“I didn’t get involved; Woodman and Weld, in the person of Bill Eggers, suddenly decided it was a good idea that I should sue the most murderous goombah thug in the city, maybe the world. I can’t tell you what a nightmare it’s been.”

“I can imagine,” she said. A waiter appeared at their table. Dierdre handed him the menu. “I’ll have the shrimp pasta dish, no starter, and another cosmo.”

“Same for me, hold the cosmo,” Stone said.

“So, what have you been doing besides suing the Hun?” she asked.

“Well, I had a client murdered last night.”

“This is the one with Devlin Daltry as the suspect.” It wasn’t a question.

“You’re very well informed.”

“Was she really…” She grimaced.

“Headless? Yes, she was. It was an ugly business, and Daltry has an alibi.”

“And I suppose you feel responsible?”

“I thought I had done everything I could do to protect her, but, yes, I can’t shake that feeling. I’m not sure I ever will.”

The waiter came back with the cosmo. Dierdre polished off her first drink and took a swig of the second. “Okay,” she said, when the waiter had gone, “gimme.” She held out a hand.

“Give you what?”

“You want me to subpoena you? Get a search warrant for your house?”

“Dierdre, I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

“Gimme the Dattila tape, and we’ll go back to your house and I’ll fuck your brains out.”

“That’s the nicest thing anybody has said to me this year,” Stone said, placing his briefcase on the table and opening it. He handed her a dictator with an earplug and pressed the Play button.

Dierdre listened intently. “I don’t believe this,” she said, giggling. “That’s his voice. I only met him once, but I recognize it.”

“And Herbie can put him in the room, along with Cheech and Gus, and swear he said it.”

She popped open the dictator, emptied the tape into her palm and tucked it into her very impressive cleavage. “Do you want lunch before I fuck you, or shall we get on with it?”

“I’m hungry,” Stone said. He wasn’t up for this, and he didn’t know how he was going to get out of it. As if on cue, the waiter set down two plates of pasta.

“Okay, but be quick about it,” she said, digging in. “I haven’t got the whole afternoon; there’s a deposition at three.”

“Are you that fast these days?”

“I’d love the whole afternoon, but duty calls. What else you working on these days?”

“Well, I had a really juicy divorce case, but it blew up in my face.”

“Anybody I know?”

“How about Bernard Finger, Esquire? I was representing his wife.”

“What fun!” she giggled. “Nice fee, I’ll bet.”

“I was doing it on a contingency basis.”