Stone got up, still groggy, and got into a shower. He emerged feeling brighter. The phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Dino. Dinner?”
“Sure, meet me at Elaine’s. Lance Cabot will be there.”
“No shit? The CIA guy?”
“One and the same.”
“How’d Herbie’s courtroom appearance go?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Stone told him.
“I don’t believe it.”
“See?”
“Goldstein did that? I thought he was Mr. Ironass.”
“Lance says he’s a patriot.”
“He’s lucky Goldstein didn’t have him arrested on the spot. I wouldn’t mess with that guy on a bet, especially about a DUI.”
“A DUI that included violence upon the crotch of a police officer. Turns out the cop was Dierdre Monahan’s little brother, and she caught the case.”
“You’re lucky Lance showed up.”
“Herbie was lucky. I had negotiated thirty days in Rikers for him, and he got off with a suspended sentence because of whatever Lance said to Goldstein.”
“Go figure.”
“Yeah. Eight-thirty?”
“See ya.” Dino hung up.
Holly came back into the room, this time, to Stone’s disappointment, fully dressed. “Is there some sort of park that’s closer to your house than Central Park?” she asked.
“Not so’s you’d notice it,” Stone said. “In Manhattan, a park is often the space where a building used to be. By the way, did I mention the leash law?”
“No, but I figured. Not in the park, of course.”
“Especially in the park. It’s a hundred-buck fine.”
“That’s cruel to dogs.”
“And to dog owners.”
“You’re perfectly serious about this?”
“You didn’t believe me about picking up the dog poop, either, did you? We do things differently in New York.”
“This is taking some getting used to.”