Hot Mahogany

3

Stone went back into Elaine’s and sat down with Dino and Genevieve, both of whom, he was grateful to see, had fallen silent.

“Dino, I need your help,” he said.

“I’d better be going,” Genevieve said, standing up.

“No, don’t go,” Stone said.

“I’ve got a night shift starting in a few minutes,” she said. She pecked Stone on the cheek, fetched Dino a sweeping, openhanded blow to the back of the head, mussing his hair, and left.

“Why do I think you got off light?” Stone asked.

“I still don’t know what it’s about,” Dino said, smoothing his hair.

“You may never know,” Stone said. “I need your help.” He explained about Lance’s brother.

“And you let him walk out of here?” Dino asked, incredulous.

“I had to go to the john, all right? And besides, he was sitting, chatting with Elaine.”

“You know Elaine spends her evening cruising tables.”

“But why would he just walk out? He knew he was supposed to stay at my house tonight.”

“You already told me the guy just barely knows who he is.”

“But he’s remembering more all the time.”

“Maybe he remembered he had a late date.”

“You’re not helping.”

“What do you want me to do? Put out an APB on him? He hasn’t committed a crime, and there hasn’t been a missing persons report filed, has there?”

“Not that I know of,” Stone admitted.

“He’s a grown man who’s a little shaken up. Eventually, he’ll remember more and go home.”

“Lance asked me to take care of him.”

“You’re his brother’s keeper? Isn’t that Lance’s job?”

“Lance has a flap on at Langley.” Stone told Dino about the meeting with the director.

“Well, I don’t envy him his problem,” Dino admitted.

“There is something you can do.”

“What?”

“Call the precinct and get somebody to do a search of driver’s licenses in New York State for a Barton Cabot, then New Jersey and Connecticut, if necessary.”

“I guess I can do that,” Dino said, producing his cell phone. He pressed a speed-dial button and spoke briefly to someone, then snapped the phone shut. “They’ll get back to me.”

“I just don’t understand where the guy could be going,” Stone said.

“You said he took a cab?”

“Elaine said she saw him getting into one.”

Dino got out his cell phone and made another call. “They’ll call the cab companies and have them put out a radio call to their cabs, asking who picked up a fare at Elaine’s and where they took him. It won’t reach every cab, but we might get lucky. Shouldn’t take long.”

A waiter came over and said that Elaine would like to buy them an after-dinner drink, the way she always did. They ordered.

Dino’s phone rang. “Bacchetti. Yeah. Yeah. You’re sure? Thanks.” He closed the phone. “A cab picked him up here and took him to Sotheby’s.”

“The auction house on Madison Avenue?”

“Nah, they moved to Rockefeller Center a few years ago; I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

“I knew that; I just forgot. Why Sotheby’s? It’s the middle of the fucking night; they’re not open.”

“You’re looking for logic from a guy in his shape?”

“You’re right, Dino.”

“I usually am.”

“Well, not all the time, just some of the time.”

“Too late; you already admitted it.”

“Well, there’s no point in going over to Sotheby’s, is there?”

“Why not? My car is outside.”

They tossed down their drinks, left Elaine’s and got into Dino’s car, driven by a young officer. “Take us to Rockefeller Center,” Dino said. “Sotheby’s.”

“So, what rookie are you torturing these days?” Stone asked, nodding at the driver.

“He’s a lucky kid, this one; he could be out there getting shot at, right, Leary?”

“You’re not related to Captain Leary, now retired, are you?” Stone asked.

“He’s my father,” the young man said, driving swiftly down Second Avenue.

“Well,” Stone said, “he made our lives hell for a few years at the One-Nine.”

“So he says,” Leary replied. “Says he enjoyed every minute of it, too.”

“Shut up and drive, Leary,” Dino said.

They found Sotheby’s, and Dino had Leary drive them around the block a couple of times, while they looked into darkened doorways with a flashlight.

“Your chicken has flown the coop,” Dino said. “Leary, take Mr. Barrington to his lovely home in Turtle Bay.”

“I know the joint,” Leary said.

“It’s not a joint,” Stone pointed out.

“Whatever.” Leary had them there in five minutes.

As they stopped, Dino’s cell phone rang. “Bacchetti. Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He hung up and turned toward Stone. “There’s a Barton Lowell Cabot at 110 North Shore Road, in Warren, Connecticut. The only guy by that name in three states.”

Stone made a note of the address.

“Look,” Dino said, “if he hasn’t turned up by morning, I’ll have the watch sergeant spread the word about him at the shift change.”

“Thanks, Dino. I’ll keep you posted.” Stone got out of the car, and it drove away. Stone walked up his front steps, and as he was fumbling for his key, he saw the moving shadow of someone behind him. He spun around, ready to repel a mugger, and found Barton Cabot standing there.

“Holy shit, Barton,” Stone said. “You scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry,” Cabot replied.

“Why did you leave Elaine’s?”

“I’m supposed to sleep here tonight,” Cabot replied, with perfect logic.

“Why did you go to Sotheby’s?”

Cabot looked puzzled. “I don’t know. But then I came here.” Stone looked at the address on his jotter. “Do you recognize 110 North Shore Road, Warren, Connecticut?”

“Sure, I live there.”

Stone sighed and unlocked the door. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”