“Hey!” Cantor said, looking around at the cameras and cable. “Looks like you’re doing Good Morning America from here.”

“Here’s the deal,” Stone said, pulling Cantor into the powder room and closing the door, then turning on the water. “A client of mine is being questioned here for four days, starting Monday morning. Their techs have installed all this stuff and God knows what else.”

“You mean you think they might have overdone it a bit?”

“That’s what I mean. I want you to sweep the whole house for bugs. If you find something, don’t disable it, but put yours alongside it. You can do that without wires, now, right?”

“Right. It will all be recorded in the van.”

“My deal with the questioners is that they will make two copies of the video and audio of the meetings and give me one.”

Cantor thought for a moment. “I only saw one recorder.”

“I’m not surprised,” Stone said, “so I want my own recordings of the sessions.”

“I can do that,” Cantor said.

“Go to it.” They departed the powder room and went their separate ways.

Cantor and a helper were hard at work when Stone left for Elaine’s.

Dino and Doris Trent were already at their table when Stone arrived, and Willa arrived a moment later.

“You know, I’ve heard about this place, but I’ve never been here,” Willa said. “It’s too far uptown for my crowd.”

Stone introduced the women to Elaine, who sat down for a minute. “So?” she said.

“Life is interesting,” Stone said.

“As bad as that, huh?”

“Maybe not.”

“Gotta go,” Elaine said, rising to greet another table of regulars who had just sat down.

“So that’s the famous Elaine,” Willa said.

“The one and only,” Stone replied.

“How’s the food?” she asked, fingering a menu.

“Better than you’ve heard,” Stone said. “The food critics get pissed off because they can’t get the good tables that are reserved for the regulars.”

A waiter appeared and took their drink order.

“Ah,” Stone said, looking toward the front door, where Herbie and his new wife were entering. “And now you get to meet the dangerous and deceptive Herbert Fisher.”

“You’re kidding,” Willa said.

The couple stopped at the table, and Stone made the introductions.

“I’m glad you can afford to eat out, Stone,” Stephanie said, “in your reduced circumstances.”

“I’m investment-reduced,” Stone replied amiably, “not dinner-reduced.”

The couple continued to their table.

“That was Herbie Fisher?” Willa asked.

“You expected a wild-eyed monster, huh?”

“Not exactly, but I didn’t expect a nebbish, either.”

“And a nebbish who married well,” Stone replied. “Stephanie is the daughter of Jack Gunn.”

“So he can afford the very best representation in criminal matters,” Willa said.

“I’m glad you understand that,” Stone replied.