“So what? There are a lot of civilians here, too.”
“If you consider assistant DA’s civilians. Who’s the tall guy by the fireplace?”
“Tom Deacon. He runs the DA’s investigative division.”
“I don’t like him,” Stone said.
“Have you ever even met him?”
“No.”
“What the hell is the matter with you lately?”
“He’s got shifty eyes.”
“He’s with the DA, isn’t he?”
The party had clearly been going on for some time, because there was no food left, and everybody had had several drinks. Stone was as drunk as any of them but not as gregarious. He looked for a quiet corner. He left Dino with Dana Brougham and walked through a pair of double doors, into a handsome library. A pair of leather wing chairs faced each other before a cheerful fire, and Stone headed for one. He sat down, glad to be alone; then he saw that the other chair was occupied.
A chestnut-haired woman in a pin-striped suit sat with her legs pulled under her, reading by firelight from a leather-bound book. She glanced at him, raised her glass a millimeter in greeting, then went back to her book.
“You’ll ruin your eyes,” Stone said.
She gazed at him for a moment. “You’ve changed, Mom.”
“Sorry. What are you reading?”
“
“I haven’t read that since high school,” he said.
“I haven’t read it at all,” she replied.
“It seemed terribly erotic at sixteen, but then almost everything did.”
She smiled a little but didn’t look up. “I remember.”
“Where were you when you were sixteen?”
“At Spence.”
Spence was a very tony Manhattan private school.
“And after that?”
“Yale.”
“Law?”
“Yes. I work for Martin.”
“Funny, you don’t look like an assistant DA.”
“That’s the nicest thing anybody has said to me this year.”
“Then you’ve been seeing the wrong men.”
“You’re not only courtly, you’re clairvoyant.”
“I can’t divine your name.”
“Susan Bean.”
“Of the L.L. Beans?”
“No, and not of the Merrill, Lynch, Pierce, Fenner, and Beans, either. Of the entirely undistinguished Beans. And you?”
“Stone Barrington.”
“I believe I’ve heard the name. Of the Massachusetts Great Barringtons, I presume?”
Stone shook his head. “Of the Massachusetts Lesser Barringtons.”
“And how did you come to be in the big city?”
“It was easy; I was born here. After my parents had bailed out of Massachusetts.”
“Are you hungry?”
To his surprise, he was. He’d hardly touched his dinner at Elaine’s. “Yes.”
“The canapes were already gone when I got here. You want to get some dinner someplace?”
“I do.”
She stood up, and she was taller than he had expected. Quite beautiful, too. Stone got out of his chair. “Did you have a coat?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go find it.”
He took her arm, and, just for a moment, he thought the pain had gone away. Not quite, but a little. He steered her toward the front door, avoiding their hosts. Dino gave him a surreptitious wink, and a moment later, they were on the sidewalk.
“It’s nearly eleven,” Stone said, glancing at his watch. “I wonder if anyplace is still serving around here.”
“My apartment is only a couple of blocks away,” she said, “and there’s a good Chinese place that delivers.”
“Perfect,” he said.
“It’s not perfect, but it delivers.”
“I wasn’t talking about Chinese food.”
2
THEY WALKED AT A LEISURELY PACE, CHATTING idly. Her voice was low and musical, and Stone enjoyed listening.
“I recall that you are a lawyer, but I forget with whom,” she said.
“I’m in private practice.”
She laughed. “At Yale law we were taught to believe that ‘private practice’ meant you couldn’t get a job with a good firm.”
“That’s probably a fair characterization, but my excuse is that I was a cop for fourteen years and came to the practice of law, as opposed to the upholding of it, late in life. I’m of counsel to Woodman and Weld, but I work out of a home office.”
She wrinkled her brow. “That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is, I guess.”
“Oh, I get it; you do the dirty work, the stuff they don’t want to be seen to handle.”
“You’re very quick.”
“That’s what they say about me down at the DA’s Office,” she said. “‘Susan Bean is very quick.’ Of course, that’s not
They stopped for a traffic light. “What else do they say?”
“Some call me the conscience of the office; others call me a pain in the ass. I guess it’s pretty much the same thing.”
“What are you working on now?”
“I was second chair to Martin Brougham on the Dante case,” she said.
“Congratulations,” Stone replied. “That was a big win.”
“I guess so.”
“You don’t sound very happy about it.”
“Oh, I’m glad we won,” she said. “I’m just not very happy about
He was about to ask her what she meant when they arrived at her apartment building. She dug for a key and let them in; they took the elevator to the top floor, which was marked PH on the button.
“The penthouse?” Stone said. “Pretty fancy for an ADA.”
“It’s the top floor, the twelfth. That’s its only qualification as a penthouse.”
They rode up, and she opened the door to the apartment. It was small – living room, a dining alcove, bedroom, and kitchen. There was a small terrace overlooking the street. Any skyline view was blocked by a taller building across the street.
She went into the kitchen, dug a menu out of a drawer, and picked up the phone. “Trust me on the selections?”
