Stuart Woods: Fresh Disasters

“My mistake.”

“Everybody makes it. When are you having another show?”

“I opened one a couple of weeks ago, but it’s sold out, so we’re closing it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’d love to have seen it.”

“I have a number of pieces at my studio. Maybe I can show them to you after dinner.”

“I’d like that,” she said.

The headwaiter came over. “Your usual table is ready, Mr. Daltry. May I take your drinks over?”

“Of course, Eddie. We’re right behind you.”

They stood up and followed the man toward the table.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you that I’m so tall,” Willa said. “It bothers a lot of men.”

“Not in the least,” Daltry replied smoothly. “In fact, I’m rather partial to tall women.”

Dino’s cell phone rang again. “Excuse me,” he said, flipping it open. “Bacchetti.”

“It’s Bernstein, Lieutenant.”

“Update?”

“They’ve just sat down to dinner. He’s already invited her to his studio afterwards, and she’s accepted. Do you want us to let her do that?”

Dino thought for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “She’s doing a great job so far; we have to believe she can take care of herself if she goes back to his place.”

“Well, she’s half again as big as he is,” Bernstein said. “She ought to be able to handle him.”

“Joe Dowdell and Hank Ortega are in the other car, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, you just be sure that the four of you-sorry, five, I forgot about Pointer-are ready to go in there pronto if anything happens. She’s got a code word if she gets into trouble, right?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. She’ll say ‘My back hurts’ if she needs us.”

“As soon as they’re inside his building, find a way in; it’ll save time if she needs help.”

“Will do, Lieutenant.”

Dino hung up, and Genevieve was staring at him oddly. “Am I to understand that you have a female police officer who’s going to Devlin Daltry’s studio?”

“Yes, I do,” Dino said.

“Well,” Genevieve said, “I think that’s a very big mistake.”

“What?” Dino asked.

“I went there once, and I almost didn’t get out alive. And believe me, I know how to take care of myself.”

Stone’s cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the caller I.D. number. “Hello?”

“It’s Dierdre.”

“Hi.”

“Dattila’s out of jail.”

“ What ?”

“His lawyer got a judge to release him, based on the fact that, since Gus’s death and Herbie’s disappearance, we have no witnesses against him.”

“But there’s the tape of Dattila ordering Herbie’s death.”

“The lawyer claimed they would show at trial that it’s fabricated.”

“Did Dattila buy a judge or something?”

“I don’t think the judge can be faulted. Dattila’s lawyer is right, except about the tape. It’s not fabricated, is it?”

“No, it’s genuine.”

“Have you heard from Herbie?”

“Not a word.”

“I know I’m not supposed to say this about my witness, but tell him he’d be smart to leave town. Dattila is going to spare no effort to see him dead. We got a tip that word has gone out to his people all over town: There’s a hundred grand on Herbie’s head.”

“There ought to be a hundred grand on Dattila’s head.”

“This is my third try at getting the guy, and I’ve never even gone to trial.”

“I can imagine how you must feel.”

“No, you can’t. If you hear from Herbie, tell him to scamper. After what happened at the hotel I’m not at all sure we can protect him.”

“I’ll give him the message.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.” Stone hung up and turned to Dino. “Dattila is out, and if what Dierdre says is true, Herbie’s as good as dead.”

Willa watched while Devlin Daltry unlocked three deadbolts on a huge steel door and let them into his building. They were on the ground floor, which was being used as a garage. Daltry pressed a button, and a freight elevator descended.

“That’s a very big elevator,” Willa said, for the benefit of her colleagues.

“Some of my pieces are of heroic proportions,” Daltry said, as they started up. “I couldn’t get them out of the studio without this.”

She counted three floors as they rose. “You live and work on the top floor?”

“Yes.”

“What’s on the others?”

“Not much, some office help on one. I’m thinking of converting the other two to lofts and selling them.”

They stopped at the fourth floor and stepped into an enormous room.

“My goodness,” Willa said, actually overwhelmed. The space was furnished as a living room, and at the other end she could see a professional-style kitchen. “This is fantastic.” She pointed at the kitchen. “You must do a lot of cooking.”

“I don’t cook at all, actually, but I need the kitchen for parties. The caterers love it. Come, I’ll show you my studio.”

They walked for perhaps half a block and passed through huge double doors into an artist’s studio that she could not have imagined. First of all, contrary to her notion of what an artist’s studio was like, it was spotlessly clean and extremely neat. Double-height windows rose to receive the north light, and scattered around the space were pieces of Daltry’s work, some already cast, some still in clay.

“You are obsessively neat, aren’t you?” Willa said.

Daltry seemed to take umbrage at the characterization. “I am not obsessive about anything,” he said defensively. “I simply like to live in an orderly world.”

Willa’s attention was riveted on a bronze of a very tall woman, missing its head. “What is that?”

“Oh, I was unhappy with the way the head turned out, so I’m going to redo it.”

“After it’s already cast?”

“It can be done. Would you like to see the rest of my home?”

“Yes, thank you. Is there still another level?”

“Yes. The elevator only goes to the fourth floor, but the stairs lead one more flight up.”

“Don’t go to his bedroom,” Bernstein said into her ear.

“Is that where your bedroom is?”

“Yes, but there’s more. I don’t need the sort of living spaces that occupy this floor; they’re just for work and entertaining. There’s another complete apartment upstairs.”

“Don’t do it,” Bernstein said.

“I’d love to see it,” she said to Daltry.

Dino’s cell phone rang. “Bacchetti.”

“Boss, it’s Bernstein. She’s inside Daltry’s place, and against my advice, she’s going up to the level where his bedroom is.”

“Are you inside yet?”

“We’re having hell’s own time getting in. There are three Assa locks in a steel door, and we haven’t been able to pick even one of them. A crowbar didn’t work, either.”

“Then break a goddamned window or something,” Dino said. “Be a burglar! His alarm system probably isn’t on while he’s home.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Dino hung up. “She’s locked inside Daltry’s building with him, and my people are having a hard time getting in.”

“Oh, my God,” Genevieve said. “I hope she’s armed.”

“I hope she is, too,” Dino said. “Since she’s undercover, she may not be.”

Stone’s cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“Stone, it’s me.”

“Herbie! Where the hell are you? Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not, and I’m not about to tell you where I am. The last time I told you where I was I nearly got killed.”

“Herbie, I didn’t tell anybody where you were. In fact, you never told me, remember?”

“Well, somebody knew, and he told Dattila.”