by Stuart Woods
“If you’ll excuse me,” Mark said, “I have a computer to get back to. I’m unaccustomed to seeing daylight during the workday.”
They said their goodbyes and Mark left. Eggers took a seat, and Herbie handed him a cup of coffee.
“Well, Herbert,” Eggers said, “congratulations on making our new client happy.”
“Thank you, Bill.”
“Now, what have you done for me lately?”
Herbie laughed aloud. “Greedy, aren’t you?”
“You’d better know it.”
“Well, last night Robert Bentley the Third and I had dinner at the Brook with Robert Bentley the Second.”
Eggers’s eyebrows went up. “And?”
“And the elder Mr. Bentley says he’d like to give us some new business soon.”
“How soon?”
“I’m going to leave that up to him, and I’m not going to rush him. He said something interesting, though.”
“What was that?”
“He put this to me hypothetically: how would I handle a major piece of commercial litigation for a client?”
“Tell me what you told him.”
“I told him that we are a large enough firm to have specialists in every area of the law, and that I would assemble a team of our best litigators, then act as the firm’s liaison with the client.”
“Whew!” Eggers said. “I’m relieved to hear it. I’m glad you didn’t tell him you’d handle it yourself.”
“I’m young, Bill, but I’m not crazy.”
“Do you have any idea if he’s referring to a real lawsuit?”
“My guess is, yes. He described it as ‘dangerous.’”
Eggers frowned. “I’m not aware of anything like that looming in Bentley’s future.”
“Perhaps it hasn’t happened yet. Perhaps he’s thinking of suing, not being sued.”
“I’m going to have a word with our litigation department and see what we can find out. If Bentley comes to us with this, I want to be ready.” Eggers got to his feet and wandered out.
Cookie came in with a brown envelope and handed it to Herbie. “This just came by messenger.”
“Thanks, Cookie. You performed brilliantly in putting together that closing.”
“Thank you, kind sir.”
“You’re getting a fifteen percent raise, starting with your next paycheck,” Herbie said. “And it is richly deserved.”
Cookie smiled broadly, revealing small, beautiful teeth. “Thank you again.” She curtsied, then went back to her desk.
Herbie opened the envelope and removed the contents. It was a statement of his ex-wife’s brokerage account, with a letter saying that it had been released to him. He flipped through the pages, looking at the investments, then he called Cookie back in and handed her the statement. “Write a reply to the signatory of this letter, to be hand delivered, thanking him and instructing him to immediately liquidate all the shares, except the Apple stock, and to wire the proceeds to my checking account. Then write another letter to my banker, telling him that upon receipt of the funds he is to issue a cashier’s check for three million dollars, payable to Mark Hayes, and have it hand delivered to me.”
“It will be done,” she said.
“And when those are done, I’ll dictate a document transferring some of High Cotton Ideas stock to me, for Mark Hayes’s signature.”
“I shall return,” she said.
Herbie sat back and reflected that things were going very well indeed for him, and that it had been his experience that whenever things were going very well for him he always found a way to screw it up. When he had won sixteen million dollars, net, in the lottery, he managed to blow six million of it in three months, and all he had to show for it was an apartment, a car, and some clothes. He resolved that henceforth he would devote himself to making his fortune grow, instead of blowing it. Now that he had money in Marshall Brennan’s hedge fund and an investment in High Cotton Ideas, he was off to a good start.
22
Stone met Dino for dinner at P.J. Clarke’s.
“Are we ever going to have dinner anywhere else?” Dino asked.
“I’m game,” Stone said. “Suggest somewhere.”
“I mean, I’ve always liked Clarke’s, but none of the regulars from Elaine’s are ever here.”
“That’s because, like us, they don’t know what else to do with themselves.”
“I miss them,” Dino said.
“Why? You didn’t spend a lot of time with them.”
“Yeah, but I miss them anyway.”
“Dino, I’ve got news for you: Elaine is dead, and Elaine’s is closed for good. Get used to it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Are you seeing the dancer, Rita?”
“Oh, yeah, but the hours may be more than I can deal with. Right now, she’s available in the evenings, because she rehearses in the daytime, then, after tomorrow night, she’ll only be available in the daytime, when I’m working, because she’s performing at night. You going to the opening?”
“I think we’re sitting together.”
“Okay, and there’s the party at Sardi’s afterward. It may be the last time I see Rita.”
“Cheer up, maybe the show will close after the first performance.”
“I wouldn’t wish that on her. How much have you seen of Marla?”
“Only the once. Fortunately, unlike Rita, she’ll be available in the evenings once the show has opened.”
“Good for you. If I can’t see Rita, then I’m going to start thinking about Shelley again.”
“Have you heard from her since you booted her out of your bed?”
“I had a postcard with a picture of the Port Authority bus terminal on it. No signature.”
“What did she have to say?”
“‘See you around.’”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I hope you burned the postcard. You don’t want that lying around the house.”
“I’ve been a cop all these years, and you think I don’t know how to destroy incriminating evidence?”
