“This is my third try at getting the guy, and I’ve never even gone to trial.”

“I can imagine how you must feel.”

“No, you can’t. If you hear from Herbie, tell him to scamper. After what happened at the hotel I’m not at all sure we can protect him.”

“I’ll give him the message.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.” Stone hung up and turned to Dino. “Dattila is out, and if what Dierdre says is true, Herbie’s as good as dead.”

Willa watched while Devlin Daltry unlocked three deadbolts on a huge steel door and let them into his building. They were on the ground floor, which was being used as a garage. Daltry pressed a button, and a freight elevator descended.

“That’s a very big elevator,” Willa said, for the benefit of her colleagues.

“Some of my pieces are of heroic proportions,” Daltry said, as they started up. “I couldn’t get them out of the studio without this.”

She counted three floors as they rose. “You live and work on the top floor?”

“Yes.”

“What’s on the others?”

“Not much, some office help on one. I’m thinking of converting the other two to lofts and selling them.”

They stopped at the fourth floor and stepped into an enormous room.

“My goodness,” Willa said, actually overwhelmed. The space was furnished as a living room, and at the other end she could see a professional-style kitchen. “This is fantastic.” She pointed at the kitchen. “You must do a lot of cooking.”

“I don’t cook at all, actually, but I need the kitchen for parties. The caterers love it. Come, I’ll show you my studio.”

They walked for perhaps half a block and passed through huge double doors into an artist’s studio that she could not have imagined. First of all, contrary to her notion of what an artist’s studio was like, it was spotlessly clean and extremely neat. Double-height windows rose to receive the north light, and scattered around the space were pieces of Daltry’s work, some already cast, some still in clay.

“You are obsessively neat, aren’t you?” Willa said.

Daltry seemed to take umbrage at the characterization. “I am not obsessive about anything,” he said defensively. “I simply like to live in an orderly world.”

Willa’s attention was riveted on a bronze of a very tall woman, missing its head. “What is that?”

“Oh, I was unhappy with the way the head turned out, so I’m going to redo it.”

“After it’s already cast?”

“It can be done. Would you like to see the rest of my home?”

“Yes, thank you. Is there still another level?”

“Yes. The elevator only goes to the fourth floor, but the stairs lead one more flight up.”

“Don’t go to his bedroom,” Bernstein said into her ear.

“Is that where your bedroom is?”