Стюарт Вудс - Standup Guy

“He was in town, now I hear he’s out of town, nobody knows where. Except, maybe, StonefuckingBarrington. Fratelli was seen in his neighborhood. I guess he needed legal advice, and StonefuckingBarrington had a street rep as a standup guy, who wouldn’t rat him out.”

“And that’s why you went to see Stone? To get him to do something you knew he wasn’t going to do?”

“I thought maybe he’d do it for a cut.”

“Stone’s up to his ass in money. He had a rich wife who lost an argument with a shotgun from an old lover.”

“So he told me,” Donnelly said. “Who knew?”

“I thought everybody did,” Dino said. “I guess you lead a sheltered life.”

“I guess.”

“Sean, who shot you?”

“Somebody who wants the same thing I do.”

“And who might that be?”

“I hadn’t gotten that far in my investigation before I got plugged.”

“No idea at all?”

“None. Hey . . .” He pointed at the windowsill. “Find out who sent me them flowers—maybe that’s the guy.”

Dino suppressed a laugh. “What, there was no card?”

“Dino, if I could get outta this bed, I’d kick your ass. Maybe when I do, I will, just for the fun of it.”

Dino stood up to go. “Not on your best day, Sean.”

“Go see some of your guinea pals—that’s who did this. They’ll tell you all about it, I’ll bet. Maybe give you a cut.”

Dino walked over, took the remote control from the bedside table, switched off the TV, and tossed the remote out the window. “You’ll enjoy the day more without tits, Sean.” He walked out of the room and slammed the door. Behind him he could hear Donnelly yelling for a nurse.

17

Stone got to P.J. Clarke’s early, so he bellied up to the bar to wait for the others. Charlie, the longest-serving of the bartenders, handed him a Knob Creek on the rocks without asking. “How you doing, Stone?”

“Not too bad,” Stone replied.

“How’s Dino? We don’t see him much since they moved him downtown.”

“He’s good, be here in a few minutes. You knew he got married?”

“I heard it, but I didn’t believe it.”

“Believe it.” Stone saw two guys in construction clothes and hard hats come through the door, take a look around at all the twenty-somethings in their designer clothes, and leave in disgust.

Charlie laughed. “Not our trade, I guess.”

“Charlie, I hear somebody took a shot at Sean Donnelly when he left here last night.”

“Yeah, when Sean’s here he doesn’t leave until we throw him out. I heard the shots and went out there and found him in the gutter, called nine-one-one. I thought he was going to croak.”

“I hear he didn’t.”

“Tell you the truth, t’wouldna been a loss, far as I’m concerned. I wish he’d drink somewheres else. He’s got a mouth on him, annoys the ladies.”

“You see anybody when you went outside?”

“I heard some rubber burn on Third Avenue, but Sean left by the side door, so I didn’t see anything.” Charlie took somebody else’s order and moved away.

“Did you say something about somebody getting shot here last night?” A woman’s voice from behind him.

Stone turned to find a tall woman in designer casual, pale red hair, freckled skin, handsome nose, big green eyes. “I did,” Stone said. “In the wee small hours of the morning, right out there.” He nodded in the direction of East Fifty-fifth.

“You a cop?” she asked. “You’re not dressed like one.”

“Used to be, in my extreme youth. Now I practice the law, instead of enforcing it.”

“I’m Hank Cromwell,” she said, offering a hand.

Stone shook it. “Hank?”

“My mother named me Henrietta. It didn’t take.”

“I’m Stone Barrington.”

“Sounds like a lawyer’s name.”

“You have something against lawyers?”

“Not a thing. Maybe that’s because I’ve never had to hire one.”

“You’ve led a blameless life, then?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as that. Let’s just say I never got caught.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an illustrator—books, magazines, advertising—wherever the work is.”

Stone handed her a cocktail napkin and his pen. “Illustrate something.”

She took the pen, made a few quick strokes, and handed back the napkin.

He found a recognizable sketch of himself, sparely drawn. “Okay, you’re an illustrator.”

“You thought I was lying?”

“I wanted to see if you’re any good. You are.” He looked up to see Dino and Viv getting out of Dino’s departmental black SUV on Third. “I’m meeting a couple for dinner. Would you like to join us?”

She shrugged. “Why not? I’m hungry.”

The couple came through the doors, and Stone introduced them to Hank, then they went to the back room and found their table.

“I’ll bet you two just met,” Dino said.

“Why do you say that?” Hank asked.

“Because no woman who already knows Stone would have dinner with him.”

“Calumny,” Stone said.

“I’m on Stone’s side,” Viv said to her. “Dino just likes to needle him.”

“I thought,” Hank replied.

“I went to see Sean Donnelly this afternoon,” Dino said.

“I hope he was in terrible pain and getting worse,” Stone replied.

“You were right about the roses, they were driving him nuts.”

“Did he tell you anything?”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Dino said.

“Somebody thinks he does.”

Hank broke in. “Is this the guy who got shot last night?”

“Right,” Dino said. “How’d you know?”

“I heard Stone talking to the bartender about it.”

“Charlie called nine-one-one, but he wasn’t too upset about it,” Stone said.

“Sean has that effect on people. By the way, he hates your guts, calls you StonefuckingBarrington.”

Stone laughed. “I choose my enemies well.”

“What about you, pal?” Dino asked.

“Me? What about me?”

“You had any . . . repercussions?”

“A couple of Secret Service agents showed up with a hundred-dollar bill that Joan deposited in my account.”

“Payment for legal advice?”

“You could say that. They felt that the bill was too old to be in my possession. It was printed sometime after 1966.”

“One of those with the red seal on them?”

“That’s it.”

“Should I mention that to Sean Donnelly?”

“You do, and I’ll shoot you in a painful place.”

Dino laughed.

“You guys lead interesting lives,” Hank said. “What do you do, Viv?”

“I used to be a cop, too, but these days I’m a security executive.”

“What’s that?”

“I work for a large security company called Strategic Services.”

“And you do what?”

“We secure things and people. How about you?”

“Illustrator.”

“She’s not kidding,” Stone said, producing the cocktail napkin with his portrait.

“Not bad,” Viv said.

“You missed the shifty eyes,” Dino pointed out.

Hank laughed. “Next time, I’ll make them shiftier.”

They ordered dinner and a bottle of wine. Four steaks and a lot of fries later, Stone invited them all back to his place for a nightcap. They rode in Dino’s car.

“Listen,” Dino said, as they got out at Stone’s house, “you should watch your ass for a while. Sean knows you’re mixed up with Fratelli, and if he knows, other people know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stone said.

“I know you’re not used to it these days, but you should start carrying.”

“I guess so,” Stone said.

18

Stone let them into the house, entered the alarm code, and took their coats.