Sex, Lies & Serious Money

43

Stone slid out of bed, trying not to wake Hev. They had been at it until the wee hours, and he was still tired, not to mention sore.

He got into the shower and dumped some shampoo on his head, which got into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. Then a body rubbed against him. “Now who could that be?”

“How soon you forget,” Hev said, taking him in her hand.

“I’m a little sore down there,” he said.

“Awww. And I was so looking forward.”

“It will soon be restored to health, if we give it a little rest.”

She stepped out of the shower and appropriated his towel. He followed her, wet, and found another bath sheet in his linen cupboard. By the time he got back to the bedroom she was dressed in her Strategic Services jumpsuit.

“Having been rebuffed, I’m off to work,” she said.

“That wasn’t a rebuff, just a momentary retreat.”

“I’ll forgive you this time.”

“Oh, thank you. I feel so much better now.”

His bedside phone rang, and he picked it up. “Yes?”

“A package was hand-delivered from Strategic Services,” Joan said.

“I’ll be down shortly.” He hung up. “Hev, there’s a package from your office.”

“That will be your new door locks,” she said.

“Do me a favor, go out the front door, then ring my office bell from the outside.”

“We’re deceiving Joan, are we?”

“We hope to, but I won’t count on it. Look surprised about the package.”

“I’ll try.” She kissed him and left.

Stone sat down on the bed and called Laurence Hayward.

“Good morning, Stone, how are you?”

“Very well, thank you, and welcome back.”

“Thank you.”

“Laurence, it seems we have a mutual problem.”

“And what is that?”

“Do you know a man named Marvin Jones?”

“Well, we haven’t been properly introduced, but I have security footage of him in my apartment.”

“Funny, so do I. In my house.”

“Dino told me his name.”

“Same here.”

“I don’t get it,” Laurence said, “what’s the connection between you, me, and Mr. Jones?”

“I don’t get it either. I’m baffled.”

“A very good word for my condition.”

“Run your tapes for the time you were gone, and see if he pops up.”

“I certainly will, and right away.”

They hung up, and Stone got dressed. As he was about to go downstairs, Laurence called back.

“I’ve viewed my tapes, and Mr. Jones does not make an appearance.”

“I’m still baffled,” Stone said.

“So am I. Will you call Dino, or shall I?”

“I’ll speak to him,” Stone said, then hung up. Then it occurred to him that he had nothing to tell Dino, who had already seen the video from his house. He went downstairs and found Joan at her desk. “You said I had a package?”

“Never mind, Ms. Peace arrived from somewhere or other and relieved me of it, said it contained our new locks. What’s wrong with our old locks?”

“They’ve been picked twice,” Stone said, then explained the situation.

“But what’s the connection between this Jones, you, and Mr. Hayward?”

“We are both baffled.”

“Dino, too?”

“We are all baffled.”

“Add me to the list.” She took her Colt .45 from her desk drawer, popped the magazine, ejected a round, looked it over, then reloaded it, worked the action, and returned it to the drawer. “Okay, I’m ready for him.”

“Please, please, don’t shoot the man. It was so messy last time, what with the carpet and all.”

“Should I offer him coffee and Danish?”

“You may hold him at gunpoint while calling nine-one-one.”

“Not Dino?”

“Dino doesn’t really like taking nine-one-one calls. He’d rather hear about it later.”

“And who can blame him?” She gave Stone his mail and went back to work.

Stone sat down at his desk and reviewed the mail, sorting the real stuff into one pile and the catalogs and begging letters into another. The pile of real mail was much the smaller of the two, and he gave it to Joan to handle.

Bob came in and lobbied for a cookie, and Stone, against his better judgment, gave him one. “I know this isn’t your first of the day,” he said to the dog.

Bob requested another.

“Not I, pal. Try Joan.”

Bob padded into Joan’s office and didn’t come back.

“You’re a pushover!” he called out to her.

“Look who’s talking!” she called back.

A little later, Dino called.

“Good morning.”

“You sound tired,” Dino said.

“Don’t start with me.”

“I’ll bet Ms. Heavenly Peace isn’t a bit tired.”

“I said, don’t start.”

“Girls like that never wear out, they just keep going, like that rabbit in the commercials.”

“Dino, I’m too tired to handle this.”

“I thought so.”

“What do you want?”

“There’s news on the Marvin Jones front.”

“Tell me.”

“We’re canvassing all the locksmiths on the East Side, down to Fourteenth Street.”

“Oh, good. Why?”

“Before he went to prison for financial no-no’s, Mr. Jones worked for three years for a locksmith.”

“Surely the terms of his parole would prevent him from working for another locksmith. No locksmith could hire him.”

“He’s not on parole — not anymore, anyway.”

“Has he been out that long?”

“No, I guess you haven’t heard about the overcrowding in the prison population?”

“I did see something about that in the papers. Did he get sprung?”

“Yes, him and a lot of others.”

“Then there must have been overcrowding among those released at the parole offices.”

“Exactly. He and others, with no record of violent crimes, were discharged from parole, an unintended consequence of which is that Mr. Jones, not being on parole, but a free man, can work for a locksmith again. He can even apply for a license, having served an apprenticeship before the law caught up with his financial indiscretions.”

“So, you’re canvassing all the locksmiths on the East Side?”

“Down to Fourteenth Street.”

Stone sighed. “Call me when that hen lays an egg.” He hung up.