Stone drove on into the night.
26
Stone woke with sunlight streaming into the bedroom and the phone ringing. Telemarketer, he thought; nobody knew he was here. He let the machine get it.
Celia never cracked an eye; she snored on, lightly. Stone got up, went downstairs and found a can of coffee in the freezer. Ten minutes later, Celia came down the stairs, almost dressed, in a robe that he kept for guests.
“Good morning,” she said, yawning. “Where are we again?” They had fallen into bed on arrival, both exhausted.
“In Washington, Connecticut, a village in the upper left-hand corner of the state.”
“I’ve never been to Connecticut. You got anything for breakfast?”
Stone looked at the kitchen clock: eleven-ten a.m. “Nope, we’ll have to pick up some things. I’ll buy you lunch, though.”
“Have I got time for a shower?”
“Sure. We’ll go to the Mayflower.”
“The moving company?”
“The country inn, maybe the best in the United States.”
“I’d better look nice, then.” She took her coffee and headed upstairs.
Stone noticed the message light blinking on the kitchen phone, and he pressed the button.
“Mr. Barrington, this is Seth Hardaway. I noticed you were missing a few shingles after that storm last week, so I replaced them and a section of gutter. I’ll fax the bill to New York.”
Next message: “Stone, it’s Joan. I don’t know if you’re there, but your cell is off. Call me; Herbie Fisher has surfaced.”
Stone erased the messages and called home.
“The Barrington Practice.”
“Good guess,” Stone said.
“Well, it is your only other home, not counting Maine.”
“Only because I’m not rich enough yet. When the Finger divorce is over, maybe I’ll think about something in Santa Fe.”
“Dream on.”
“Did Bernice sign the document?”
“She did, and so did her soon-to-be ex-husband.”
“Thank God,” Stone sighed. “That’s a load off my mind.”
“When do we get a load into your bank account?”
“What’s the matter, isn’t the hundred-grand retainer enough to satisfy you?”
“After taxes, you’ve got eight grand and change left.”
“Where’s the rest?”
“You want me to read you the list of bills I paid, starting with the insurance premiums on both houses, the car and the airplane?”
“No thanks. You said Herbie has surfaced?”
“He’s sitting in your office.”
“Well, get him out of there, before he sets it on fire!”
“Talk to him first.”
“Put him on.”
There was a short silence, then: “Stone? Is it really you?” He sounded like a little boy just home from summer camp.
“Where have you been, Herbie?”
“In an attic downtown somewhere.”
“Tell me.”
“Those two guys grabbed me on the street, near my house.”
“What were you doing near your house? I told you to stay away from there.”
“All I wanted was some clean underwear.”
“Was it worth it?”
“I never got it. In fact, I’ve been wearing the same underwear for four days.”
“I didn’t need to know that, Herbie. What did they do to you?”
“They slapped me around a lot and threatened to do stuff with pliers.”
“Did you get any names?”
“Cheech and Gus. And an old guy named Carmen.”
“Do you, by any chance, mean Carmine?”
“Yeah, that’s it, with a ‘mine.’”
“What was he doing there?”
“He just came into the room for a minute this morning, looked at me and said, ‘Kill him as slow as possible.’”
“He actually said that?”
“Right before I jumped through the window.”
“You jumped out an attic window?”
“I jumped
Herbie had a point. “Have you talked to your uncle?”
“Not yet.”
“Put Joan back on the phone.”
“Now what?” she asked.
“Let Herbie take a shower in the little bathroom off the kitchen, and tell Helene to throw his clothes into the washing machine and give him something to eat. Then give him two hundred dollars and call Bob Cantor and tell him to come get his nephew. I want Herbie out of there in two hours, and tell him it’s very, very dangerous for him to be in my house.”
“Gotcha,” Joan said.
“Any other calls?”
“No.”
“Call Sam Teich at Bernie Finger’s office and tell him we want an accounting today and a check in three days. Fax me anything he sends you. Call Bernice and tell her we’re ironing out the final details, and give her my cell number and the number here, if she needs to have her hand held.”
“Okay. When are you coming home?”
“Probably tomorrow. I’m stashing Celia up here to keep her former boyfriend away from her. If he should call me, tell him I’ll see him in court.”
“Okay. See ya.” Joan hung up.
Stone finished his coffee, showered and shaved and drove Celia to the Mayflower.
“Wow,” she said, as they drove up the driveway. “This is really beautiful.” She was impressed with the dining room, too.
They ordered lunch. “I’m going to have to go back to the city tomorrow morning,” he said. “We’ll get you some groceries this afternoon; if you need any more, you can charge them to my account at the market, and I’ll rent you some kind of car from the guy at the gas station. You might drive around the county a little, take a look around. I’ll give you a map.”
“What if Devlin finds me here?”
“Have you ever fired a gun?”
“Sure, I grew up with guns. My daddy was a handgun freak, so I’ve fired just about everything.”
