“I’ve done some legal work for her,” Stone replied, and hoped she would leave it at that. “Tell me,” he said, “do you have a regular partner?”
“Tom Rabbit,” she said. “He’s due back from vacation tomorrow.”
“Good, because I think you’ll need some backup.”
“What’s he going to pose as?” Rita asked.
“Not as anything,” Mitzi said. “He wouldn’t fit into Derek Sharpe’s crowd. He’ll watch my back; he’ll be the cavalry that rides in if something goes wrong.”
“You make this sound dangerous,” Rita said.
“That’s unlikely,” Stone said, “but an undercover cop has to operate on the premise that he—or she, in this case—is in danger at all times. These things tend to have a happier ending if you think that way. Shall we have another bottle of champagne?”
They did.
18
THEY HAD FINISHED LUNCH
and the second bottle of champagne and were on coffee.
“Rita,” Stone said, “I need your help on something else.”
“What’s that?”
“I need to find Mitzi a temporary place in a good building on the Upper East Side, somewhere she can operate from. Her address will be the first thing Derek Sharpe will learn about her, and it has to impress him.”
Rita turned to Mitzi. “Mitzi, why don’t you just bunk with me? I live in my parents’ apartment in a nice building. They spend most of their time at their house in the Hamptons, and there are comfortable guest rooms.”
“Thank you, Rita,” Mitzi replied. “That’s very kind of you.”
Stone relaxed; that had gone just the way he had hoped. He heard the phone ring in the kitchen.
Helene stuck her head out the back door. “Phone for you, Mr. Stone!”
“Will you ladies excuse me?” Stone said. He took the call so they would have an opportunity to get to know each other better in his absence. He went into the kitchen, sat down at the counter, and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Brian Doyle.”
“Hey, Brian. Thanks for putting Mitzi on this. I’ve introduced her to a woman who can help her get to know the scene, and she now has the best address on Park Avenue.”
“That’s good news,” Brian said. “I have some of my own.”
“Shoot.”
“Mr. Mervin Pyle, aka Derek Sharpe, does not have a record under either of those names.”
“I’m surprised to hear it,” Stone said.
“Don’t be too surprised; he has records under three other names. Apparently our boy took to identity change as a way of life in his youth. He lived in Dallas, L.A., and San Francisco, where he managed an art gallery for a while.”
“What sort of stuff?”
“Burglary, embezzlement, battery, attempted murder, all under different names.”
“Did he do time?”
“Only while awaiting bail. His IDs were so good that, each time he pled out, and as, supposedly, a first offender, he got no jail time.”
Rita and Mitzi came into the kitchen, and Stone asked Brian to hang on.
“Do you mind if we have a look around your house?” Rita asked.
“Not at all. Explore to your heart’s content.”
She handed him a card. “You might have your secretary have some cards like this printed for Mitzi.”
Stone took the card: “71 East Seventy-first Street? I thought you lived on Park.”
“It’s the side-door address for those who want to be discreet. Maybe you should use 740 Park on her cards for Sharpe’s edification.”
“Sure.” The women wandered off, and Stone went back to his call. “I’m back.”
“I was particularly interested in the battery and attempted murder charges,” Brian said, resuming. “I got hold of a San Francisco detective who worked the latter case, and he told me that Sharpe has a very bad temper, especially when drinking, and he has a propensity for violence. The attempted murder case arose out of a fight between him and another guy he nearly beat to death. It took four cops to pull him off.”
“What was the battery charge about?”
“He beat up a girlfriend, and she called the cops.”
“Mitzi tells me her partner is out of town until tomorrow,” Stone said.
“And she won’t start until then,” Brian replied. “Her partner, Tom Rabbit, is a big Irish guy who can handle anything and who is very protective of her.”
“Brian, can you get her a car to be driven around in? Rabbit could be the chauffeur.”
“Good idea. Let me check the pound and see what we’ve confiscated lately.”
“You were right,” Stone said. “She’s a very bright lady. Oh, here’s her new address: 740 Park Avenue.” Then he read out the phone number.
Brian let out a low whistle. “How’d you swing
that
building? I read a book about that place.”
“It’s where Rita Gammage lives; Rita works for Philip Parsons.”
“Then she’s a very rich lady.”
“Or her parents are.”
“Same thing,” Brian said. “I gotta run. Tell Mitzi to call me later today, and I’ll check on a car.”
“Nothing too flashy,” Stone said. “Let’s not overdo it.”
“Gotcha.” Brian hung up.
Stone walked to his office, then down the hall to Joan’s room. “Can you get some of these printed in the name of Mitzi Reynolds? 740 Park Avenue? Same zip and phone. It’s a rush job.”
“Sure,” Joan said. “I’ll run them over to our printer and wait for them.” She grabbed her coat.
“On nice stock,” Stone said.
“I get it.” Joan was gone.
Stone walked back to the kitchen, where Helene was washing the champagne flutes by hand. “Where are the ladies?”
“Haven’t seen them,” Helene replied.
