“Flashy kind of guy. I saw them in a restaurant once; she was wearing a lot of jewelry. So was he, come to think of it.” She began working on his other arm. “I think he’s married.”

“That’s kind of sore,” Stone said. “I must have fallen more on that side.”

“I’ll spend a little extra time on it. Are you in a rush?”

“God, no. You can take all afternoon, if you want to.”

She laughed. “I don’t have that much time, I’m afraid; I was able to come to you only because one of my regular clients was ill.”

“Can we set up a regular time?” he asked.

“My schedule is full, but I could call you when I have a cancellation.”

“Yes, please.”

She worked silently on the arm and shoulder, then she moved to the top of the table and began massaging his neck, then his face and scalp. She finished slowly. “There,” she said. “Is that better?”

“Oh, yes,” Stone sighed. “I could go to sleep.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said, “but lie on your back, with a pillow under your knees.”

Stone sat up. “I have an electric bed that can elevate my knees,” he said.

“Good idea.” She took his hand, led him to the bed and tucked him in.

“Celia,” he said, then he hesitated.

“Yes, I would,” she said.

“Would what?”

“Would like to have dinner with you sometime.”

“How did you know I was going to ask you?”

“It was pretty obvious when you turned over onto your back,” she said.

“Tonight?”

“Tomorrow night would be better.”

“Great. Shall I pick you up at say, eight?”

“It would be better if we met.”

“Do you know Elaine’s?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know where it is.”

“On Second Avenue, between Eighty-eighth and Eighty-ninth. At eight-thirty?”

“Perfect,” she said, laying a card on the bedside table. “My cell number is there, should you need to reach me. How should I dress?”

“You can wear anything from jeans to a ball gown at Elaine’s; I’d suggest fairly casual.”

“I can do that,” she said.

“Just one thing: You don’t work for Bernard Finger, do you?”

“No, I certainly don’t.”

“Joan will have a check for you downstairs.”

She put her cool hand on his forehead for a moment. “There,” she said, “sleep.”

He followed her instructions to the letter.

11

As Stone left his house that evening to look for a cab to Elaine’s, a black Lincoln that was double-parked a couple of doors up the street started to move slowly. He looked over his shoulder, as if looking for a cab, which he was, and checked out the car. Darkened windows. He suddenly regretted that he was not armed.