Kisser

32

THE POLICE OFFICER SET a shirt-sized box on Stone’s desk. “Take off your shirt,” he commanded.

“Go fuck yourself and Brian Doyle, too,” Stone replied politely.

The man fished an envelope from a pocket and handed it to Stone. The return address in the corner belonged to the police commissioner. “Read this,” he said.

“I’m not touching that,” Stone replied.

The man tore open the envelope and extracted a sheet of paper. “I’ll read it to you,” he said.

“I’m not listening,” Stone replied, placing his fingers in his ears.

“Memo to personnel division!” the officer shouted. “ ‘Detective Second Grade Stone Barrington, retired, is hereby restored to active duty in the First Precinct under the command of Lieutenant Brian Doyle until further notice. Signed, et cetera, et cetera.’ Got it?”

“Stop shouting,” Stone said, removing his fingers from his ears. “I can hear you.”

The officer dug into another pocket and came out with a wallet containing a detective’s shield and an ID card with a very old photograph of Stone. “This is for you. Now take off your shirt. Orders from Lieutenant Doyle.”

“The police commissioner can’t draft somebody into the NYPD,” Stone said.

“He can, if you’re a retired cop on a pension,” the officer said. “Read your retirement papers.”

“Do they really say that?” Stone asked.

“Read ’ em yourself. Now take off your shirt, or I’ll tear it off you.”

Stone said a bad word and stood up, unbuttoning his shirt. “What’s in the box?” he asked.

“The latest in fashion,” the cop said, opening the box and holding up a gray undergarment. “They say it’ll stop anything that doesn’t have an armor-piercing tip.”

Stone fingered the garment. “Feels rough.”

“I’ll be gentle,” the cop said. “Turn around.”

Stone turned, and the man slipped the thing on him. “Zip it up,” he said.

The garment overlapped, like a double-breasted jacket, giving double protection for most of the important internal organs.

“A perfect fit,” the cop said. “You’ll take it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Stone said.

“Now sit down; I’ve got to fit you with the earpiece.”

“The what?”

The cop held out his hand, and a small bit of soft plastic lay in his palm with a wire protruding from it.

“People will be able to see that,” Stone said. “Bad people.”

“Nah,” the cop said. “It fits too far down in your ear canal. The wire has a hook on the end; that’s how you get it out: You hook the end of the wire in right here and just pull it out. My advice is, don’t lose the wire.” He turned Stone’s head to one side, stuck the device into his right ear, removed the hook, and handed it to Stone.

“How do you turn it on?”

“It’s on all the time. The battery is good for ten days.”

“What do you do after ten days?”

“If you’re still alive, I’ll bring you a new one.”

“Joan!” Stone shouted. “Bring me your makeup mirror!”

Joan came into the room with the mirror and handed it to him. “Cute underwear,” she said.

“Oh, shut up.” Stone held the mirror in position to look at his ear. “Can you see anything in my ear?”

She took back the mirror. “Yeah, daylight from the other side.” She went back to her office.

“Nice lady,” the cop said.

“Not always,” Stone replied. “Take my advice and stay away from her.”

“I heard that!” Joan yelled from her office.

“They heard it downtown,” the cop said, tapping his ear. He pulled out a vibrating cell phone. “Yeah? Good deal.” He closed the phone. “Like I said, they heard that downtown.”

“How do I get the fucking thing out?” Stone asked.

“Use the little wire with the little hook on the end.”

Stone began rooting around in his ear with the wire. “What am I supposed to hook it onto?”

“There’s a little plastic loop. I showed you, remember?”

Stone made contact and extracted the earpiece.

“It’s a good idea to wear it awhile, get used to it,” the cop said. He took the thing from Stone and reinserted it. “By the way, if you put a phone to that ear, downtown can hear both ends of the conversation, and they can speak to you.”

“That’s just great,” Stone said without enthusiasm. “It’s time for you to go away now.”

“Enjoy your badge, vest, and bug,” the man said, and with a little wave, he left.

Joan came back into the office. “What’s in your ear?” she asked.

“A bug.”

“Put your head on your desk; I’ll pour some water into your ear, and it’ll float out.”

“Not that kind of bug,” Stone said.

“Oh, you’re wired?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What’s the badge?” She picked up the commissioner’s letter and read it, then giggled. “You’re a cop again? How can you afford to pay me?”

“It isn’t funny,” Stone said. “Brian Doyle is trying to get me killed.”

“What did you do to Brian Doyle?”

“Nothing much. I just handed him a very nice bust on a platter, and now he’s pissed off because I made more work for him, so he did this to me.”

“This is so much more fun than working in an actual law firm,” Joan said.

“This is an actual law firm,” Stone replied.

“If you say so,” Joan said, flouncing back to her office.

“Don’t flounce,” Stone called down the hall after her.

“I’ll flounce if I want to,” she called back. “It’s not like this is an actual law firm.”

Stone tidied his desk, took off the vest, and put his shirt on. The phone rang. He didn’t wait for Joan to answer it; he just picked the phone up. “Hello?”

“It’s Dino. Dinner?”

“Sure. See you there.”

Another voice spoke on the line. “You boys have a nice evening, now.”

“What was that?” Dino asked.

“I’ll explain later. Good-bye-and go fuck yourself.”

“What?” Dino said.

“That last part was for the other guy on the line.”

“Oh.”

Stone hung up and started looking for the little wire with the hook.