Stone laughed. “I was getting worried about you.”
“I was getting worried about me, too. You know, there’s this female detective in my squad named Vivian DeCarlo, nice Ital-ian girl.”
“Dino, the next worse thing to fucking Shelley Bach is fucking somebody in your squad.”
“Unless we can get away with it,” Dino replied.
“Oh, shit,” Stone said. “You’re determined to destroy your career, one way or the other.”
“So what if I do? I’ve got the money from my divorce settlement, and a pension waiting for me.”
“Retirement would be an unnatural act for you. What would you do with yourself?”
“I don’t know. What do other retirees do?”
“Play shuffleboard and wait to die.”
“I could travel.”
“You hate travel, unless I’m there to fly you.”
“I could buy a place in Italy and go live there.”
“You’re a New Yorker, not an Italian.”
“With a name like Bacchetti, I’m not Italian?”
“You live and breathe New York. What would you do in Italy? You speak about as much Italian as I do.”
“I used to speak Italian, with my grandmother, when I was a kid. It would come back to me.”
“You’d end up sitting in some bar in Rome, trying to pick up American tourists, so you could talk to somebody.”
“That’s pretty much what I do here, except they’re not tourists.”
“What you do here is be a cop. I hope you’re not stupid enough to give that up before they boot you out.”
Dino sighed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to quit.”
“If you start seeing this DeCarlo girl, you’ll end up getting one or both of you transferred, probably to the Bronx or the outer reaches of Brooklyn.”
Stone looked toward the door
and saw Herbie Fisher standing there.
“There’s Herbie,” Dino said. “At last, a familiar face.”
Stone waved him over. “He wants to be called Herb now-he’s growing up.”
Herbie sat down and ordered a drink. “What a day!” he said. “What a week!”
“Is that good?” Dino asked.
“You bet your ass it is,” Herbie said. “I got promoted to senior associate and pulled in two pieces of new business, maybe three.”
“What’s the third?” Stone asked.
Herbie told them about his dinner with Robert Bentley II.
“Sounds promising,” Stone said.
“Eggers is champing at the bit for me to get that.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“But I’m not going to rush it. I’m going to let him come to me.”
“That’s wise, if he comes.”
“He’ll come-his son is my associate.”
“How’d you swing that?” Dino asked.
“I didn’t swing it. The kid is the newest associate, and I’m the newest senior associate.”
“A marriage made in heaven,” Dino said.
“Don’t laugh, it could turn out that way. If we handle a major litigation for Bentley, it could bring millions into the firm.”
“Eggers would like that,” Stone said.
“I’m redoing my apartment,” Herbie said, apropos of nothing.
“Okay,” Stone replied.
“My secretary is doing it. Turns out she has a real gift. You should come and see my office-even Eggers liked it. He picked up the tab for it, too.”
“My word,” Stone said, “you did have a good week, didn’t you?”
“I’m going to make more rain,” Herbie said. “My goal is to bring in more business than a senior associate ever has.”
“The boy has ambition,” Dino said. “Who knew? Herbie-”
“Herb, please.”
“Ah, Herb, how’d you go from being a gold-plated fuckup to being a senior associate at Woodman and Weld?”
“Hard work and good luck,” Herbie said. “And good friends.”
“That’s an unbeatable combination,” Stone said, clapping him on the back.
Stone looked toward the door and saw Mike Freeman standing there. “Over here!” he yelled.
Mike came over and sat down. “You know, I went to Elaine’s automatically, looking for you.”
“I have to stop myself from doing the same thing,” Stone said.
“Stone, you up for a trip to L.A.?”
“What’s up in L.A.?”
“I think it’s time we had a look at our hotel’s progress.”
“Well, the hotel is a Woodman and Weld client, so I guess I can justify the trip.”
“We’ll take the Strategic Services G-550,” Mike said.
“That will take the sting out of air travel.”
“Can I come?” Herbie asked.
Stone shook his head. “No junkets for you. You have new business to take care of.”
“How about me?” Dino asked. “I can take the time.”
“You’re welcome, Dino,” Mike said. He looked around. “Do they serve food here?”
23
The big Gulfstream lined up for takeoff on Runway 1 at Teterboro, and the pilot pushed the throttles forward.
“What happened to the beautiful pilot Suzanne Alley?” Stone asked. “We had dinner in London once.”
“She got a better offer,” Mike replied.
The pilot rotated and the jet rose and climbed quickly.
“I’ll be interested to see if we get cleared all the way to cruising altitude,” Stone said.
“Not until we get away from Newark Liberty,” Mike said, “but that won’t take long.”
The airplane leveled off at Flight Level 440. The stewardess unbuckled her seat belt and came aft with a tray of breakfast pastries and a pot of coffee.
Dino accepted a pastry and a cup of coffee. “This is better than flying in your airplane,” he said to Stone.
“We have pastries and coffee on my airplane,” Stone replied. “If you bring them.”
“I believe my point is made,” Dino said. “I’d also have to bring my own stewardess.”
