Class Act

29

They were given a corner table, with Tara Wilkes between them.

“What’s good?” she asked, reading the menu off the wall.

“Whatever sounds good,” Stone said, “the beef, particularly.”

They all ordered strip steaks, and Stone ordered a good cabernet.

“I’m sorry if Stone’s a little quiet,” Dino said to Tara. “He just got some bad news.”

“Ignore him,” Stone said. “It’s just bad news in Dino’s head.”

“Did I mention that the shooter was a woman?” Dino asked.

“Why would you? It’s irrelevant.”

“If you say so.”

“ ‘Shooter’?” Tara asked. “Was somebody shot?”

“A bookie named Tiny, down in Little Italy,” Dino replied. “You didn’t know him, did you?”

“Dino,” Stone said, “I’m about to spill a lot of wine on you. You’ll have to pay Madame Paulette a fortune to get the stains out.”

“I’m sorry,” Dino said, holding up both hands in surrender. “Not a fit discussion over dinner.”

Tara looked at Stone. “How is that bad news for you?”

“It isn’t. In fact, I think the world is a better place without him. Gamblers everywhere are rejoicing.”

“Are you a gambler, Stone?” she asked.

“Not even on sure things,” he replied. “Especially not on sure things.”

“A man after my own heart,” she said.

“My experience with gambling is that I go to a casino with Dino, buy a hundred bucks’ worth of chips, then I put them on a table, and somebody takes them away. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Stone is not lying about his skills as a gambler,” Dino said. “Anything else, well...” He waggled a hand back and forth.

“Are you a liar, Stone?” Tara asked.

“Only when paying Dino compliments,” Stone said. “Dino, didn’t I hear your phone ringing? The one you always have to answer, then go see about something?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Dino said innocently.

“Dino is a police officer,” Stone said to Tara. “His hearing is a little on the selective side.”

“You two are a riot.”

“That’s what everybody says,” Dino chimed in.

“Dino’s work is what makes him so entertaining, with lines like ‘two in the head.’ It’s one of his best. Where are you from, Tara?”

“I’m from a small town in Georgia called Delano.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Dino said. “What do you do, Tara?”

“I design handbags,” she said.

“I’ll bet you’ve got a huge wardrobe,” Dino said.

“Well, I’ve got a lot of handbags.”

“You deserved that, Dino,” Stone said.

“Do you have a brand name?” Dino asked.

“Yes. ‘Tara.’ ”

Stone burst out laughing.

“I know that name,” Dino said. “My wife has some handbags with that name on them.”

“Well, let me know when her next birthday is, and I’ll give you a deal on something in alligator. That’s my specialty.” She produced cards and handed one to each of them. They responded in kind.

“My goodness,” Tara said, reading Dino’s. “You are a policeman, aren’t you? You’re the commissioner!”

“I cannot deny it.”

“As I said, his work is the source of all his brilliant dinner-table conversation,” Stone said. “Any gory sex crimes today, Dino?”

“Nothing good enough for the dinner table.”

“What a disappointment,” Stone said.

“Are you two sure you’re not married?” Tara asked.

“You’re not the first to ask,” Stone said. “If we were, we’d be divorced.”

“Well, if you keep up this banter I’m going to have to spank one of you and send him to bed early,” Tara said, reprovingly.

They both raised their hands, and she finally laughed.

After dinner they made their way to the street.

“We both have cars,” Stone said. “Can one of us offer you a ride home?”

“Mine has a siren,” Dino said. “If you’re good, I’ll let you turn it on.”

“You don’t have to be good in my car,” Stone said, as the Bentley pulled up to the curb.

“This one looks nice,” Tara said. “Thanks anyway, Dino. Maybe another time.”

Stone got in beside her. “Where do you live?” he asked.

“Bucks County, Pennsylvania,” she replied.