“You want me to read you the list of bills I paid, starting with the insurance premiums on both houses, the car and the airplane?”

“No thanks. You said Herbie has surfaced?”

“He’s sitting in your office.”

“Well, get him out of there, before he sets it on fire!”

“Talk to him first.”

“Put him on.”

There was a short silence, then: “Stone? Is it really you?” He sounded like a little boy just home from summer camp.

“Where have you been, Herbie?”

“In an attic downtown somewhere.”

“Tell me.”

“Those two guys grabbed me on the street, near my house.”

“What were you doing near your house? I told you to stay away from there.”

“All I wanted was some clean underwear.”

“Was it worth it?”

“I never got it. In fact, I’ve been wearing the same underwear for four days.”

“I didn’t need to know that, Herbie. What did they do to you?”

“They slapped me around a lot and threatened to do stuff with pliers.”

“Did you get any names?”

“Cheech and Gus. And an old guy named Carmen.”

“Do you, by any chance, mean Carmine?”

“Yeah, that’s it, with a ‘mine.’”

“What was he doing there?”

“He just came into the room for a minute this morning, looked at me and said, ‘Kill him as slow as possible.’”

“He actually said that?”

“Right before I jumped through the window.”

“You jumped out an attic window?”

“I jumped through an attic window, glass and all. You would have, too, if somebody had said to kill you slow.”

Herbie had a point. “Have you talked to your uncle?”

“Not yet.”

“Put Joan back on the phone.”

“Now what?” she asked.

“Let Herbie take a shower in the little bathroom off the kitchen, and tell Helene to throw his clothes into the washing machine and give him something to eat. Then give him two hundred dollars and call Bob Cantor and tell him to come get his nephew. I want Herbie out of there in two hours, and tell him it’s very, very dangerous for him to be in my house.”

“Gotcha,” Joan said.

“Any other calls?”

“No.”

“Call Sam Teich at Bernie Finger’s office and tell him we want an accounting today and a check in three days. Fax me anything he sends you. Call Bernice and tell her we’re ironing out the final details, and give her my cell number and the number here, if she needs to have her hand held.”

“Okay. When are you coming home?”

“Probably tomorrow. I’m stashing Celia up here to keep her former boyfriend away from her. If he should call me, tell him I’ll see him in court.”

“Okay. See ya.” Joan hung up.

Stone finished his coffee, showered and shaved and drove Celia to the Mayflower.

“Wow,” she said, as they drove up the driveway. “This is really beautiful.” She was impressed with the dining room, too.