Joan came into his office, grinning. “That’s wonderful!” she said. “I love it.”
“You were listening to my phone conversation?”
“You betcha.”
“Didn’t you ever hear of the Constitution of the United States?”
“Vaguely.”
“It says you can’t do that; I have a right to privacy.”
“Not from me, you don’t; I know everything about you.”
“Not everything.”
“What I don’t know isn’t worth knowing,” she said, and sauntered back to her office.
Stone dug out Celia’s number and called her.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Stone.”
“Thank you for last evening,” she said. “I enjoyed myself.”
“So did I. Let’s do it again.”
“When?”
“Tonight?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Great. Where do you want to meet?”
“Does your house have a kitchen?”
“Of course, a very nice one.”
“Let’s meet there; I’ll cook dinner for you.”
“You talked me into it.”
“Seven?”
“Perfect. Can I shop for anything for you?”
“I’ll bring everything but the wine.”
“I’ve already got that.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.” Stone hung up feeling better.
15
Bob Cantor packed his car and left his Brooklyn apartment.