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“Well, he needs his father’s goodwill to live, doesn’t he?”
“Not really. A trust his mother left him became available to him last week, when he turned twenty-one. He’s got the money to do whatever he wants without Marshall’s help.”
Dino shook his head. “If there’s anything I hate worse than a violent psycho, it’s a violent psycho with money.”
“I know how you feel,” Herbie said. “I think the kid is a walking time bomb.”
“How big is he?” Dino asked.
Herbie shrugged. “I don’t know, six-three, two-twenty, maybe.”
“And you’re what? Five-seven, a hundred and sixty?”
“Good guess.”
“Do you own a firearm?” Stone asked.
“No, but I got a carry permit from the city in today’s mail, courtesy of Strategic Defense. And a very nice certificate that qualifies me to take a bullet for somebody else.”
“There’s a gun shop downtown, near headquarters,” Dino said. “All the cops shop there. Now that you’ve got your permit, why don’t you amble down there tomorrow and pick out something for yourself?”
“What do you recommend?”
“Nine millimeter, at least-something that won’t make a bulge under that beautiful suit.”
“That’s not the worst idea I ever heard,” Herbie said.
“You’re the second person this week to say that to me,” Dino replied. “I must give good advice.”
“Not always,” Stone said, “but this time, you’re right.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“All right, I’ll do that,” Herbie said.
“Just remember,” Stone said, “a gun is of no use to you unless you can put your hand on it in a hurry. Get yourself a nice holster, too. A dresser drawer isn’t close enough.”
“That’s good advice.”
“Yeah,” Dino said, “even Stone gives good advice once in a great while. When it agrees with mine.”
“Listen, fellas,” Herbie said, “if anything bad happens to me, it won’t be an accident. Please remember that.”
Stone and Dino exchanged glances.
“Sure, kid,” Dino said, “we’ll mention it at your funeral.”
52
Shelley Bach leafed through the New York Post. She was bored, horny, and getting annoyed about it. Then a name leapt out at her:
DETECTIVES BACCHETTI amp; MAHON WITNESS MURDERER’S SUICIDE
Shelley read the account of Abney’s demise avidly. She had tried to put Dino out of her mind, but now he was back, and in a good way. She let her mind roam back to their time in the suite at the Hay-Adams Hotel in Washington, then
she reached for her vibrator. Batteries dead. She threw it across the room, got out of bed, and ran a hot tub. She needed to relax.
Later, fresh, with her hair done, she surveyed her new image in the mirror once again. Such a difference! Dino wouldn’t know her from Eve, but he would like her, she was sure of that. She had an idea but dismissed it-too dangerous-then she thought again. She found her prepaid cell phone and called the 19th Precinct. “Lieutenant Bacchetti,” she said to the sergeant who answered.
