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“You’re doing this just to annoy me, aren’t you?”
“I’m doing it out of logic. Annoying you is the cherry on top.”
“Logic dictates that if a mailbox has Eddie’s name on it, he lives in that building.”
“Oh, not just his car? Don’t you think that Eddie could live in one building and park his car in another building?”
“Maybe. I’d sure like to have a couple of NYPD detectives knock on all the doors, though.”
“I’ll call you back.”
—
Eddie Charles Jr. parked his new/old Mercedes E55 in the garage and walked across the street to his apartment. He checked his mailbox to see if the car’s registration certificate had arrived. They had claimed to be short-staffed and promised to mail it. The mailbox was empty. He went back across the street, got into his car, and started it.
—
Joan buzzed Stone. “Dino on one.”
Stone picked up. “Any luck?”
“Yeah, my guys figured out which garage Eddie parks in.”
“Is the car parked there now?”
“No, they saw it drive away when they were walking up the block to the garage.”
“A pity they weren’t a little earlier.”
“Well, you can’t have everything.”
“At least we know he lives on East Sixty-Sixth.”
“Yeah, but there’s no point in knocking on the door when we know he’s not there.”
“They could check the mailboxes.”
“I’ll see if they think that’s a good idea. Call you back.”
Joan walked in. “Any luck with Dino?”
“No. Dino has apparently devoted his career to getting me to put a bullet in my brain.”
“Don’t do it.”
“I have no intention of doing it.”
The phone rang, and Joan picked it up. “Dino?” She handed Stone the phone. “It’s Dino.”
“Hello there,” Stone said.
“Hello, yourself. My guys were checking the mailboxes on East Sixty-Sixth and found one that looked good, but they got a call. A shooting on East Seventy-Second Street. Shootings come first. I’ll call you after they’ve had a chance to open the mailbox.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll wait with bated breath.” He hung up. “Joan, can I borrow your .45 for a minute?”
FIFTY-SIX
Joan sat down in Stone’s office. “No,” she said.
