Dirt

Chapter 13

Arnie Millman waddled into Stone’s office and plopped into a chair. Arnie had been retired from the force for fifteen years, and he looked like half a million elderly Jewish retirees in New York City, making him ideal for surveillance.

“You putting on weight, Arnie?” Stone asked.

“Always. It’s my wife’s cheesecake; I can’t help myself.”

“You up for a little work?”

“Why not? The money I can use.”

Stone handed him a sheet of paper. “Two people: Helen Charlson and Barry White. They both work for a client of mine, a gossip columnist type, and some confidential information is leaking out of the client’s office. The girl has a boyfriend, I’m told, and the guy is gay; don’t know who he sees. I want you to find out who their principal social contacts are and run brief checks on those people – employment particularly. I’m especially interested in anybody working in the media, especially entertainment.”

“When you need it?” Arnie asked, making notes.

“Soonest; a week, outside.”

Arnie nodded. “You want me to wire them?”

“Arnie, I’ve still got a license to practice law, and I want to keep it.”

“Stone, you know I’d never let it get back to you. I’m just a meddlesome old man who knows a lot of cops who wouldn’t turn him in for something like that.”

“I’ll leave it to you, then, but we never talked about it.”

“Of course not.”

“I’d like to know whether either of them has a lot of debt, is very short of money, or has been spending beyond his or her means, especially in cash. Let’s extend that to their lovers, as well.”

“If you want all this that fast, I’m going to need to bring in a couple guys.”

“As long as they never hear of me.”

“Budget?”

“Ample, but not open-ended.”

“Gotcha.” Arnie got up and sauntered out of the office.

Stone’s secretary buzzed him. “Line one, here come de judge.”

Stone picked up the phone. “Your Honor, how are you?”

“So-so,” she replied. “Can I buy you lunch today?”

“Sure. Downtown?”

“Let’s do it in your neighborhood; I’d just as soon not be seen together around the courthouse.”

“The Box Tree at twelve-thirty?”

“Good.”

“I’ll book.”

The Box Tree was a dark, cozy restaurant not far from Stone’s house. He got there first and ordered half a bottle of wine. It was all the two of them would drink at lunch.

She came in five minutes later and, once again, he thought how attractive she was – small, blond, pretty, and very fit. He sought her lips, but she offered her cheek. Uh-oh, he thought. “How are you, Sara?”

“I’m all right.”

He hadn’t seen her for a week, a long time for them. They usually spent two or three nights a week together. “You look wonderful today.” He poured her a glass of wine and waved at a waiter, who brought menus.

“I’ll just have the wine,” she said. “I can’t really stay for lunch.”

“You came all the way uptown for a glass of wine?”

She looked him in the eye. “It hasn’t been going well, Stone, you and I.”

“Funny, I thought it was going extremely well,” he replied.

“You would think that,” she said. “Fact is, I don’t like sneaking around so the other lawyers I deal with won’t know; I don’t like recusing myself from your cases and not being able to say why; and good sex isn’t enough.”

“I thought we had more going than sex,” he said.

“I thought so, too, for a while, but I was wrong. We meet each other’s needs, to a point, and that point ends right after sex.”

“You’ve met somebody, haven’t you?”

She shrugged.

“Haven’t you?”

“All right, I have; actually, it’s somebody I’ve known for a long time but am getting to know better.”

“It’s the real thing?”

“I don’t know about that yet. It might be, if I can devote some time to it.”

Stone nodded. “And I’m using up a lot of time.”

“You’re using up a lot of me, Stone, and I’m not getting enough back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry; you’ve always been straight with me. I know you don’t have any interest in marriage, and I thought that was okay, but it’s just not. I need something in my life with a future. I’m thirty-four, and I want kids before I’m forty.”

“I can understand that,” Stone said into his wine glass.

“Not really,” she said. “It’s just not something you can empathize with. You’re a sweet man, Stone, in lots of ways, but deep down inside you’re very… contained. I almost said cold, but that would be a bum rap. You’re just not… easy to reach. I’m probably not the first woman to tell you something like that.”

Stone shrugged. He didn’t want to confirm it, but she was right. “So, who’s the guy?”

“Tom Bill.”

“Judge Thomas Bill?”

“Right. Don’t worry, I won’t ever tell him about us. He’s the jealous type, and he could make your life miserable in court.”

“That he could. What about you? Are you going to make my life miserable?”

“Not in court,” she said, allowing herself a small smile. “You’ll be miserable later, when you figure out what you’ve lost.”

“I’m already miserable,” he said.

“Not really, but you will be. That’ll be my little revenge for your not taking me seriously.”

“I always took you seriously.”

“Not seriously enough.” She shrugged. “Your loss.”

“My loss,” he agreed.

She sighed. “Well, that’s about it, I guess.”

“Sure you don’t want some lunch?”

“I’m due back in court at two; I’d better get going.” She stood up.

He stood up with her, at a loss for words.

“See you in court,” she said, and left.

Stone sat quietly, staring at the tablecloth.

A waiter approached. “The lady won’t be lunching?” he asked.

“The lady won’t be lunching.”

“And what would you like, Mr. Barrington?”

“Sometimes I wonder that myself,” Stone replied.