Later that day they set down at Burbank and got into a waiting rented Mercedes. Mike drove.
“I’ve booked us into the Bel-Air,” he said. “Might as well check out our competition.”
“I hope they don’t know who we are,” Stone said. “We might get mugged.”
“They’ll know,” Mike said. “They knew well before we broke ground. Shall we visit the site now?”
“Sure,” Stone said.
Mike drove them to Bel-Air and up to Vance Calder’s old property. Cars and pickup trucks were lined up along the road for a quarter of a mile. “I guess they don’t have any parking areas finished yet,” he said. They turned into the driveway and stopped to identify themselves to the security guard, then they continued up the winding driveway. “There’ll be cottages on both sides of the road all the way up,” Mike said.
They parked just short of the front door to the old house and got out of the car. A portico wide enough for half a dozen cars was being constructed, and the old garage was being turned into interior space. They looked down the hill to where an enormous pit had been dug. Mike pointed. “Underground parking,” he said.
“It looks like a giant anthill,” Stone said. “I’ve never seen so many workmen on a site.”
“We’ve got three construction companies working two shifts,” Mike said. “Nobody is going to believe how quickly this hotel is going to open.”
“Where is Arrington’s house going to be?” Stone asked.
“Follow me,” Mike said, and led the way into the house, which was being enlarged to serve as the reception area and main restaurant. They walked down the central hallway and into the back garden, then around the swimming pool, to where a building was being framed.
“Here we are,” Mike said.
They walked through the rooms on plywood subflooring. The sound of electric hammers and saws was everywhere.
“This is good,” Stone said. In the original deal he had negotiated for Arrington to have her own house on the property. “It’s not as big as the old house, but it’s plenty big.”
“It’s your house now,” Mike said. “And Peter’s.”
“And yours, Mike, and yours, too, Dino, whenever you’re out here.”
“Free?” Dino asked, amazed.
“You can pay your own room service bill,” Stone said.
“That’s a pretty good deal,” Dino said, laughing. “How many bedrooms?”
“Four bedrooms, six baths, and two powder rooms, plus two staff rooms. Also, living room, dining room, kitchen, and a very nice study/library.”
“Are you going to let them rent it when you’re not here?” Mike asked.
“Maybe. It’s arranged so that the master suite can be locked off from paying guests.”
“That will help with the cash flow,” Mike pointed out. He found the architect and the construction foreman, and they began answering questions.
Later, they checked into a three-bedroom cottage at the Bel-Air Hotel.
“What did you think about how things are going?” Stone asked Mike.
“I was impressed,” Mike said. “Everything is on schedule. Frankly, I hadn’t expected that.”
There was a large bowl of fruit on the entrance hall table, and a note addressed to Stone, from the manager. He read it aloud to Mike and Dino. “The Bel-Air welcomes the competition,” it said. “We’ll do our best to show you how it’s done.”
Everybody had a good laugh.
On the living room coffee table was a large flower arrangement, with an envelope. Stone picked it up and handed it to Dino. “It’s addressed to you.”
“It can’t be,” Dino said. “Nobody knows I’m here.”
“Nevertheless, it has your name on it,” Stone replied.
&n
bsp; Dino took the envelope and opened it. His face fell.
“What?” Stone asked.
Dino handed him the note inside.
Stone read it: “I hope you had a good trip,” it said. “See you when you return.” It was signed, simply, “S.”
“Uh-oh,” Stone said.
“Yeah,” Dino agreed.
“What is it?” Mike asked.
“Nothing much,” Stone replied, “just a note from a serial killer of Dino’s acquaintance.”
24
The following morning they visited the building site again and talked more with the architect and construction foremen, then they drove back to Burbank Airport and boarded the G-550. They were back at Teterboro in time for Stone and Dino to make the opening of Marla’s new show.
AT THE final curtain Stone and Dino stood and beat their hands together and cheered, along with the rest of the audience. Marla and Rita took their bows, and finally, the curtain fell again.
They strolled through Shubert Alley over to Sardi’s and were seated at a large round table, which gradually began to fill up. Marla and Rita arrived looking freshly scrubbed and excited.
“It was wonderful,” Stone said.
“Do you really think so?”
“Everybody in the house thought so, and the critics will, too. You’re looking at a long run.”
Dino turned to Rita. “Am I ever going to see you again?”
“I get one night off every week,” she said.
The party continued past midnight, then somebody arrived with a stack of newspapers, and the producer stood on his chair and read the reviews aloud, to appreciative applause from the crowd.
Stone looked around the room and saw someone familiar. He turned to Dino. “Hey, remember our final dinner at Elaine’s, when a tall redhead clocked some not-so-innocent bystander?”
Dino looked tense. “Yeah. Why?”
“Because I just caught a glimpse of her over there somewhere,” Stone replied, pointing.
“Oh, shit,” Dino said.
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s Shelley.”
“Who’s Shelley?” Rita asked.
“Somebody Dino doesn’t want to meet,” Stone said.
“Why not?” she asked.