” Stone said, “Dino means the plaintiffs are usually too badly injured to complain and are further discouraged from legal action by threats to their existence.”

“This does not sound like a very nice man you’re suing,” Marilyn said.

“I think that sums him up in a nutshell,” Stone replied. “He is not the sort of man most people want to tangle with.”

“Then why are you tangling with him? Are you so very brave?”

“It’s a long story,” Stone said.

Marilyn turned to Dino. “People say that when they don’t want to talk about something.”

“You
are
quick,” Dino replied.

There was a muffled ringing noise, and Marilyn dug a cell phone out of her purse. “Excuse me,” she said. “Hello? It’s difficult to say at the moment. If you insist. All right. Half an hour.” She closed the phone. “I’m afraid you gentlemen are going to have to excuse me,” she said. “I have kind of an emergency.”

“A massage emergency?” Dino asked.

“It’s a long story.”

Dino turned and glanced at Stone. “People say that when they don’t want to talk about something.”

Marilyn laughed. “You
are
quick, Dino. Stone, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at ten.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“I can’t wait to get my hands on you.” She gave a little wave and hurried away.

“Ask her if she makes calls at police stations,” Dino said.

S
tone slept a little later than usual. At nine Joan buzzed him.

“Mmmf,”
Stone said.

“Rough night?”

“No, I have a masseuse coming at ten, so it’s hardly worth getting out of bed.”

“A Mr. Bernard Finger called and left a message before I got in. Do you know him?”

“He’s a lawyer. I met him once, at the courthouse; he was defending a drug dealer. It’s probably about the Dattila thing.”

“So, Mr. Dattila is responding?”

“I’m not going to count on it. I’ll call him back later; don’t want to look too anxious.”

“Right.”

“Will you send the lady up when she arrives? Her name is Marilyn.”

“Wilco.”

“I love it when you talk pilot.” He hung up, turned over and went back to sleep. The phone buzzed again; Stone picked it up. “What?”

“It’s ten forty-five, and she hasn’t shown.”

“Ah, okay. I’ll deal with it.” He rolled out of bed, went to his dressing room, rummaged through the contents of his pockets dumped on the dresser top the night before and found Marilyn’s card. He went back, sat on the bed and dialed her number. There came back a loud squawk and a mechanical voice: “The number you have dialed is not in service; please check the number and dial again.”

He must have dialed a wrong digit, he thought, and he dialed again; same result. Very peculiar. By the time he had showered, shaved and dressed it seemed very, very peculiar. He went down to his office and called Bernard Finger.

“Stone Barrington!” Finger shouted into the phone, as if they were long-lost friends. Finger was a large, voluble man.

“Good morning, Mr. Finger. You rang?”

“Call me Bernie!” Finger shouted. “Everybody does! And I’ll call you Stoney!”

“Over my dead body,” Stone replied.

“Ha! My client can arrange that!” He dissolved in loud guffaws.

“And your client is…?”

“You’ve met him, Stone. Is that better?”

“Yes, thank you. What can I do for you, Bernie?”

“I represent a certain party downtown who was baffled yesterday to have you walk into his place of business and hand him a summons! He wants to know what this is all about!”

“Didn’t you read the complaint, Bernie?”

“Well, not exactly; it didn’t really survive the day!”

“I’ll send you a copy.”

“Just give me a quick run-through, and I’ll read it later!”

“My client lost a considerable sum of money, betting with one of your client’s employees. When he failed to pay fast enough, two of your client’s other employees dragged him from a public eating establishment, causing him great humiliation and embarrassment, then proceeded to beat him on the sidewalk, until they were interrupted by a police officer.”

“Did the cop arrest them?”

“No.”

“Well, then it couldn’t have been too serious, could it?”

“I assure you, my client takes it very seriously, since he now faces plastic surgery to his face, and he is looking forward to meeting your client in court.”

Finger’s tone changed, and he spoke more quietly. “Well, Stone, I have to presume you know who you’re dealing with here.”

“Bernard Finger, Esquire, I presume.”

“Heh, heh. Well I’m sure you understand that my client is not accustomed to being hauled into court on civil matters.”

“Only landlords are accustomed to that,” Stone replied. “I suggest you explain to your client that this is, indeed, a civil matter, which means that he will be required to testify, and he won’t be able to clam up the way he does when he’s addressed by the U.S. attorney. Tell him that I will look forward to questioning him about his various sources of income and his business practices, and I am certain that various members of the federal legal establishment will be present in the courtroom to hear his answers and to learn if he perjures himself. I would also expect a trial to be attended by many members of the media.”

“Well, Stone, that ain’t never going to happen.”

“Then I will see your client in civil jail while he ruminates on his response to my client’s lawsuit.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, Bernie, your client doesn’t understand, and I hardly need remind you that it is your duty to explain it all to him, a prospect that I do not envy you. By the way, yet another of your client’s employees attacked and injured me in the La Boheme coffeehouse yesterday, and I am contemplating legal recourse. Finally, you should tell your client that I anticipate an extralegal response to this suit, either against my client or myself, and that I welcome such actions, since they will only strengthen my position and make him further liable for a criminal action against him.”

“Stone, you sound very tense, you know. You should have a massage, or something. Good morning.” Bernard Finger hung up.

Stone called Dino.

“Bacchetti.”

“It’s Stone.”

“Morning.”

“Guess who I just had a call from.”

Dino sighed. “Just tell me.”

“Bernard Finger.”

“The man himself?”

“None other. He represents Carmine Dattila.”

“Big surprise, not that he represents Carmine, but that he bothered to call you.”

“Guess who else represents Dattila.”

“You got me again.”

“The lovely Marilyn, from last night.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“She didn’t show for our appointment this morning, and the phone number on her card is a phony. Then, after my conversation with Finger, he says, slyly, that I sound tense and I should have a massage. I think the preponderance of the evidence points to a pecuniary relationship, at the very least, between Marilyn and Carmine.”

“So you think he sent her to Elaine’s to pump you about your lawsuit?”

“What else?”

“That sounds more like something Bernie Finger would do.”

“You have a point,” Stone said.

“I frequently do.”

“Listen, why don’t you put some of your little-used police skills to work and find out who she is?”

“So what am I going to go on? Beautiful blonde with phony phone number? I don’t think our computers could handle that.”

“I guess not.”

“And besides, it’s not as though she committed a crime. I don’t think it’s a felony to offer massage and not show up.”

“It ought to be,” Stone said.

“In a more perfect world.”

“I was looking forward to that massage.”

“And I was looking forward to hearing about it.”

“I hope I run into her again,” Stone said.

“What are you going to do, slug her? Besides, she looks like she could take care of herself. Pretty big girl.”

“Parts of her.”

“That’s probably what Carmine wants you to do, so he can have her beat you up.”

“Good-bye, Dino.”

“Have a nice day.”