“Not a bad place to be,” the commissioner said with a little smirk.
“She’s a very competent detective,” Stone said, not wishing to mention her other area of expertise.
“I’m going uptown,” the commissioner said. “Can I give you a lift?”
“Thank you, sir, yes,” Stone said. A detective came out of the office with Stone’s coat and umbrella. They took the elevator to the basement garage and got into the commissioner’s black Lincoln, which followed a black SUV and led another, and shortly they were motoring through driving rain. Stone kept quiet, knowing that the commissioner didn’t like small talk.
“How come you never made detective first grade?” the commissioner asked suddenly.
Stone was surprised he knew that. “I was due for promotion at the time I was retired for medical reasons,” Stone said.
“Bullet to the knee, wasn’t it?”
“That and a lot of precinct politics,” Stone said. “I disagreed with the direction an investigation was taking, and somebody wanted me out. The knee was an excuse.”
“Ah, yes, the Nijinsky investigation. I heard some stuff about it at the time,” the commissioner said. “I was captain of the First Precinct, and shortly after that I got moved up the ladder. I reread the file when Doyle wanted you reactivated. I know how to read between the lines. If it’s any consolation, I added an addendum, correcting the impression your captain left in it.”
“Thank you, sir,” Stone said, surprised. “That was very kind of you.”
“I hear you’ve done all right since leaving the department,” the commissioner said.
“I can’t complain,” Stone said.
“You might have done better, if you’d had Brian Doyle’s political instincts.”
Stone said nothing.
“Doyle will go far,” the commissioner said, “but only so far. Somebody will cut him off at the knees before he gets to my office.”
“There’s usually somebody willing to do that,” Stone agreed.
The car came to a halt in front of Stone’s house. He had forgotten how fast a police motorcade could move through traffic.
The commissioner shook Stone’s hand. “Try not to let anybody get hurt in this investigation,” he said, holding on to Stone’s hand. “That’s not the sort of thing Doyle thinks about.”
“I’ll do my best,” Stone said. “Thank you for the lift.”
Stone opened the car door, got his umbrella outside first, and ran for his office door.
Joan looked surprised to see him back. “How’d it go?” she asked.
Stone hung up his wet coat. “Better than I could have hoped,” he said. “The commissioner is a better guy than I had thought.”
The phone began ringing.
46
JOAN HANDED THE CALL OFF to Stone. “Hello?”
“It’s Mitzi.”
“Hi.”
“Where did you go?”
“The commissioner wanted to talk to me, and he offered me a ride uptown.”
“Brian is livid.”