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“I have not.”
“Then will you join me in the dining room for a repast?”
“Thank you, yes. I was just getting hungry when your elbow rose to my rescue.”
He led her to the dining room, where the headwaiter gave him his usual table, even though Dino was absent. “I recommend the beef,” he said.
“Sold. I’d like my repast medium rare, please.”
Stone ordered steaks and a bottle of the Pine Ridge Cabernet.
Sandy tasted it. “Ah, deep and dark,” she said.
“My first requirement of a Cabernet is that I be unable to see through it.”
She held her glass to the light. “Passed,” she said.
As she took her first sip, a man who was not the waiter appeared at her elbow.
“I see you didn’t bother to wait,” he said.
“Au contraire,”she replied. “I waited for an hour. That’s the point at which I consider myself stood up.”
“Sandy,” Stone said, “if you wish to revert to your previous plan, I will try to get over it.”
“I do not wish to revert,” she replied, taking a larger sip of her wine.
“Then it remains for me to invite your acquaintance to join us,” he said. “I can have the waiter bring us another chair. My name is Stone Barrington,” he said, extending a hand.
“I’m not interested in your name,” the man said, “or another chair. What I’d like is for you to leave, and I’ll take your seat.”
“Sandy,” Stone said, “what is your wish?”
“I wish my acquaintance to dematerialize,” she said, “and reconstitute himself somewhere else.”
“I think that’s very plain,” Stone said to the man. “But I’ll translate for you: the lady wishes you to go away.”
The waiter appeared with their steaks, elbowed the man out of the way, and served them.
“Now,” Stone said to the man. “It remains only for you to leave us in peace.”
“Perhaps you’d like to step out onto the sidewalk,” he said, indicating the side door to the street.
“Oh, Bryce,” Sandy said, “really now. I’ve had enough of you.” She made a shooing motion. “Scat.”
“Would you like me to translate that?” Stone asked.
“I’ve issued you an invitation,” the man said to Stone.
“Declined,” Stone replied. He reached into his coat pocket and produced his NYPD badge. “Would you like the assistance of some gentlemen in blue? There are two parked outside in a police cruiser.”
That gave him pause. “Another time,” Bryce said, and left.
“His full name is Bryce Newcomb,” Sandy said, “in case you’d like to hunt him down and thrash him later.”
“I will not devote a single brain cell to remembering that name,” Stone replied, “nor an ounce of energy to thrashing him.”
“I didn’t make you for a cop.”
