“You think Dink is crazy?”
“I think, from what the director at the farm told me about him, that he might be a psychopath. At the very least, he’s a sociopath. You know the difference?”
“A psychopath is crazy,” Cookie said. “A sociopath has no conscience.”
“Either one of them can appear to be a perfectly normal person,” Herbie said. “Handsome, charming, and rich.”
“Which do you think Dink is?”
“I think that he’s both. The psychiatrist thought Dink had violent tendencies.”
Cookie gave a little shudder. “Eeww,” she said.
“My thought exactly. I don’t buy his reformed act, and I suspect his father doesn’t, either. I think it would be a good idea if you treat him politely, but not warmly, and that you avoid seeing him outside this office.”
“Herb,” she said, tossing off her drink, “you talked me into it.”
51
Stone and Dino were having dinner at P.J. Clarke’s.
“Good job on the Abney guy,” Stone said.
“You can thank Viv DeCarlo for that one,” Dino said. “I nearly got her killed doing it.” He told Stone about Viv’s struggle with Abney in the restaurant. “She would have died in that dumpster if she hadn’t been able to use the last of her strength to set off an alarm in her wristwatch.”
“How is she now?”
“I saw her this afternoon at the hospital. She’s walking and talking. She’ll be discharged tomorrow.”
“Is she going to be scarred?”
“A cosmetic surgeon closed her incision, and they tell me it won’t show after it’s healed.”
“That’s good.” Stone looked up and saw Herbie Fisher come into the dining room and waved him over.
Herbie took a chair. “How are you guys?”
“Never better,” Dino said.
“Same here,” Stone echoed. “Got your invitation for the High Cotton event. I’ll be there with my girl.”
“Me too,” Dino said.
“Why don’t you invite Viv?” Stone said. “It’s the least you can do.”
Dino squirmed a little. “I don’t know.”
“There won’t be anyone from the department there,” Stone pointed out.
Dino shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
“What have you been up to, Herb?” Stone asked.
“I’ve got a new client I’m nervous about,” Herbie said.
“Who’s that, and why are you nervous?”
“Dink Brennan.”
Dino put down his wineglass. “I thought we put him away for at least a year.”
“He got himself out and convinced his father that he’s a reformed character,” Herbie said. “He didn’t convince me.”
“Then why is he your new client?”
“Because of his father. If there’s any chance that the kid has turned a new leaf, I want to help him, for Marshall.”
“How screwed up is he?” Dino asked.
“How about psychopathic sociopath with violent tendencies? Or diseases to that effect.”
“Is that your diagnosis?”
“It’s what his shrink thinks.”
“Herb,” Stone said, “he’s already tried to ruin you once. Why don’t you just stay away from him? Marshall would understand your wanting to do that.”
“I guess he would,” Herbie said.
“Where are those two friends of his, Parker and Carson?” Dino asked.
“At a place called The Refuge, up in Westchester. Dink doesn’t know where they are.”
“Is he back in New Haven?” Stone asked.
“No, his father gave him the keys to a company apartment on the East Side. He says he’s going back to Yale in the fall, then to law school after graduation.”
“Well, he needs his father’s goodwill to live, doesn’t he?”
“Not really. A trust his mother left him became available to him last week, when he turned twenty-one. He’s got the money to do whatever he wants without Marshall’s help.”
Dino shook his head. “If there’s anything I hate worse than a violent psycho, it’s a violent psycho with money.”
“I know how you feel,” Herbie said. “I think the kid is a walking time bomb.”
“How big is he?” Dino asked.
Herbie shrugged. “I don’t know, six-three, two-twenty, maybe.”
“And you’re what? Five-seven, a hundred and sixty?”
“Good guess.”
“Do you own a firearm?” Stone asked.
“No, but I got a carry permit from the city in today’s mail, courtesy of Strategic Defense. And a very nice certificate that qualifies me to take a bullet for somebody else.”
“There’s a gun shop downtown, near headquarters,” Dino said. “All the cops shop there. Now that you’ve got your permit, why don’t you amble down there tomorrow and pick out something for yourself?”
“What do you recommend?”
“Nine millimeter, at least-something that won’t make a bulge under that beautiful suit.”
“That’s not the worst idea I ever heard,” Herbie said.
“You’re the second person this week to say that to me,” Dino replied. “I must give good advice.”
“Not always,” Stone said, “but this time, you’re right.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“All right, I’ll do that,” Herbie said.
“Just remember,” Stone said, “a gun is of no use to you unless you can put your hand on it in a hurry. Get yourself a nice holster, too. A dresser drawer isn’t close enough.”
“That’s good advice.”
“Yeah,” Dino said, “even Stone gives good advice once in a great while. When it agrees with mine.”
“Listen, fellas,” Herbie said, “if anything bad happens to me, it won’t be an accident. Please remember that.”
Stone and Dino exchanged glances.
“Sure, kid,” Dino said, “we’ll mention it at your funeral.”
52
Shelley Bach leafed through the New York Post. She was bored, horny, and getting annoyed about it. Then a name leapt out at her:
DETECTIVES BACCHETTI amp; MAHON WITNESS MURDERER’S SUICIDE
Shelley read the account of Abney’s demise avidly. She had tried to put Dino out of her mind, but now he was back, and in a good way. She let her mind roam back to their time in the suite at the Hay-Adams Hotel in Washington, then she reached for her vibrator. Batteries dead. She threw it across the room, got out of bed, and ran a hot tub. She needed to relax.
