“Then let’s get there first.”
“Okay,” Cantor said. “The place is open twenty-four/seven, but let’s wait until this evening, when the workday is over. Can the two of us handle it?”
“I’ll get Dino to come with us. You want to pick us up?”
“Okay. Seven-thirty.”
“See you then.”
“I’ll bring some coveralls, so you guys won’t look like who you are.”
“Good idea.” Stone hung up and called Dino. “I think we found the secretary,” he said.
“Where?”
“In a storage facility downtown. Cantor and I are going to pick it up, and we need your help.”
“So now I’m a furniture mover?”
“I’ll buy dinner. Be here at seven-thirty sharp.”
“Oh, what the hell, okay.”
Stone and Dino were standing on the curb at seven-thirty, when Bob Cantor pulled up in his van. He tossed them both coveralls, and they put them on and got in.
“How long is this going to take?” Dino asked as they drove downtown.”
“I don’t know. An hour, maybe,” Stone replied.
“So we’ll have dinner after?”
“Dino, we’ve got to deliver the piece to Barton Cantor in Connecticut.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t have to come along; we just need your help getting the thing in the van. Barton will help us get it out.”
“I’ll go; I hate eating alone.”
“Maybe we’ll have dinner up there.”
They arrived at Sutton Moving amp; Storage, and presented themselves at the night desk on the loading dock.
“We’re here to pick up something from Mr. Charles Crow’s locker,” Cantor said. “Number three-twenty. His secretary called.”
The man consulted a list. “Nothing on here for tonight.”
“Sure there is,” Cantor said.
“Oh, here it is. It’s scheduled for eight A.M.”
“Nah, she told you eight P.M.”
“She didn’t tell me nothing; I just came on half an hour ago.”
“Well, whoever took the call screwed up and put down A.M. instead of P.M. You going to make a big deal out of this and piss off Mr. Crow?”
“Nah, what do I care? Go on up. You know where it is?”