“You do look a little peaked,” she said. “Nothing much to do today. Sam Teich says he’ll have an accounting to you by close of business, which probably means tomorrow morning, and he needs five days to liquidate assets and produce a check, unless you want to just divide some of the assets, like the stocks. He says to give him a call tomorrow and let him know how you want to handle it.”

Stone shook his head, “Frankly, I can’t believe how cooperative Bernie is being.”

“I bet it’s not Bernie, but Sam, who is doing the cooperating. I bet Bernie is screaming bloody murder.”

“You’re probably right. I assume Bob Cantor came and took his nephew away.”

Joan looked at the floor. “Well, there was a teensy problem with that.”

Stone’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by a ‘teensy’?”

“Well, Bob is actually in Atlanta for a couple of days, and he doesn’t want Herbie in his house while he’s gone, for fear that Herbie will hock everything and bet on the ponies.”

“So, where is Herbie?”

“In the third-floor guest room.”

“My third-floor guest room?”

“He’s so sweet; I couldn’t just throw him into the street and let Dattila’s thugs get him again.”

“You’re fired.”

“Okay, but who’s going to do everything for you?”

“All right, you’re hired back, but how could you leave that little creep alone in my house? He’s probably hocked everything I own.”

“No, he hasn’t; I locked him in when I left last night, so he couldn’t get any of your stuff out of the house. Anyway, he seems to sleep most of the time.”

“Did you drug him?”

“I would have, but he didn’t seem to need it. He’s probably exhausted after his ordeal in the attic.”

“Did he have any cuts on his body?”

“Not on the parts of his body I saw, but I didn’t do a full inspection.”

“He’s lying, the little bastard! He said he jumped clean through a glass window and fell from an attic, and yet he doesn’t have a mark on him!”

A voice came from the doorway. “I’ve got a nick right here, on my elbow, that I used to break the window.” Herbie was standing there in one of Stone’s Sea Island cotton nightshirts.

“Take off the nightshirt,” Stone commanded.

“Huh? Right in front of the lady?”

“She’s not that much of a lady, so take it off.”

Herbie lifted the nightshirt over his head. There was some bruising around his ribs.

“Turn around,” Stone said.

“Please,” Joan echoed.

There were bruises on his back, too.

“All right, so you got pounded a little; how come no cuts from the glass and the fall?”

“Well, the window was actually open, and it was only a short fall to the canvas.”

“Canvas?”