“A guy named Devlin Daltry, a sculptor, who lives at…” He looked at the paper on the bedside table and gave Cantor the address.

“You’re sure he’s the guy?”

“Yes.”

“Is he going to be arrested?”

“No. He has an alibi from two retired cops, no names.”

“You want something to happen to him?”

“Yes, but the two cops may be hanging around him as bodyguards.”

“You care what happens to them?”

“Let’s not spread this around. I’d like Daltry found alone and pain inflicted upon him, but not anything even nearly like death.”

“Any message you want delivered?”

“The pain will be the message. Oh, and I want his left wrist broken.”

“That’s an odd request.”

“It’s what he did to me.”

“I know somebody who can handle this discreetly.”

“I thought you would.”

“When?”

“I’ll be at Elaine’s this evening with Dino, from about eight-thirty.”

“I’ll see what can be done.”

“If it’s not done this evening, call me beforehand, so I can have an alibi.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Bob. I hope Herbie gets found before…”

“Yeah.” Cantor hung up.

“Before he’s too dead,” Stone said to himself.

31

Stone was finishing his lunch when Joan buzzed. “Eliza Larkin on line one,” she said.

“Who?”

“Emergency room doctor.”

“Oh, yes!” He punched the button. “Hello.”

“Mr. Barrington, it’s Dr. Larkin. I wanted to see how you are feeling.”

“Well, when I take the pills, I feel better than I should.”

“Nice and warm and fuzzy?”

“How did you know?”

“I sprained my ankle once.”

“I hope you have fully recovered.”

“I have, thank you. I don’t think you will need any further medical attention.”

“Oh, but I will. In fact, I think I will need medical attention at dinner this evening. Would you like to join Lieutenant Bacchetti and me at Elaine’s at eight-thirty?”

“And just what sort of medical attention do you think you will need?”

“Well, the Heimlich maneuver, perhaps. I eat too quickly.”

She chuckled.

“Or CPR, maybe?”

“I’m sure Lieutenant Bacchetti can handle that.”

“Lieutenant Bacchetti can be curiously inept at times, and I want only the best professional assistance.”

“Where is Elaine’s?”

“Second Avenue, between Eighty-eighth and Eighty-ninth, west side of the street. You’ll see the yellow awning.”

“Eight-thirty, you said?”

“That would be perfect.”

“How does one dress at Elaine’s?”

“In clothes; there are no other requirements.”

“You are a typical male. What should I wear?”

“A tight skirt with a deep slit and a pushup bra. Or better, no bra at all.”

“Big help.”

“Anything but scrubs.”

“See you then.” She hung up.

Stone was feeling rosy, not only from the pill but also from the thought of seeing Dr. Larkin again. Then the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It’s Celia. Can you talk?”

Stone felt unaccountably guilty, as if by having dinner with Eliza Larkin, he was jilting Celia. “Sure, how are you?”