Chapters (62)
- Cover
- Contents
- “We Are Very Different People”:
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- Acknowledgments
- Stone Barrington: The First Five
- About the Author
- Critical Acclaim for Stuart Woods and
- Books by Stuart Woods
- Credits
- About the Publisher
“On the same night, all within an hour of each other,” Leary said. “We got a fucking wildcat cabdrivers’ strike going, you know that? Park Avenue is a parking lot. There’s two thousand cabs just sitting there. You didn’t notice?”
“Park Avenue isn’t on my way to work,” Stone said.
“You’re lucky you and Bacchetti are still on Nijinsky,” Leary said. “The mayor wasn’t interested personally, you wouldn’t be. What’ve you got on the lady?”
“Zip,” Dino said.
“Some ideas,” Stone said, shooting Dino a glance.
“What ideas?” Leary asked.
“We want a search warrant on Van Fleet,” Stone said.
“Dino’s been telling me about him,” Leary replied. “I like him for this. You got enough for the warrant?”
“The letters ought to do it. We can demonstrate his undue interest in Nijinsky.”
“See Judge O’Neal,” Leary said. “She’s got a hair up her ass about anything to do with any crime against women. She’ll buy the letters.”
“Right.”
“What else you got?”
“Zip,” Dino replied.
Stone shrugged. “It’s not as though the effort hasn’t been made. Every single co-worker has been interviewed; every hospital, clinic, and funeral parlor in the city, Long Island, and New Jersey has been contacted. I want to go through all her stuff today, just as soon as we’ve searched Van Fleet’s place.”
“I buy the effort,” Leary said. “It’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
“It is,” Dino agreed. “I never knew of nobody going up the pipe like this broad. It’s spooky.”
“I’ll call the chief this morning; he’ll talk to the mayor. I’ll tell’em we need more time.”
“We do,” Stone said.
“Go to it.” Leary put his feet on his desk and picked up the telephone.
Stone followed Dino out of Leary’s office. “You call Judge O’Neal’s secretary for an appointment. I’ve got a call to make.” He sat down at his desk, dug out Cary’s card, and called her direct line. He got her on the first ring.
“Cary Hilliard.”
“Morning.”
“Well, good morning to you!” She was laughing.
“How are you?”
Her voice moved nearer the phone, and she whispered. “I’m sore as hell, and I feel great!”
“Same here”—Stone laughed—“but I’m not sure great describes it; it’s somewhere above that.”
“I’m free this evening,” she said.
“No you’re not; you’ve got a dinner date.”
“I’ll be done here by seven forty-five. Have you been to the Tribeca Grill?”
“Is that De Niro’s new place?”
“That’s it. Shall I book us a table?”
“Come to my house first, for a drink.”
“You’re on. I’ll book for nine o’clock. See you at eight.”
“You betcha.”
When Stone hung up, Dino was looking at him.
“You got laid, didn’t you?”
“What are you talking about?” Stone dissembled.