Lucid Intervals

24

Stone got to Elaine’s first, and two couples he didn’t know were sitting at the table next to his. One of the men got up, walked around the table, tapped Stone on the shoulder and stuck out his hand. “Stone Barrington, I believe?”

Stone stood up and accepted the hand. “I believe, too,” he said.

“I’m Jim Hackett; I understand we’re playing tennis tomorrow evening.” Hackett was a little shorter than Stone, solidly built and had a broken nose that made him look like an ex-fighter.

“Hi, Jim,” Stone said. “I’ve heard about you from Bill Eggers, and I’m looking forward to our game.”

“So am I,” Hackett replied.

“I’m a little rusty, so I hope you’ll go easy on me.”

Hackett smiled. “Don’t count on it,” he said. “I hope Eggers told you we play for money.”

“He didn’t, so you can collect your winnings from him. I’m sure he’ll find a way to put my losses on his expense account.”

Hackett laughed. “See you tomorrow.” He went back to his seat.

Dino came in and sat down. “Where’s Felicity?”

“Working. Some sort of meeting.”

Dino waylaid a passing waiter. “Bring what’s-his-name here his usual Kentucky swill and me my usual princely Scotch,” Dino said. “And a wine list; Stone’s buying.”

“Here we go,” Stone said, rolling his eyes.

Dino pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Stone. “Here’s Herbie’s arrest report,” he said. “I scrubbed it from the computer, too.”

Stone looked it over and then put it in his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to burn it?”

“Not until I’ve shown it to Herbie,” Stone replied.

“What’s he up to these days, besides annoying honest police officers?”

“He bought an apartment on Park Avenue for three and a half big ones,” Stone said.

“Where on Park?”

Stone recited the number.

“Not the penthouse, I hope.”

“Well, you can hope,” Stone said. “What’s wrong with the penthouse?”

“Nothing if Herbie isn’t bothered by ghosts.”

“Ghosts? What are you talking about?”

“You know, if you read a real street newspaper instead of the Times, you’d know these things.”

“What things?”

“There was a double murder there about a year and a half ago: man and woman found hacked to death on the living room floor. The ME says the murderers used meat cleavers.”

“Why are you telling me this? I don’t want to know this stuff.”

“Herbie might. The apartment is unsalable; there’ve been two sightings of ghosts in the place. How much is Herbie paying?”

“I told you, three and a half million.”

“I guess that’s a bargain, kind of; they were asking five.”

“Herbie says five and a half but that he’s a great negotiator.”

“They should have paid him,” Dino said. “That’s the kind of thing that hangs over a piece of real estate for decades. I guess he could redecorate.”

“He bought it furnished.”

“Take my advice: when you draw up the contract, be sure to include a clause that requires the seller-or his estate-to have the living room carpet replaced.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stone said.

“Can you get him out of it?”

“He already gave them a check for three hundred and fifty grand.”

“Did he sign the disclosure form?”

“I don’t know.”

“The murders would be a factor affecting the sale price,” Dino said. “If they didn’t disclose them, you might be able to get him out of the deal.”

“If I were on the other side of the deal, I’d say that a two-million-dollar discount ought to cover the, ah, incident.”

“But you’re not on the other side of the deal.”

Stone took a swig of his drink. “I’m not going to think about this now. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

Herbie and Sheila walked into Elaine’s.

“Oh, shit,” Stone said.

The couple stopped at Stone’s table. “Hi, Stone,” Herbie said. “You remember Sheila.” Herbie was reaching for one of the two empty chairs.

STONE PUT A leg up on one of the chairs. “Sore knee,” he said to Herbie. “Good evening, Sheila.”

Sheila turned to Herbie. “They don’t want us to sit here; let’s sit in the back.”

“Herbie,” Stone said, “when you put down the deposit on the apartment, did you sign anything?”

Herbie looked thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said, slapping his pockets and coming up with an envelope.

Stone took the envelope. “I’d better look this over,” he said. “See you later.” He turned back to his drink, and Herbie took the hint, for a change.

“You going to open the envelope?” Dino asked.

“Not until I’ve had another drink,” Stone said, waving at a waiter, who was way ahead of him. Stone took a sip of his second drink and opened the envelope. “Here it is,” he said, reading from the document: “ ‘Seller acknowledges that he is aware of the previous owners’ deaths by violence in the apartment and that his offer is made with due consideration of market consequences of that event.’ ”

“I guess you could call that disclosure,” Dino said, “even though it doesn’t mention the meat cleavers or machetes.”

“I guess you could,” Stone said. “Excuse me for a minute.” He got up and walked back to Herbie’s table. “May I sit down for a moment?” he asked.

“No,” Sheila said.

“Sure,” Herbie said.

Stone decided to ignore Sheila and sat down. He handed Herbie the disclosure agreement. “Read paragraph eleven,” he said.

Herbie read it. “What does this mean?” he asked.

“It means that the previous owners were murdered in the apartment, hacked to death with meat cleavers.”

“Omigod!” Sheila shrieked. “It’s that building? You read about that in the Post, didn’t you, Herbie?”

“Ah, no,” Herbie said.

“But,” Stone interjected, “you did read about it in this disclosure agreement that you signed when you gave the agent your check for three hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”

“Well…”

“Herbie,” Sheila said, “are you insane?”

“Now, wait a minute, Sheila.”

“Yes,” Stone said, “wait a minute, Sheila. Herbie got a two-million-dollar discount on the apartment because of the murders. That should make you feel better about the deal.”

“I don’t give a shit about the murders,” Sheila said. “What I do give a shit about are the ghosts! For God’s sake, don’t you two guys ever read a newspaper?”

Herbie had turned a lighter shade of his usual pallor. “Ghosts? What are you talking about?”

Stone stood up. “Sheila will explain it to you. I apologize for interrupting your evening,” he said, including Sheila. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

He got the hell out of there and went back to his own table.

“Never mind telling me,” Dino said. “I heard it from over here.”