Black Dog

Twenty-Six

They dined on pâté Diana and moussaka, Greek dishes that Helene’s mother had taught her, and apple tart for dessert. They moved to the sofa for coffee and cognac, and Stone thought they might as well get work out of the way as a subject.

“How did you come to have Edwin Charles Jr. as a client?”

“I thought that might come up.”

“Care to answer the question?”

“I think I told you I had met him.”

“Yes. Is that when he hired you?”

“No, someone else you don’t know told him that I had joined Woodside & Weems, and he got somebody to call me. The firm was fine with me representing him. And they’ve promised that if I do a good job, they might broaden my role at the firm.”

“Let me hazard a guess: the firm knew that his stepmother, Annetta Charles, had dispensed with their services, and were replaced by Woodman & Weld, under my supervision.”

“I believe that came up,” she said.

“And someone suggested to you that, if you do a good job handling Junior, then they might take a step toward regaining his legal representation.”

“That might have been mentioned, in passing.”

“I’ll bet. Well, you should know that I not only represent the estates of Edwin Sr. and Annetta, but that I am their executor, as well. Which means that, in order for Woodside & Weems to pry their way back into that particular piece of business, they would have to do such a convincing job, because, as executor, I would have to fire myself from the legal representation.”

“I don’t think it was put to me quite that way.”

“I think I can promise you that will not happen.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now there’s no further reason for us to discuss work, is there? At least, until Eddie Jr. goes to trial.”

“I suppose not.”

“Good,” Stone said. “Now, can I interest you in a more carnal subject?” He rubbed a knuckle lightly over a nipple and got a positive response.

“Oooh,” she said. “That is an unfair tactic.”

“I want you to know that both my nipples are available to you. Fair enough?”

She pinched one of his lightly. “Is this one fully operational?” she asked.

“They both are, and at your disposal.”

“Well, then,” she said.

There was a pause in the action while Fred took away their dishes, then an enthusiastic resumption. They could not bring themselves to leave the sofa, but their clothing did.

Much later, Bridget sat up. “I have an early meeting tomorrow morning,” she said. “I should go.”

“I wouldn’t eject you into the storm,” Stone said. “Just listen to that rain. We could move to the master suite, where I possess an alarm clock.”

“I guess that will have to do. Anyway, I have a change of clothes in my bag.”

“Clever girl,” Stone said, picking up the bag and leading her upstairs, where the action resumed.

The next morning, Stone found Joan waiting in his office when he came downstairs. “Good morning,” he said.

“Maybe not,” Joan replied. “Eddie Jr. is out on bail.”

“I heard.”

“And he’s waiting outside to see you.”

“Kindly throw him out into the street.”

“I heard that,” a voice said. Stone looked up to find Eddie Jr. standing in the doorway.

“Oh, good. Then Joan won’t have to explain it to you.”

“I’m here about my trust.”

That was legitimate business, Stone supposed. “Go ahead.”

“Why is it I can get two million dollars from my trust as bail, but I can’t get a hundred thousand for clothes and other necessities.”

“Because the two million is in the hands of the court, not yours, and you can’t spend it. By the way, have you read the conditions of your bail?”

“They’re in my pocket.”

“Yes, but have you read them?”

“It’s on my list of things to do.”

“Well, you’d better move it to the top of your list. Because if you violate one of them, even a little, like leaving New York City, you will be arrested and your two million will vanish in a puff of smoke. And by the way, the Hamptons are not located in New York City.”

“That seems extreme.”

“The court thinks of them as extremely reasonable. And if you violate that or any other of the rules, I will, as an officer of the court, be required to report it to the judge, who will not be understanding.”

“You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”

“Most certainly.”

“Eddie,” Joan said, “why don’t you go lay your head wherever you’re laying your head these days. After, of course, a shower and a scrub.”

“I didn’t like the plumbing facilities in jail,” Eddie explained, “nor the company.”

“Joan,” Stone said. “If he’s not in the street within thirty seconds, you have my permission, as an officer of the court, to shoot him.”

“Sounds like fun,” Joan said, propelling Eddie Jr. down the hallway toward the front door.