Stone resisted the urge to throw himself across the desk and strangle Herbie. “Joan!” he yelled. “Come in here and bring the Polaroid camera!”

“Are we going to write a complaint?” Herbie asked.

“Stop pretending you’re a lawyer,” Stone replied.

Joan came into Stone’s office. “We haven’t had any film for the Polaroid camera for two years,” she said, “but I brought my phone.” She held up a cell phone.

“I don’t want to make a call,” Stone said. “I want to take pictures of Herbie’s injuries.”

“There’s a camera in my phone, Stone; there’s one in yours, too.”

“There is?”

Joan swiveled Herbie around in his chair and turned Stone’s desk lamp on his face. “Don’t smile,” she said, holding up the cell phone.

Herbie smiled. “Cheese,” he said, revealing a missing tooth.

Joan snapped several pictures, front and profile.

“Do you have any bruises on your body?” Stone asked.

“Oh, sure,” Herbie said.

“Take off your shirt and stand against the wall.”

Herbie slipped out of his jacket and shirt and stood up. He had half a dozen big bruises around his ribs and belly.

“Did they kick you in the balls?” Stone asked.

“Uh-uh,” Joan said quickly. “That’s where I draw the line.”

“Never mind,” Stone said. “Herbie, have you seen a doctor?”

“The girls made me go to the emergency room at Lenox Hill Hospital.”

“Do you have a receipt for your bill?”

Herbie groped his jacket, then held up a credit card slip. “Here it is!” he said triumphantly.

Stone looked at it. “You have a working credit card?”

“Well, of course. Oh, I have to see a plastic surgeon to get my nose fixed.”

“Joan, who’s a good nose guy?”

“How should I know?” she asked indignantly.

“Who did your sister?”

“I presume you mean her nose. Steinberg.”

“Make an appointment for Herbie with Steinberg, and make it clear to his secretary that we’ll need a written description of his injuries, along with a statement of the cost to repair the damage. Tell him not to stint. And tell her not to bill us.”

“I have to get my nose fixed pretty soon,” Herbie said. “The ER doctor said it’ll start to heal, and then it’ll have to be rebroken.”

“So, make an appointment and have the surgery,” Stone said.

“That’s going to cost.”

“That’s your problem, Herbie. As far as I’m concerned we’ll have a stronger case if your nose looks bad at trial.”

“But how am I going to attract women?”

“With the money you saved on plastic surgery; they won’t charge you any more than they did before.”

Herbie tucked in his shirttail and began tying his tie.

“Can we write the complaint together?”

“No. I require privacy when I compose complaints.”

“Come on, Stone, let me work with you on this case.”