Stuart Woods - Kisser

“I’ll give you more than that.”

“Bye-bye.” Stone hung up and groaned. “When it rains, it pours,” he said aloud to himself.

DINO WAS more cheerful than usual. They had met at P. J. Clarke’s for lunch and were having burgers and beers.

“You’re in a good mood,” Stone said.

“Ben got accepted at Choate,” Dino said, speaking of his son.

“Congratulate him for me.”

“I will.”

“Doesn’t this mean you’ll see him less often?”

“Well, yeah, but it means I’ll have to deal with Mary Ann less often, too. No squabbles about which days I see him or what we do together.”

“I’m sure Eduardo will miss him.” Eduardo Bianci was Dino’s ex-father-in-law, a very rich man who had been-perhaps still was-a major Mafia figure, but who had been very discreet about it, ruling from afar.

“That’s true, and I feel for the old man. I’ll make sure Ben sees his grandfather when he’s home.”

“How is Eduardo?”

“Amazingly well. For a man his age, I’d guess you’d say he’s in robust good health. I’m sure he’d appreciate a call from you.”

“I’ll call him today.”

“How’s it going with Carrie?”

“She’s wearing me down,” Stone replied. “Literally.”

“You lead such a tough existence,” Dino said.

“You don’t know the half of it. What are you doing for female company since splitting the blanket with Genevieve?”

“Catch as catch can,” Dino replied.

“As long as you catch a few.”

“There’s the desk sergeant at the 19th,” Dino said. “We have a nice evening about once every week or two. Keeps the machinery oiled and working.”

“She’s the one who ended your marriage, isn’t she?”

“No. Mary Ann took care of that; Sarge was just the excuse.”

“Is that what you call her?”

“In bed as a joke.”

“What’s her real name?”

“Madge Petrillo.”

“Not married, is she?”

“Nah, divorced. I think she may be banging the captain, too, but if so, they’re very, very discreet.”

“Busy lady.”

“You know it. How’s the Derek Sharpe operation going?”

“It’s going. Mitzi’s a smart cop; she’s handling it very well. I’m just trying to stay out of the way.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Well, I’ve seen Sharpe with her a couple of times, and I give her advice.”

“That’s very fatherly of you. What else is going on there?”

“Let’s not get into that,” Stone said, a little embarrassed.

“Oh, so that’s what’s going on.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“What, you think I condemn you for sleeping with more than one woman at a time?”

“It’s your Catholic upbringing,” Stone said.

“I got over that a long time ago,” Dino replied.

“Catholics never get over it. I’ll bet you still go to confession.”

“Every couple of years, maybe. I love shocking the priest.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not Catholic,” Dino said. “At confession, you’d give a priest a heart attack.”

“You’re right. It’s a good thing I’m not Catholic; I’m not sure I could bear the guilt.”

“Guilt is very important,” Dino said. “It keeps you on the fairly straight and narrow.”

“The fairly straight and narrow? I like that.”

“So do I,” Dino said.

They split the check and walked outside, where Dino’s unmarked car with driver awaited him.

“You want a lift?” Dino asked.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll walk home, get some exercise.”

“I thought you were getting lots of exercise,” Dino said, laughing.

“Well, the cardiovascular thing is important,” Stone said.

“See you later.” Dino got into his car and was driven away.

Stone walked home and entered through the outside door to his office.

Joan flagged him down. “Eduardo Bianci’s secretary called. He would like you to come to lunch at his home tomorrow at noon.”

Eduardo was a mind reader, Stone thought. “Say that I accept with pleasure.”

STONE DROVE OUT to the far reaches of Brooklyn to the elegant Palladian house with a view of the water that was the home of Eduardo Bianci.

Stone’s relationship with Eduardo went back some years, to a time that predated even his brief marriage to Eduardo’s daughter, Dolce. Dolce was an extraordinarily beautiful woman who turned out to be deeply disturbed, with homicidal tendencies, which were directed mostly at Stone and cost him considerable discomfort, including the pain of a bullet wound. Dolce, now safely ensconced in a suite of rooms in Eduardo’s house, was tended by an elderly aunt and professional nursing help. No one but Eduardo had seen her for years.

Stone was admitted to the house by Eduardo’s wizened butler, who, according to Dino, previous to-and perhaps after-his employment by Eduardo, had pursued a highly successful career as an assassin, specializing in the Sicilian stiletto. He greeted Stone with a tight smile, or grimace, depending on interpretation, and led him to the rear garden, where Eduardo waited, seated at an umbrella-shaded table near the edge of the pool.

Eduardo, who was unaccustomed to rising for anyone short of the Holy Father, did not rise but extended a slender hand and gave Stone a warm handshake and a broad smile, revealing either amazing teeth or gorgeous dental work, Stone had never figured out which. He was dressed, as usual, in a dark suit, a white silk shirt, and a muted pin-dotted necktie.

“Stone,” Eduardo said in his smooth, rich baritone-the voice of a much younger man-“how very good to see you. It has been far too long.”

Stone took a seat. “It’s good to see you, too, Eduardo. Oddly enough, I was on the point of telephoning you yesterday when I returned from lunch and got your message. You’re looking extremely well.”

“I am extremely well for a person of my age,” Eduardo said,

“and I am grateful to my ancestors for the genes passed down to me. My father lived to a hundred and three, and my mother only a year short of that. When she died, my father remarried shortly afterward to a woman of fifty. He told me he had considered a woman of thirty-five but did not wish to be burdened with more children at his age.”

Stone laughed. The butler appeared with an ice bucket, opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio, and poured them each a glass. “I hear from Dino that Benito has been accepted to Choate, which is wonderful news.”

“Yes, though it means I will see him less often. I think it will be good, though, for him to be out of the city and in the companionship of boys who will grow into leaders in this country.”

“I’m sure he will fare well in their midst,” Stone replied.

“I have great plans for the boy,” Eduardo said.

“Oh? Have you already chosen a profession for him?”

“Not those sorts of plans,” Eduardo said, shaking his head. “He will excel at whatever work he chooses. Eventually, he will, with my advice and that of his mother, look after my interests until they become his own.”

“What are your interests these days, Eduardo?”

Eduardo permitted himself a small laugh. “You are curious, aren’t you, Stone?”

“I confess, I am.”

“My interests are broad and deep, ranging from Wall Street, which has been a disappointment lately, to Silicon Valley, with many stops in between.”

“Are you still involved in banking?”

Eduardo shook his head slowly. “No. At a board meeting many months ago I heard of this awful bundling of mortgages. I looked into it and immediately resigned from three boards and sold all my bank shares over a period of weeks, well before the crash. A bit later, I moved to cash in the market. Now I have begun to buy again, companies with futures and at very good prices.”