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“Want to take a stroll and see?” Stone asked.
“What for? A ‘stroll’ in these circumstances just means elbowing people out of the way and pissing them off. Then, if we found him, he wouldn’t come quietly, and we’d cause a scene. But if he did come quietly, we’d lose the duck while we wait for a squad car to pick him up, and I’m hungry.”
“Why don’t you just call the Nineteenth’s homicide squad and tell them there’s a reported sighting of Junior here. Let them figure it out.”
“That’s a thought.”
“Better yet, tell them to wait outside until Junior leaves, so we won’t piss off Georgette by making the bust at her bar.”
“An even better idea,” Dino said, getting out his cell phone. He spoke for a minute or so, then hung up. “They’re on it,” he said. “You want you and me to back them up?”
“Not if the duck comes before then. I confess I’m more interested in the duck than in Eddie Jr. He’s your problem, after all.”
“No, he’s the squad’s problem now. I’m just as interested in the duck as you are.”
“We’ll see the lights when they show up.”
“No, I told them not to use the lights and sirens. There’ll just be an unmarked car or two.”
Stone saw a car stop outside. Four burly men got out and headed for the restaurant.
“They’re here,” Stone said.
“So is the duck,” Dino said, tucking his napkin under his chin.
TWENTY-ONE
They were halfway through the roast duck when Dino looked toward the bar and pointed his knife. “Hey, my guys got Junior!” The four cops were muscling a protesting man toward the front door. The jazz group leaned back, so as not to get knocked down.
“No, they don’t have him.”
“What do you mean? They’re getting him cuffed.”
“It sure looks like him, but trust me, that’s not Junior.”
“Then why are they cuffing him?”
“Go figure. They’ll sort it out at the precinct.”
Georgette appeared at their table. “Dino,” she said. “Your cops are dragging one of my best customers out of here.”
“You mean Eddie Charles Jr.?”
“No, I mean Marv Kelly, my favorite billionaire.”
“Dino,” Stone said, “go save the NYPD fifty million bucks.”
Dino put down his utensils, wiped his greasy face with hisnapkin, and leaned into the crowd, using his elbows. He reached the front door just in time to stop the cops from dragging the billionaire into the street. Stone watched and laughed as Dino flashed his badge and yelled something at the cops. He uncuffed the man, dusting off his shoulders and apologizing profusely, while shouting at the cops. He turned the man around and walked him back to his seat at the bar, then produced his card and made the “anything I can ever do for you, call me” speech. It seemed to be working. He signaled the bartender to bring a double of what the man had been drinking. Then he backed away, still apologizing, and finally made it back to the table.
“Good job,” Stone said.
“It’s your fault,” Dino said. “You didn’t tell me he was the wrong guy.”
“Ididtell you he was the wrong guy, but you were so occupied with the duck that you ignored me until Georgette intervened. You got there just in time to avoid the attention of thePost’s front page tomorrow morning. Chances are, you’ll still make Page Six.” That was the newspaper’s gossip column. “If you’re lucky, you’ll come off as the hero who saved the day. If you’re not lucky, then you’ll be explaining things to the mayor first thing tomorrow morning.”
Dino returned his attention to the duck, only to find that Stone had eaten all the best parts while he was attending to the matter out front. “This is what I get for being a good guy?”
“No, it’s what youdon’tget.”
