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There was dead silence at the other end of the line.
“Goodbye, Bill. I won’t be coming back to the office today.” Herbie hung up.
Mike Freeman was laughing. “Something else I like about you, Herbie-you have an enormous set of brass balls.”
9
Stone and Dino met at P.J. Clarke’s bar and had their usual drinks, Knob Creek bourbon for Stone and Johnnie Walker Black Label scotch for Dino. Dino looked troubled.
“What’s the matter, pal, are you still grieving for Elaine’s?”
“Well, yes,” Dino replied, “but that’s not what’s bothering me now.”
“What is?”
“I’ve had another call from Shelley Bach,” Dino said.
“What did she have to say for herself?”
“She has nothing to say for herself,” Dino replied. “That’s the problem. She doesn’t seem to think she’s done anything wrong.”
“Even after murdering five people?”
“Even after that.”
“There’s a word for that: sociopath. Someone without a conscience.”
“I know that,” Dino said testily.
“Next time, just hang up on her.”
“Trouble is, I didn’t,” Dino said.
“How long did you talk?”
“Not long. She wanted to come over to my place.”
“She may be a sociopath, but she’s not crazy. Why would she want to risk that?”
“Maybe because she believed I wouldn’t turn her in.”
Stone cleared his throat of the bourbon he had nearly inhaled. “Why would she believe that?”
“Because I didn’t turn her in.”
“Wait a minute, Dino, are you saying that she came to your apartment?”
Dino just nodded.
“And you didn’t call anybody? Nine-one-one, the FBI, anybody?”
Dino shook his head.
“Listen to me, pal, you need to take a hike to the nearest post office and take a look at the ten-most-wanted list. You won’t have any trouble finding her there, she’s right at the top.”
“You think I don’t know that, Stone?”
“I know you, Dino, and I know that you are all cop, that you would turn in your mother if she was wanted for five murders.”
