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“Sounds like fun,” Joan said, propelling Eddie Jr. down the hallway toward the front door.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Stone called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“I have info on Junior.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“If you’d like to lay hands on him, he’s just left my office, headed for either the Athletic Club or the Yale Club.”
“As it happens,” Dino said, “I cannot lay hands on him for the murder charge, because he made bail.”
“I think it may profit you to tail him, because he will almost certainly violate the terms of his bail. He thinks, for instance, that the Hamptons lie in this city.”
“I can’t violate him for leaving town. Get him to violate in the city, and I’m on him.”
“We have only to wait,” Stone said. “It would be handy if one or more of your people were present when he violates.”
“My people have no psychic powers. And I haveinsufficient manpower at my disposal to make up for that shortcoming.”
“Can you handle dinner?”
“I have a hankering for an Italian fish stew,” Dino replied.
“Caravaggio, at seven,” Stone said.
“I’ll race you.” Dino hung up.
Stone pretended to work for another hour, then the phone rang.
“Bridget on one,” Joan said.
Stone punched the button. “Top o’ the morning to you.”
“You have a terrible Irish accent,” she said.
“Thank you for pointing that out.”
“I just wanted to thank you for a lovely dinner and a lovely the rest of it, too.”
“Dino and I are feasting Italian this evening, at Caravaggio. Care to join us?”
“Does this mean I get two rolls in the hay, instead of just one?”
“Not unless we can exchange Dino for a suitable person of the female persuasion,” Stone replied.
“Perhaps we can arrange that on another occasion soon. Meanwhile, I’ll settle for being had just once this evening.”
“I’m still recovering my health from the last one, but I may be able to rise to the occasion.”
“I’ll look forward to exploring that,” she said. “What time?”
“Sevenpm, Seventy-Third, just west of Madison.”
“Done.”
