“Oh, just pursue this case; it’ll happen. Maybe you’ll happen, too.”

“I’m going to try and avoid that.”

“Good idea. Maybe you better go see Eduardo.”

Eduardo Bianchi was Dino’s former father-in-law. He was Stone’s former father-in-law, too, but that was complicated. “I hate to bug him with something this trivial.”

“He likes you; he’ll give you a good lunch.”

“Maybe.”

“What else you got?”

“Not much.”

“Have a good time.”

5

Stone dictated the complaint and told Joan to get it filed immediately, then he went through his accounts receivable, looking for who owed him. Hardly anybody, as it turned out, and not very much. That took the rest of the morning. He ate a sandwich at his desk and worried about money.

After lunch, he called Dino’s Mob guy.

“Joe Giraldi,” a voice said.

“Hi, Joe, I’m Stone Barrington; I used to be Dino Bacchetti’s partner at the one nine.”

“I know who you are,” Giraldi replied. He didn’t sound thrilled.

“Dino told me you know everything there is to know about the Mob in New York.”

“If I knew everything there was to know about the Mob in New York, they’d all be doing time in Attica.”

“Heh, heh,” Stone said. “Well, the fact remains that you know a hell of a lot more than I know, and that’s what I’m looking for.”

“For what? You writing a novel?”

“No, I’m filing a civil suit against Carmine Dattila and…” Stone stopped talking. All he could hear was laughter from the other end of the line. He waited for it to subside.

“That’s rich!” Giraldi howled, trying to get control of himself. “Hey, Charlie,” he shouted to somebody in the room, “I got some schmuck lawyer on the phone says he’s going to sue Carmine Dattila!” There were howls from what sounded like half a dozen other cops. Giraldi eventually got control of himself. “What are you suing him for, Barrington?”

“A couple of his people assaulted a client of mine while collecting a debt.”

“Well, that’s what they do,” Giraldi chuckled. “Give your client some advice for me: Tell him to pay what he owes and not to bet with Mob bookies again. That’ll solve his problem.”

“I’m afraid it’s a little late for that,” Stone said. “He owes twenty-four grand.”

“Sheesh!” Giraldi exhaled. “What do you want to know?”

“I’ve got a lot of questions about the structure of Dattila’s family, who does what, that sort of thing.”

“Well, my price for that sort of thing is a steak dinner.”

“You’re on. Elaine’s at eight-thirty?”

“Nah, nah, nah. The Palm at seven-thirty. I get hungry early.”

Stone sighed. “All right, but that’s got to cover your testifying, too.”