Стюарт Вудс - Indecent Exposure

“Is that really all you can suggest, Mr. Barrington?”

“Or,” Stone said, “your client could adapt himself to his environment, allow the staff to find him earnest and cooperative, and let good behavior work its magic on the length of his sentence. Otherwise, I would advise him to avoid fights and bending over in the shower, unless he wishes to invite the attentions that that sort of behavior elicits.”

Stone placed his palms on his desk and rose. “Now, Mr. Teppi, unless you wish me to draw your will or perform some other conventional legal service, I believe I have done all I can do for you.”

Teppi rose slowly and thoughtfully and shook Stone’s hand again. “Thank you for the courtesy of your time, Mr. Barrington.” He turned to go.

“Oh, Mr. Teppi, might the name of your client be Danny Blaine?”

Teppi blinked. “Why, yes,” he said.

“I rather thought it might be,” Stone replied, then he sat down and pretended to work until Alphonse Teppi had made his exit.

When Stone had stopped chuckling to himself, he phoned Dino.

“Bacchetti.”

“Dino, have you ever heard of someone called Alphonse Teppi?”

The clicking of computer keys ensued. “All I can tell you about him is that he has never been arrested,” Dino said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because a person calling himself that just walked into my office and pretty much asked me, straight out, to bribe Danny Blaine out of Fishkill.”

“How much did you charge him?” Dino asked.

“Let me put it this way — my boot may still be lodged in his ass.”

“You’re such a disappointment to me, Stone. You and I could have dined out for a year on the proceeds of that conversation.”

Stone and Gloria Parsons were dining out at Rôtisserie Georgette, uptown from him, and were awaiting delivery of a plump roast hen. They were on their second drink.

“Now that we’re all settled in,” he said, “tell me how your Mr. Teppi came to believe that I would bribe people to get your pal Danny out of Fishkill.”

“Mr. Teppi has a mind of his own,” she replied smoothly.

“Then tell me how he came to choose me to make his proposal.”

“I may have mentioned your name in passing.”

“Kindly refrain from mentioning my name to such people,” he said, “in passing or in any regard.”

“I have just mentioned it to some three million people,” she said, “and that is only in the contiguous forty-eight states.”

“What’s the matter, are there no pseudo-sophisticates in Alaska, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, and Samoa?”

“They’re not worth the postage,” she replied. She withdrew a magazine from her purse and handed it across the table. “Come to think of it, neither are you, so I’m delivering it personally.”

Stone was greeted with the photograph of Holly and himself taken in Georgetown. “Jesus Christ,” he said.

“What’s the matter, don’t you enjoy being a cover girl?”

“I had imagined this would rate a column or less on the page with the truss and erectile dysfunction ads,” he said, flipping the magazine open and finding that the interview with him covered three and a half pages, with photos from his college yearbook, his NYPD ID, one next to an old airplane, and one from his extreme youth, of him playing touch football in Central Park in which all the other players were girls. “Where the hell did you come up with all this?”

“Well, I did take a rather nice one of you naked on your back in bed, but my editor said you weren’t well endowed enough for our centerfold.”

“Please thank her for her discretion.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

“When I read this, am I going to want to sue you?”

“I hope that what you will want to do to me rhymes with ‘sue,’” she said, tickling his crotch with a stockinged toe.

He laughed in spite of himself. “I want you to stop that fairly soon.”

Their chicken was presented, and they began dismembering it.

“To get back to Mr. Blaine, why the hell are you so hot to get him out? From what I’ve read about him, he richly deserves his sentence.”

“He is my friend, and I am a loyal person.”

“If you aren’t careful you’re going to end up in a cell of your own for your efforts on his behalf. I mean, Mr. Teppi could have contacted an attorney who has the police commissioner for a friend.”

“Those are the chances one must take to help a friend.”

“What about his partner in crime, Spike Whatshisname? Is he an old high school chum, as well?”

“Danny is my friend. Spike is Danny’s. It stops there.”

“Tell me, what happened to the millions these two filched from eager home buyers?”

She stopped chewing. “Do you suspect me of dark motives?”

“I was trained as a cop, I reflexively suspect people of darker motives than friendship.”

“I suspect they spent it on booze and loose women,” she said. “Neither of them has ever struck me as an investor.”

“A dozen or more apartments that sold for between half a million and a million — that’s a ton of money when you add it up. Did they have expensive lawyers?”

“I doubt it. They suggested that I might contribute to their defense fund, but I declined. Whoever they hired advised them to plead out, and it doesn’t take a Stone Barrington to handle that.”

“Do they really think you can get them out?”

“There’s no ‘them,’ for me, just Danny. Spike can go rot, for all I care. Danny has a child-like faith in me, and I dislike disappointing him.”

“What other jams have you gotten him out of over the years of your cherished friendship?”

“Nothing that a little flirting with a school principal couldn’t fix.”

“I’m sure you could bat your eyelashes and his eyes would glaze over.”

“You’re a good judge of character,” she replied.

The waiter spirited away the remains of the chicken and brought a complimentary dessert from Georgette.

“By the way,” she said as he paid the bill, “I argued with my editor about your endowment.”

“Oh?”

“I explained to her that skill trumps size.”

“That’s very sweet of you. I hope that didn’t make it into your piece.”

“It’s not information I would want to share with our readers,” she said. “You might never have time to see me again.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? What are you doing right now?”

“I am at your disposal,” she replied.

Stone ran outside and threw himself in front of a cab.

Stone was at his desk the following morning, feeling a little sore from his exertions the previous night, when Joan buzzed him.

“Madam Secretary on one for you.”

Stone pressed the button. “Yes?”

“Will you speak to Secretary Barker?” the chilly woman asked.

“At all times,” he replied, “you don’t need to ask.”

“I need to ask at all times, Mr. Barrington,” she replied, and there was a click.

“Good morning.”

“And good morning to you, Madam Secretary.”

“I’m getting used to being called that,” she said.

“All right,” he said, “but never in bed.”

“Careful.”

He hadn’t thought about that. “Still saving the world?”

“Every day, from seven to seven more or less. I had a call from Kate’s secretary this morning. She and the family are available for a holiday cruise.” She suggested dates.

“Confirmed,” Stone said.

“They would like to fly into Key West Naval Air Station, then take a helicopter from there directly to the yacht, which should be docked at the Coast Guard facility in Key West.