“Is that the Mafia guy?”
“Right. She didn’t seem all that thrilled to have won it, which surprised me; I would have thought she’d have been walking on air.”
“What, exactly, did she say about it?”
“She said she was happy to have won, but she didn’t like the way they’d won it.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Eggers mulled this over. “So there might have been some sort of prosecutorial misconduct during the trial?”
“That could be what she meant.”
“You have any idea what kind of misconduct?”
“No, but the very mention of it to Brougham might have some sort of effect.”
“Maybe so,” Eggers said. “It might give him pause about a subpoena if he thought you might testify about something like that. It’s not much, but it might help as a bargaining chip.”
“I wish I had more to tell you,” Stone said. He turned to Dino. “There are cops on the DA’s investigative staff, aren’t there?”
“Sure; Deacon is a cop.”
“You know anybody in Internal Affairs that you might interest in an investigation of the evidence in the Dante case?”
“I know some guys, but they would be reluctant to open that can of worms, especially after a successful conviction of a guy the department has been after for years.”
“Do you know somebody in IA who hates Tom Deacon?”
“Now
Eggers looked at his watch. “I’m going over to Marty Brougham’s house now; you guys can fight over the check.” He tossed his napkin on the table and stood up. “Stone, you might lay low for a day or two, until I’ve had a shot at sorting this out.”
“Sure. I’ll be at…”
Eggers cut him off. “I don’t want to know where you are, if they ask me. Just call me in the morning, and if I’m not available, keep checking in. Don’t leave a number”
“Okay.”
Eggers shook both their hands and left.
Stone tossed a credit card on the table and waved for a waiter.
“So, where are you off to?” Dino asked.
“You don’t want to know that. If you need me, try my car phone or my cell phone.”
“I’ll let you know if I have any luck with Internal Affairs,” Dino said.
Stone signed the check, said good night, and got into his car. He’d had another thought on how to learn more about the Dante trial.
50
STONE TURNED INTO DOLCE’S BLOCK IN the East Sixties and punched her phone number into his car phone. As the number rang, he squeezed past an elderly Mercedes 600 limousine that was double-parked in the street.
“Hello?”
“It’s Stone; I’m in the block.”
“I’ll open the garage door; park next to my car and take the elevator to the second floor. And leave your luggage in the car,” she said.
It sounded as though he would not be staying the night. Stone ended the call and looked for her house number. It turned out to belong to a large, handsome redbrick town house. He drove down a short ramp and through the open garage door; it closed behind him. He parked next to the Ferrari and took the elevator to the second floor. The door opened into a hallway; Dolce was waiting for him.
“This way,” she said, beckoning him into a large study. Stone walked into the room and found Eduardo Bianchi sitting in a chair beside the fireplace. He got up to greet Stone.
“How good to see you again,” Bianchi said, offering his hand and indicating that Stone should sit opposite him.
Stone sat down, and Dolce brought him a drink, then perched on an ottoman.
“I understand you have bought a country house,” Bianchi said.
“That’s right; in Connecticut.”
“It’s a very good idea. One needs to get away from this city from time to time.”
“Yes,” Stone replied. He wondered if the man knew that his daughter had spent the night with him in that country house.
“I understand, too, that you are acquainted with my friends Lou Regenstein and Vance Calder.”
He knew. “Yes, that’s right. I spent some time in Los Angeles last year, and Vance arranged for me to fly out there with Lou on his studio’s airplane.”
Bianchi nodded. “I think that airplane is a dreadful extravagance, but Lou says he couldn’t hold up his head in Hollywood if he didn’t have it. I suppose such things mean something in that place.” He spread his hands. “What would I know about it?”
Stone didn’t buy that.
“Has the information Dolce obtained for you been of any help?”
“I won’t know until tomorrow,” Stone said, “but I’m very grateful for any leads in finding Mitteldorfer.”
“If there is anything else I can do to help, please let me know.”
“Actually, there may be,” Stone said.
“Tell me.”
“You may recall that the district attorney recently got a conviction of a man named Dante.”
“Salvatore Dante? I’ve heard the name, I believe.”
Stone thought he caught a hint of irony in the statement. “A prosecutor, Susan Bean, who worked on the trial was murdered, and before her death she hinted to me that there may have been some irregularity in the way Dante was prosecuted, possibly some prosecutorial misconduct.”
Bianchi’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”
Stone thought he looked
“Which would not be good for Woodman and Weld,” Bianchi said, nodding.
“Nor would it be good for my ability to function as a lawyer,” Stone said.
“I see your problem. And you think that if you knew what was, shall we say, fishy, about the Dante prosecution, it might improve your bargaining position with the District Attorney’s Office?”
“Yes. It occurs to me that if, for instance, evidence had been fabricated, Dante would certainly know that, and so would his attorneys.”
“A reasonable supposition,” Bianchi said. “Dolce, why don’t you take Stone into the kitchen and give him something to eat?”
“Yes, Papa,” she said, rising and taking Stone’s hand. She led him into the kitchen. “Papa wants to telephone,” she said. “You said you’d eaten; would you like some dessert?”
“Yes,” Stone said.
“How about a nice piece of Italian cheesecake?”
Stone wiggled his eyebrows. “Yes, please.”
