Dirty Work

7

Stone walked into the courtroom and looked around. He saw Carpenter sitting in the second row, apparently rapt, and he kept looking until he found his man, waiting with a prisoner in an orange jumpsuit who was about to be arraigned.

Tony Levy was short, stocky, and crafty. He earned his living as a lawyer by hanging around the courts, picking up cases on the fly. Stone had met him half a dozen times in the courthouse, and he was perfect for tonight’s purpose. He reached across the railing and tapped Levy on the shoulder.

“Hey, Stone,” Levy said, smiling and offering his hand. “I haven’t seen you down here for a while.”

“I try to stay uptown,” Stone said. “I’ve got a case for you. Can you talk?”

Levy turned back to his client, who was sporting a full set of restraints. “Don’t go anywhere for a minute,” he said, then he waved Stone to the side of the courtroom and led him through a door into a small conference room. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Nephew of a friend of mine—you know Bob Cantor?”

“Ex-cop? Yeah, I had him on the witness stand a few times.”

“His nephew, name of Herbert Fisher, is downstairs awaiting arraignment on charges of man two, B and E, and attempted burglary.”

“Nice,” Levy said.

“He was apparently taking some bedroom shots for a divorce case, and he fell through a skylight and onto a guy who was getting a very thorough massage from a young lady.”

“Jesus!”

“Right. Trouble is, when Herbie came to, the guy was dead.”

“And that’s the man two?”

“Right, and it sounds wrong because Herbie fell on his legs. The cops came and took him away. I can work on reducing the charges later, but right now I just want him bailed. I’ll call Irving Newman and arrange that, so his man in the court will be ready for you.”

“Okay.”

“Herbie is twenty-two, no priors, has a job and an apartment. I figure twenty-five grand for bail, but I’ll be prepared for more, if necessary.”

“Okay, seems straightforward. A grand will buy me.”

“I’ll send you cash by messenger tomorrow,” Stone said. “I don’t want my name on any paper connected with this. In fact, I don’t want to be associated with it in any way. Understand?”

“I read you loud and clear, Stone. I guess the partners at Woodman and Weld would frown on Herbie’s sort of activity.”

“They like me to stay out of night court, unless it’s their client,” Stone replied. “So I’m getting out of here now. Call me on my cell if there are any problems you can’t deal with. The kid is scared silly, and he needs to sleep in his bed tonight.”

“I’ll do everything but tuck him in,” Levy said.

Stone walked to where Carpenter was sitting, tapped her on the shoulder, and beckoned her to follow.

“Enjoy yourself?” he asked when they were outside the courtroom in the corridor.

“It’s fascinating,” she said. “When does your case come up?”

“It’s not my case. I’m just doing a favor for a friend. Another lawyer will represent the guy.” He dug out his cell phone and dialed a number. “Excuse me for a minute,” he said.

“Hello?” The voice didn’t sound sleepy. Irving Newman, Stone’s favorite bail bondsman, was accustomed to being awakened in the night.

“Irving, it’s Stone Barrington.”

“Stone, you okay? What’d they charge you with?”

“Thanks, Irving, I’m fine, and it’s not me,” Stone said, chuckling. “I’m down at night court. You know Bob Cantor?”

“Ex-cop?”

“Yeah. His nephew, one Herbert Fisher, is coming up tonight on man two, B and E, and attempted burglary. I figure bail will be twenty-five, but let’s be ready with more, just in case.”

“I’ll call my guy in court,” Irving said. “You putting up your house?” This was Irving’s idea of a joke.

“Yeah, sure, Irving. Call my secretary in the morning, and she’ll messenger you twenty-five hundred in cash. We never talked, okay?”

“Of course not. Who the hell is this, anyway?” Irving hung up.

Stone closed his phone and tucked it away. He took Carpenter’s arm and led her from the courthouse to his waiting car.

“So, what’s this all about, and why wouldn’t you tell me on the way down?” Carpenter asked.

“It’s strictly need-to-know,” Stone said. “You know about that in your trade, right?”

“Well, I already know your client’s name and the charges, don’t I? And Irving is arranging bail.”

“Herbie is not my client. I’m just doing a favor for a friend.”

“Somehow, I think the favor extends back to earlier in the evening,” Carpenter said. “You were looking at your watch all night, and you were clearly expecting that phone call, but not what you heard.”

Stone pointed at the driver and put a finger to his lips.

“All right,” she said. “When we get home. I’m not going to bed with you until I know all.”

Carpenter stood at the foot of the bed, her robe dangling invitingly open, revealing a slim, well-buffed body. “So tell me the whole story.”

Stone stared, and he was very ready for her. “Oh, come to bed,” he groaned.

She tied the robe firmly. “Not until I hear it.”

“This is blackmail,” Stone said.

“No, it’s extortion. As a lawyer, you should know the difference.”

“Oh, all right,” Stone said. “I arranged for a photographer to take dirty pictures of a married man and an unmarried lady in compromising positions. The photographer got too enthusiastic and fell through a skylight onto the man, who somehow died. The cops came and took the photographer away.”

Carpenter looked very interested. “Who was the dead man?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“It’ll be in the papers tomorrow, Stone.”

“Oh, all right. It was a compatriot of yours, one Lawrence Fortescue, married to a sometime client of mine.”

Her face became expressionless. “How dead is he?”

“All the way,” Stone replied. “Herbie couldn’t understand it, because he fell on the guy’s legs. No reason for him to be dead. Something else funny, a bunch of apparent cops in plain clothes showed up in no time at all, and at least one of them had a British accent, according to Herbie, who learned everything he knows about British accents watching Brit cop shows on TV.”

“What happened to the woman involved?”

“Funny, I don’t know,” Stone said. “Herbie was out for a short time. She must have departed the premises, which, given the circumstances, was a wise move.”

“I need to use the phone in the next room,” Carpenter said. “And don’t you dare listen in.”

“Aren’t you coming to bed?”

“In a minute,” she replied, opening the door. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Stone watched the light on the phone come on and resisted the temptation to listen in. He was still watching the light ten minutes later, when he fell asleep.