Dino shook his head. “Guys like Carmine don’t kill money. He would be more likely to get the money, then kill Herbie. Maybe that’s what he’s doing right now, torturing Herbie in a cellar somewhere, trying to get the money out of him.”

“Well, I would certainly not want Herbie or anybody else to be tortured, even if he did bring it on himself by betting with bookies, failing to pay, then suing Carmine.”

“But you don’t mind if Carmine offs him?”

“I’d off him myself, if I thought I could get away with it.”

“Well, the thought of Herbie dead isn’t enough to make you this happy. What else?”

Stone fished an envelope out of his pocket. “Read this,” he said. “Bernie Finger is going to be served with it tomorrow morning, but I thought you’d enjoy seeing it first.”

Dino opened the envelope and read the complaint. “Holy shit!” he said. “Bernie Finger’s wife has hired you?”

“Can you believe the luck?”

“I saw the pictures in the Post today,” Dino said. “I thought Bob Cantor’s fingerprints were all over them.”

“You think so?”

“I think more than that. I think you put Bob up to it.”

“I would never cop to that,” Stone said.

“Well, it is a little extreme for you, but there was that thing that Bernie said on Page Six about your lunch at the Four Seasons.”

“The guy offers me what amounts to a bribe to settle Herbie’s case, leaves in a huff when I call him on it, then lies about it to the Post. That kind of thing could hurt a lawyer’s reputation. In fact, that was his intention. Apiece like that in the papers could cost me a lot of business.”

“I guess he was trying to tell you not to fuck with him and his client.”

“Exactly. You know how reluctant I was to get involved in this suit, but now I’m going to nail Dattila to the wall.”

“And screw Bernie Finger at the same time?”

“Well, a little.”

“Handling his wife’s divorce isn’t going to make him happy.”

“Listen, God sent me that case. You know how Bernice Finger chose me? She heard Bernie cursing me in his sleep. How about that for a recommendation!”

Dino laughed. “That’s good; that’s really good.”

Stone looked at the front door. “No,” he said, nodding toward the door, “that’s good.”

Dino swiveled his head in time to see Bernard Finger and Marilyn the Masseuse being led to a table up front.

Stone grabbed the complaint from Dino’s fingers and stuffed it back into the envelope. “I’ll be right back,” he said, rising.

He walked toward the front of the restaurant. Finger didn’t see him coming, but Marilyn did, and her face fell. Finger turned around to look for the problem and found it immediately.