“That was a delicious lunch,” Stone said, and Helene beamed at him.
He walked up to the living room and had a look there and in his study: no sign of the women. He walked upstairs and looked into a couple of guest rooms, then continued on to the master. As he approached, the door was ajar, and he heard giggling. He opened the door and stood there, transfixed.
The two women were in his bed, and, judging from the pile of clothing on the floor, they weren’t wearing any. He didn’t know what to say.
Rita took up the slack. “Join us?” she said.
19
STONE WOKE SLOWLY
in a champagne-induced haze. He was in the middle of his bed, and the women were nowhere to be seen. Then he heard a laugh from his bathroom and heard the shower go on. He drifted off again.
HE AWOKE
to a pair of lips attached to each of his cheeks.
“We’re off,” Rita said.
“I’m off, too,” Stone replied sleepily.
“You were just great, Stone,” Mitzi said.
“Yes,” Rita said, “but for a moment I thought you were too shocked to accept our invitation.”
“Only for a moment,” Stone said
“We’ll be in touch,” Mitzi said, and the two women moved toward the stairs. Stone drifted off again.
THE PHONE WOKE
him a couple of hours later, and he reached for it.
“Hi, it’s Carrie.”
“Hi, there.”
“You sound sleepy.”
“Yeah, I had an afternoon nap,” he managed to say.
“Will you and Dino be at Elaine’s?”
“Sure, eight thirty.”
“May I join you?”
“Of course.”
“See you then.”
Stone hung up, turned on his side, and went back to sleep. He woke in the dark, switched on the bedside lamp, and stood up. He staggered a little before he caught himself; he felt as if he had just run a marathon. Well, he thought, he had, in a way. The bedside clock said almost eight, and he ran for the shower.
CARRIE WAS ALREADY
at the table with Dino when Stone walked in. He waved for a drink and sat down.
“You look different,” Carrie said, kissing him.
“Different?” He didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Completely relaxed,” she said. “It must have been a good nap.”
“It certainly was,” Stone replied.
“I talked to Brian,” Dino said. “Sounds like you got what you wanted.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
“What is he talking about?” Carrie asked.
“Just a little police operation downtown.”
“Is it a secret?”
“Yes.”
“I hate secrets; tell me.”
“Can’t. Lives are at stake.”
Carrie turned to Dino. “That’s a lie, isn’t it?”
“Nope,” Dino said. “Lives are at stake.”
“Oh,” Stone said, “I met someone who knew you at Agnes Scott College.”
“Who?”
Stone backtracked. “I can’t remember her name; she was from Charleston.”
“Mitzi somebody?”
“That sounds right.”
“She was a year or two ahead of me. She was very pretty.”
“She still is.”
Carrie’s eyes narrowed. “And how did you meet her?”
“I had lunch with a business associate, and she came along.”
“I’d love to see her. Did you get her number?”
“She went back to Charleston this afternoon, I believe.”
“Good.”
So much for changing the subject, Stone thought. He hadn’t seen Carrie jealous before, and it was a little scary. He remembered the straight razor. “How are rehearsals going?”
“I had a little contretemps with the choreographer today,” she said.
“He wanted me to do a move that would have broken my back.”
“And how did you handle that?”
“With a flat refusal, a display of temper, and a couple of bad words.”
“How did that work out?”
“He removed the move from the routine,” she said with some satisfaction. “I mean, I might have managed it when I was eighteen, but I know my body better than he does.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“
You
know it better than he does,” she said with a sly smile.
“Harrumph
,
”
Dino sputtered. “Too much information.”
“Oh, Dino, you’re sweet,” she said, laughing.
“Was that the only problem?” Stone asked.
“There was an unwelcome twist,” she said. “He asked my understudy to demonstrate the move for me. Her name is Melissa Kelley, and she’s in the chorus, and if he weren’t gay I would suspect something between them.”
“And she was able to do the move?” Dino asked, now fascinated.
“Perfectly,” Carrie said, “the bitch. I could have throttled her.”
“It’s probably better if you don’t throttle anybody,” Dino said. “Then I’d have to get involved.”
Carrie laughed. “It’s okay, Dino; she tried to apologize after rehearsal, but it came out all wrong. I mean, what was she going to say—‘I’m sorry I could do the move and you can’t’?”
“I can see how that could be awkward,” Stone said.
“She watches me all the time,” Carrie said. “It’s unsettling.”
“Maybe she’s just working very hard to learn your part,” Stone offered.
“No, it’s more like
All About Eve.
You know the movie? The young actress wants everything the star has, including her lover?”
“I remember it well.”
“You’ll meet her eventually,” Carrie said. “When you do, watch yourself.”
“I’ll be very careful,” Stone said solemnly.
“So, what’s Mitzi up to?” Carrie asked.
“She didn’t say a lot.”
“She has a rich daddy, I recall.”
“She said he was in the shrimp business.”
“That sounds right. You’re sure she went back to Charleston?” Stone shrugged. “I believe so. She had to leave lunch early to catch her plane.”