Unnatural Acts

13

Dino looked morosely around P.J. Clarke’s. “I don’t think I can have dinner here every night,” he said. “There are too many people I don’t know.”

“I know how you feel,” Stone said, enjoying his second meal of the day at Clarke’s. “Maybe after we’ve been coming here as long as we went to Elaine’s, it’ll be better.”

“Do we have to wait that long?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“How about ‘21’?” Dino asked.

“I was in there the other night. Too many of the people were kids in their twenties who shouldn’t be able to afford ‘21.’”

“You put your finger on it,” Dino said. “Them and rich people from out of town. I liked it better in the old days.”

“Everything was better in the old days,” Stone agreed.

“We sound like a couple of codgers,” Dino said.

“Speak for yourself, pal. I’m not in codgerdom yet.”

“Then why are we talking about the old days?”

“They weren’t the old days, until Elaine died. Now, suddenly, they’re the old days.”

“That’s how codgerdom happens,” Dino pointed out. “One day, you’re just a regular guy, having dinner three times a week at his favorite joint, then the next day the joint closes, and wham! You’re a codger. You’ve got all of Arrington’s money now,” Dino said. “Why didn’t you buy Elaine’s?”

“The restaurant business is a kind of hell,” Stone replied. “Either you don’t have a social life, because you’re there all the time, or you aren’t there all the time and the employees steal you blind. And even if I had bought it, I’m not Elaine.”

“Nobody is,” Dino agreed.

The headwaiter brought two attractive women into the back room and seated them next to Stone and Dino. Neither was wearing a wedding ring.

“Did you tip that guy?” Dino whispered.

“No, but I’m going to.”

“Evening, ladies,” Dino said to the two. “Will you join us for a drink?”

The two women exchanged glances. “Thanks,” one of them said, “but we’ll stay on our own. We’ll buy you a drink, though.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve had in this millennium,” Dino said. He introduced himself and Stone. The women were named Rita and Marla.

The drinks came, and Dino raised his glass. “To chance meetings,” he said. “If you’re having dinner, let’s pull our tables together.”

The women agreed, and they managed to make two tables one.

“What do you gentlemen do?” Rita asked.

“I’m a lieutenant of the NYPD,” Dino said. “Stone is only a lawyer.”

“I was a detective with the NYPD,” Stone said, “when I was too young to know better.”

“How does one go from being a detective to being a lawyer?” Marla asked.

“One takes the bar exam,” Stone said. “I had gone to NYU Law, but then became a cop.”

“For how long?”

“Fourteen years.”

“And what law firm do you practice with?” Marla asked.

“Woodman and Weld.”

“Ah,” she said, looking impressed. “My late father was a client there.”

“He sounds like a wonderful human being,” Stone said.

She laughed.

“What do you do, Marla?”

“I’m a choreographer and a director in the theater. Rita is starring in one of my shows, opening next week.”

“Not exactly starring,” Rita said, “but I’m the lead dancer.”

“To me,” Marla said, “dancers are always the stars. I used to be one myself.”

“What made you give it up?” Stone asked.

“You don’t give up dancing,” she replied. “Dancing gives you up. It shouts in your ear, ‘YOU’RE TOO OLD FOR THIS STUFF,’ and it’s always right. Then it kicks you in the knee, for emphasis.”

“I haven’t heard that call yet,” Rita said.

“That’s because you’re ten years younger than me,” Marla laughed. “You’ll hear it soon enough.”

They ordered dinner and talked some more. Rita’s last name was Cara, and Marla’s, Rocker.

“As in ‘off one’s rocker,’” Marla said.

“So,” Rita asked, “what did you two guys do today?”

“I introduced a big client to a young attorney over lunch,” Stone said. “They got on beautifully.”

“I sent a SWAT team out to arrest a murderer,” Dino said.

The women looked impressed.

“It’s not as exciting as Dino makes it sound,” Stone said. “He means he signed a piece of paper.”

“How long have you two known each other?” Marla asked.

“We were partners when we first made detective,” Dino said. “I taught him everything he used to know.”

After dinner, they walked out onto Third Avenue.

“Which way are you going?” Stone asked.

“Uptown for me,” Rita said.

“I’ll drop you,” Dino said, “or vice versa.”

“Okay.” A cab pulled up, then the two drove away.

“Which way are you going?” Stone asked.

“I live in Turtle Bay,” she said.

“What a coincidence-so do I.”

They discovered that they lived across the garden from each other.

“Will you stop by for a drink?” Stone asked.

“Perhaps another time,” Marla replied. She gave him a card, and he gave her his, then he hailed a cab and dropped her off at home.

“May I go out your back door?” Stone asked.

“Sure, as long as you don’t tarry,” Marla said. “I had a rough day’s rehearsal.” She let him into the house and led him through the living room, which was adorned with theater posters and photographs, and to the kitchen door. “There you are,” she said, opening the door for him.

“I’m right over there,” Stone said, pointing.

“Is there a Mrs. Barrington in residence?”

“I’m a widower,” he replied.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. What time do you normally finish rehearsals?”

“Six, if I’m lucky. Two a.m., if I’m not.”

“On the off chance that you finish fairly early tomorrow night, would you like to come over for dinner?”

“Let me call you late in the afternoon,” she said, “when I have a sense of how great the disaster is.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek and stepped out into her rear garden, then into the common garden.

It was a perfect night, and Stone had the feeling the following evening might be even better.