“They had a big piece of canvas draped over some stuff, and it broke my fall. I sprained my ankle, though, when I went over the fence and landed on the sidewalk.”

“How did you get here?”

“I sprinted down the block, ignoring the intense pain from my ankle, went into a subway station, jumped the turnstile and here I am! Can I put the nightshirt on again?”

“No. Go get your clothes on and give the nightshirt to Helene, in the kitchen. You’re leaving here immediately.”

“But where am I going to go?” Herbie wailed.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care where you go?”

Herbie turned to leave the room.

“Wait a minute,” Stone said.

“Huh?”

“Put on the nightshirt to save Joan’s modesty. Joan, get me Bernie Finger.”

Joan picked up the phone on Stone’s desk and dialed. “He’s on the line,” she said.

Stone picked up the phone. “Bernie? Let’s do the depositions today. Three o’clock at your place?”

“I thought your client was unavailable,” Finger said.

“He’s just become available,” Stone replied. “Didn’t your client tell you that Herbie made good his escape from the attic where Carmine had him imprisoned and beaten?”

“Of course he didn’t tell me any such thing.”

“All right, three o’clock at your office. Tell Sam I’ll pick up the accounting while I’m there.”

“I’m under strict instructions from my attorney not to discuss that with you.”

“Just give him the message.” Stone hung up and pointed at Herbie. “Does he have any clothes at all?” he asked Joan.

“Helene should have them washed and ironed by now.”

“Herbie, get dressed; we have a three-o’clock appointment.”

Herbie looked at the clock on Stone’s desk. “Can I watch the soaps until then?”

“Please, but do it in the kitchen. And give Helene that nightshirt and tell her to disinfect it.”

“Sure, Stone,” Herbie said happily, as he padded off to the kitchen.

“Is he driving Helene crazy?” Stone asked Joan.

“No, she thinks he’s sweet, too.”

“You’re both crazy or hormonal or something.”

“Careful, you’re treading a thin line, on one side of which is the kind of sexism that could result in a lawsuit.” She went back to her office.

Stone’s phone rang, and Dino’s cell number came up on the caller ID screen. Stone answered. “Morning, Dino.”

“Good morning. What was that thing the other night about bad cops?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Two bozos with badges were tailing Celia until I rousted them. I didn’t get any names or badge numbers.”

“Next time I.D. them, and I’ll put the fear of God into them.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that.”

“So, is Celia safe from her ex-boyfriend?”

“For the moment. I stashed her in the Connecticut house.”