“Bernie Finger has put the penthouse on the market.”

“That is bad news,” Stone agreed. “You think he’s really going to give up the girlfriend and go back to his wife?”

“You haven’t heard the good news. The girlfriend is shopping for a new apartment with the same agent who’s listing the penthouse.”

“Well, I guess she’s got to live somewhere. How is that good news?”

“She’s looking at apartments she could never afford, that’s how. Bernie can afford them, though.”

“That is good news. Keep on her, okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” Cantor hung up.

Stone toyed with the idea of calling Mrs. Finger and telling her about the masseuse’s search for shelter. No, he thought, not yet; not while Bernie is still being sweet to her. Wait until the girl finds a place and moves in; then Bernie will suddenly start working nights again. Stone would be patient.

49

Dino walked through the detectives’ squad room at the 19th Precinct, tapped one of his people on the shoulder and motioned toward his office. He settled behind his desk and watched the new detective walk toward him.

“Have a seat,” he said. “How tall are you?”

“Six foot, two, Boss.”

“How long you had the gold shield?”

“Three weeks, Boss.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘Boss’ all the time, just sometimes. Try Dino.”

“Three weeks, Dino.”

“How would you like to do a little undercover work?”

The detective’s eyes brightened. “I’d love it, Boss. Uh, Dino.”

“You know why I picked you for this assignment?”

The detective looked thoughtful for a moment. “Does it have something to do with how tall I am?”

“That, and how beautiful you are,” Dino said. “And I don’t mean that in a sexual harrassment way. What’s your first name, Detective?”

“Willa.”

“As in Willa she or won’ta she?”

“Gee, I hadn’t heard that one before, Dino. Uh, Boss. What kind of undercover are we talking about?”

“The dangerous kind.”

“Goes with the territory, I guess.”

“Let me explain, Willa. There’s a corpse out in New Jersey, a very beautiful, six-foot, three-inch woman, and it has only recently been reunited with its head. It’s very likely that she was murdered by someone sent by a man named Devlin Daltry.”

“The sculptor?”

“If you’ve heard of the guy you’re a lot more artsy-fartsy than I am. Yeah, the sculptor. The guy has a history of obsessing over women, stalking them and doing violence to other men who are interested in them. He’s not a very big guy, but he seems to have a thing for tall women who are also beautiful.”

“I get the picture,” Willa said.

“I want you to study up on him, then place yourself in his way and see what happens.”

Willa straightened her skirt and looked uncomfortable. “Do I have to fuck him?”