“Only his home, his office, and his car. We held off on the locker room at his golf club out of simple human decency. My guys don’t like to listen in on naked men.”

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

“What was said about me?”

“Let’s just say it was uncomplimentary. Apparently, either Ryan or Parisi the younger recognized you, and Gino put two and two together.”

“So?”

“So, I’d watch my ass, if I were you.”

“Parisi will get over it.”

“On his car phone he said he was having to use speakerphone, because his right hand wasn’t working. I think you’ll be on his mind at least until he can play ‘Chopsticks’ on the piano again. With both hands.” Dino took a swig of his scotch and nodded toward the roses. “Who’s the grateful woman?”

“Her name is Caroline Woodhouse. She works for Brad and Stan Kelly.”

“Sounds like you’d better get plenty of rest and exercise.”

“Exercise shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dino laughed. “What’s the calorie count on the missionary position these days?”

“Let’s just say that I lost a couple of pounds.”

Dino looked at his watch. “C’mon, I’ll buy you an early dinner. Viv’s flight doesn’t get in until later tonight.”

Stone drained his glass and stood up. “I’m game.”

—

They settled into a corner table at P. J. Clarke’s, and somebody brought them another drink.

“Tell me about Brubeck and Parisi the elder,” Stone said.

“They’re from the old-time mob tradition,” Dino replied. “Parisi’s father was Carlo Parisi—remember him?”

“The Butcher of Brooklyn? We were younger then.”

“Wasn’t everybody? Bowsprit Beverages was the old man’s business,” Dino said, “under another name. He delivered bootleg booze out of there in the twenties, slot machines and jukeboxes in the fifties, drugs in the sixties.”

“What’s the current Parisi dealing in?”

“Anything he can think of, apparently. Our organized crime division likes him for a couple of murders, too. Brubeck is the accountant and runs the legit stuff. He has a family connection, too, but he’s the more refined, commuter stiff from New Jersey. Parisi, on the other hand, remains ungentrified.”

“I guess I’m out of touch,” Stone said. “I didn’t know those guys still existed.”

“Parisi is doing what he can to uphold the family tradition. Brubeck just wants to make money and give it to his synagogue.”

“Haven’t you got enough on Parisi to send him up?”

“Parisi may be crude, but he’s not stupid. The call he made from his car was to a throwaway cell phone. He doesn’t care if we know what he does, as long as we don’t have enough evidence to convict him of it.”

“What about Ryan and Parisi the younger?”