Black Dog

Thirty-One

When Stone returned to his office, Joan braced him. “How did that go?”

“Well, I’ve met somebody else who detests Junior,” Stone said. “And he has a granddaughter who thinks Eddie is cute.”

“Uh-oh. What was your solution to that problem?”

“I didn’t offer him one.”

“Pity. The judge’s name would have looked good on your client list.”

“I think the judge wants the matter handled without his fingerprints on it.”

“You mean, he wants Eddie bumped off?”

“No, but I think it would cheer him up to see such a crime on the front page of a newspaper.”

The phone rang, and Joan answered. “Dino for you on one.”

“Morning, Commissioner.”

“Pretty good party last night, huh?”

“Better than pretty good.”

“Dinner at Clarke’s, seven?”

“Sold. See you there.” They both hung up.

Stone found Dino at the bar at Clarke’s, halfway through his first Scotch.

“Did you run into Judge Fitzroy Barron at the party last night?” Dino asked.

“Yes, but I didn’t remember, until he called this morning and invited — well, practically ordered that I show up at his apartment.”

“Did you?”

“Of course. A lawyer doesn’t turn down a meet with a former Supreme Court justice.”

“What did he want with you?”

“He seemed to want me to strangle Eddie Charles Jr. while he watched.”

“Well, to know Junior is to hate his guts. What is Barron’s beef with him?”

“He’s been paying too much attention to the judge’s granddaughter, who is encouraging the attention.”

“Eddie has a real gift for getting up people’s noses, doesn’t he?”

“So far, I haven’t met anyone who enjoys his company. Makes me wonder about the granddaughter.”

“How many times did you have him thrown out of the party last night?”

“Only twice. The second one stuck. We saw him trying to hitchhike down Fifth Avenue when we left, and he was missing a shoe.”

“Not a night for hitchhiking.”

“Not even if you have a raincoat and an umbrella. And two shoes.”

“Do you think the kid is some kind of mental case?”

“That’s a good possibility.”

“Why don’t you send him to a good shrink?”

“I don’t think a shrink could handle Eddie any better than anybody else,” Stone said. “He’d probably just toss him out a window during their first session.”

“Any chance of getting him committed?”

Stone shook his head. “I think he can feign sanity long enough to avoid a straitjacket.”

“No custodial care, huh?”

“You have a better chance of arranging that than I do,” Stone said. “Convict the son of a bitch for murder one and let the State of New York prison system deal with him.”

“Nah, lawyers like you will keep him on the street.”

“You know, Fitzroy Barron all but invited me to have the kid professionally hit.”

“In so many words?”

“Of course not, dummy. Don’t you think he’s lawyer enough to suggest that without suggesting that?”

“I suppose he must be.”

“Trust me. I was a little annoyed that he would pick me to arrange it. He’d apparently heard some stories about how I handled things for Woodman & Weld in my early days there.”

“Were you arranging a lot of hits then?”

“Of course not. I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Well, it’s interesting to think that old Fitz would think you have.”

“Yeah, I wonder who he’s been talking to.” He looked at Dino narrowly.

“Don’t point that thing at me!” Dino protested. “I don’t even know Judge Barron, apart from shaking his hand last night.”

“He should have talked to you,” Stone said. “You probably know a dozen cops who would take that contract.”

“No, I got rid of those sorts of cops early in my reign.”

“Your reign? You think they look upon you as a king?”

“They’d fucking well better, unless they want to serve out their twenty years in uniform in the nether reaches of the Bronx.”

The maître d’ caught Stone’s eye and motioned him toward the back room, where he had a good table for them. They ordered steaks, as usual, and a decent bottle of red.

“Did you find a murder weapon in the Charles case?” Stone asked Dino.

“Funny you should mention that,” Dino said. “No, as it happens.”

“Has Eddie Jr. got a firearm registered in his name?”

“You don’t think we would have checked?”

“Can I take that as a no?”

“Yes,” Dino replied.

“What was the weapon?”

“A .38.”

“Did you get a good slug out of Annetta?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“Did you search Eddie’s digs?”

“At the Yale Club? Of course.”

“How about at the Athletic Club?”

“Damn it, we only searched the one.”

“Well, he’s been sleeping on and off at both.”

“Well, shit,” Dino said, getting out his phone and delivering some terse instructions about a search warrant.