Стюарт Вудс - Barely Legal

“And I’d handle the case,” Herbie said with a smile. “But that’s not going to happen. We’re very happy.”

“Would you care to join us?” Stone said.

Yvette and Herbie looked at each other. They clearly wished to be alone.

Yvette politely declined. “Thanks, but we’ve got a lot to talk about. Come on, Herbie.”

The happy couple chose a table for two in the back and out of earshot.

“I notice she can call him Herbie,” Dino said.

“Was that nice?” Stone said.

“Was what nice?”

“You were vetting her.”

“Was I?”

“You know you were.”

Dino shrugged. “Force of habit.”

“No, it wasn’t. You’re suspicious of her.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you kidding me? Ten years ago Herbie was a total fuckup, couldn’t tie his shoe. He’d make the worst choices, often endangering his life.”

“So?”

“That was nothing compared to his taste in women. He was always showing up with some hooker or other he was madly in love with, despite the fact that he had just met her.”

Stone conceded the point. “He even went so far as to marry one.”

Herbie’s ex-wife had run off to Aruba with her brother, not to mention a few million dollars of company assets, leaving Herbie holding the bag.

“I remember it well. So, here he is, popping up again with a new fiancée. If that’s not déjà vu, I don’t know what is.”

“At least this one isn’t a hooker. She looks like a very nice young girl.”

“I hope so,” Dino said.

“You’re really concerned.”

“Well, I’d hate to see Herbie get his heart broken. Is that bad?”

“It’s kind of sweet,” Stone said.

Dino threw a napkin at him.

On the sidewalk outside Patroon, Mario Payday’s goon Carlo leaned up against the window and pressed his face to the glass. The young man at the table in the back certainly appeared to be Herbie Fisher. Of course, it was hard to tell with the picture he had to work with. As usual, in identifying one of Mario Payday’s new clients, Carlo had gone right to the source and checked his arrest record. Herbie had one, but his mug shot wasn’t very good. The young man in the restaurant looked a lot better than the one in the photo. Of course, at the time the photo was taken he’d just been picked up on a charge of murder, which couldn’t have helped. According to the rap sheet, he’d been charged with killing a mobster named Carmine Dattila, commonly known as Dattila the Hun. Carlo remembered the incident. The guy had marched into Dattila’s place of business and shot him twice in the head in front of a dozen witnesses. Carlo couldn’t imagine the young man at the table doing that. He couldn’t imagine anyone doing it and beating the rap. Some things, Carlo told himself, just weren’t fair.

Carlo whipped out his cell phone and called Mario.

“I got him.”

“Got who?”

“Your ninety-thousand-dollar marker. I found him having dinner.”

“Where?”

“Patroon. Guy’s cleaned up his act some since his last arrest, but it sure looks like him.”

“Does he look like he could pay ninety grand?”

“Sure does, unless it’s all for show.”

“Okay. Make sure it’s him. If it is, loosen him up.”

“Okay.”

Carlo hung up the phone and went in. A man sitting near the door looked familiar, but Carlo couldn’t place him. He walked on by and headed for the table in the back of the restaurant.

The young couple were speaking intimately, their heads tilted toward each other, laughing. Carlo would have to spoil their fun. That didn’t bother him. Spoiling people’s fun was a fringe benefit of the job.

Carlo walked up to the table and said, “Herbie Fisher?”

They looked up.

The girl frowned.

The guy said, “ Herb Fisher.”

Carlo shrugged. “Whatever. Mr. Fisher, you owe me ninety thousand dollars.”

The girl was clearly upset. She looked at the young man and said, “Herbie, what’s going on?”

“Mister,” Herbie said, “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t owe you ninety thousand dollars.”

“Fair enough. You owe my boss , and he intends to collect. He wanted me to give you advance notice because he is a very nice guy and likes to give fair warning.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must have me confused with someone else.”

“Herb Fisher? It is Herb Fisher, isn’t it?” Carlo slapped the rap sheet down on the table. “This is you, isn’t it?”

Herbie got to his feet. “All right. You get the hell out of here.”

“Or what?”

“There’s no what. You’re going to leave under your own power, or I’ll have you thrown out.”

“Have me thrown out? Oh, big man. What, you gonna call the chef?”

At the table in front, Stone Barrington looked over Dino’s shoulder. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“Looks like trouble.”

Dino turned to look. The two men were facing off. “That doesn’t look good. You think Herbie would welcome an intervention? Or you think he wants to show off in front of his girl?”

“I’m sure Patroon would welcome an intervention.”

Dino got to his feet and started for the back.

Herbie saw Dino and put up his hand. “It’s okay. I got this.”

Carlo looked to see who was coming up behind him. It was the man who’d been sitting at the front table, the guy who’d looked familiar.

The penny dropped.

It was the commissioner of police!

Carlo shied away from Dino and crashed into Herbie. Herbie grabbed ahold of him to keep them both from going down. Carlo tried to break free, but Herbie had him by the arm. This was not good. Mario would not be pleased if he let himself get picked up by the commissioner of police.

Carlo reached under his jacket and pulled out a snub-nosed revolver.

“Look out, he’s got a gun!” Dino yelled.

Herbie spun Carlo away, taking Yvette out of the line of fire.

Carlo’s finger twisted around the trigger.

The gun went off.

The sound was deafening in the crowded restaurant.

The bullet missed everyone and plowed into the wall.

The shock of the gunshot made Herbie lose his grip. Carlo spun away, ducked past Dino Bacchetti, and charged down the aisle.

Stone stuck out his foot.

Carlo went down, rolled once, and came up in full panic mode. He fired another shot over his shoulder, lunged out the door, and pelted down the street as if the devil were at his heels.

The cops ruined dinner. Any way you sliced it, a romantic evening was not in the offing with ballistics experts digging bullets out of walls and detectives taking witness statements.

The detective taking Herbie’s was rather arrogant. His attitude gave the impression he didn’t believe a word Herbie said.

Of course, the fact that they had Herbie’s rap sheet didn’t help.

“The man said you owed him money?”

“That’s what he said.”

“But you don’t?”

“I don’t even know who he is.”

“If you don’t know who he is, how can you be sure you don’t owe him money?”

“I don’t owe anyone money.”

“That’s a rather broad statement. Couldn’t you have some debt you forgot about?”

“He said I owed him ninety thousand dollars. I’d be apt to remember that.”

“And he slapped your rap sheet on the table?”

“That’s right.”

The detective held it up. “This is your rap sheet?”

“I told you it was. I pointed it out to you.”

“You committed all these crimes?”

“Hardly any of them. You’ll notice most of the charges were dismissed.”