Black Dog

Twenty-Nine

Stone also danced with Joan, who was more fleet of foot than he had suspected, and with the mayor’s wife, who liked dancing closer than Stone was comfortable with, in the circumstances.

He caught up with Bridget, who had been dancing with the mayor.

“The mayor doesn’t like Eddie Jr., either. I think he pretended to just to annoy his wife.”

“I wouldn’t want her annoyed with me.”

“You danced with her, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and my crotch got a workout I hadn’t expected.”

“Maybe you should have found a pile of coats on a bed somewhere and taken advantage.”

“Funny, she suggested that, too. Is that something you have in mind?”

“Yes, but on your bed and without the coats.”

“I like the idea. Remind me later.” He squeezed her hand. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just spotted Eddie Jr. on the other side of the room.” They strolled over to where one of the mayor’s security detail was standing, ogling the female dancers.

“You removed Eddie Charles Jr. from the party, did you not?”

“I did, Mr. Barrington.”

“Where did you dispose of the body?”

“Broadly speaking, in the gutter.”

“He has arisen from the gutter and is groping an unsuspecting female guest across the room, due south.”

“I’m on it,” the man said.

Stone held on to his sleeve for a moment. “Not too gently, but don’t leave any marks. It might help if his tuxedo were too soiled for him to rejoin the party. It’s still raining, so that shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Got it,” the man said, then hurried away. Stone watched as Junior disappeared down a hallway, between two large men.

“Is that settled?” Bridget asked

“It is, short of an early death.” He found a sofa and a couple of brandies and sat her down. “Are you beginning to understand that Eddie Jr. would be an undesirable client for Woodside & Weems?”

“I am receiving that signal,” she said.

“Do you think you might be able to explain that convincingly to your managing partner?”

“What words should I choose?”

“The phrase ‘ticking time bomb’ comes to mind,” Stone said. “And you might mention that he is the only suspect in the murder of his stepmother.”

“My problem is that I will have failed to use him to make rain. Warning them off isn’t all that rewarding.”

“To have saved your firm from a debacle ought to add some luster to your reputation. Don’t worry, Eddie will prove your case. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I hope he hurries up,” Bridget replied.

The cop reappeared at Stone’s elbow. “Mission accomplished, I believe. It’s storming out there, and the subject didn’t have a raincoat or an umbrella, and he’s missing a shoe. And, in the words of the immortal Johnny Mercer, ‘no cabs to be had out there.’ ”

Stone tucked two hundreds into the cop’s jacket pocket. “You fellas have a few on me,” he said.

“At an appropriate moment,” the cop replied.

“Have we tripped the light fantastic enough?” Stone asked Bridget.

“I certainly have.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

They took the elevator down to the garage where Fred and the Bentley were waiting and headed down Fifth Avenue. They had just turned the corner when Bridget tugged at Stone’s sleeve. “Look,” she said, nodding toward the sidewalk.

Stone looked. Standing in the gutter was Junior, looking very much like a drowned rat, his thumb out to passing cars. “I don’t think that even the kindest-hearted person would want someone that wet in his automobile,” he said.

“Oh, it’s not that long a walk to the Athletic Club.”

“A lot farther to the Yale Club,” Stone said.