served him the order,” Cantor said, “and warned him off. I got a bug on him, too, so we’ll know if he’s within five hundred yards.” He handed Willie a small, black object that looked like a pager. “If this beeps, he’s around. A distance in yards will appear on the display.”
“Gotcha,” Willie said, looking at the thing. “He’s two fifty and moving away.”
“Okay,” Cantor said. “You don’t need me anymore, so I’m outta here.”
“Thanks, Bob,” Willie was saying as Cantor closed the stage door.
Cantor went back to his van and called Stone.
“HELLO?”
“I caught up with our friend Max outside the theater. I served him, gave him a little talk about the antistalking law, and attached a bug to his raincoat at the armpit, where he’s unlikely to notice it. Willie Leahy has a pager thing that gives him a distance on Max if he’s within five hundred yards.”
“Good day’s work, Bob.”
“I mentioned your name, since you apparently want him pissed off at you.”
“Better me than Carrie,” Stone said. “Let’s hope he makes a move, so Dino can fall on him from a great height.”
“Yeah,” Cantor said. “I’d feel a lot better with him in jail. Oh, I also left him a message from you at the front desk of his hotel. He’s gonna feel surrounded by you.”
Stone laughed. “I like it.”
“Listen, you watch your ass,” Cantor said. “It wouldn’t do to underestimate his guy. I did a background check, and in his youth he was a marine. Those guys don’t lack confidence.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stone said. “Thanks, Bob.” He hung up and called Carrie’s cell phone, got voice mail, and left her a message.
She called back an hour later. “What?” she said.
“Max is in town. Bob Cantor served him with the protection order. He’s now wearing an electronic bug that will let the Leahys know if he’s near.”
“Wow, how did you do that?”
“It’s the sort of thing, among many other things, that Bob Cantor does.”
“Why don’t you come over to my place tonight, and we’ll order in some Chinese?”
“Sounds good. You’re sure you’re not going to be too tired?”
“No. I’m wired, but you can give me a back rub.”
“I’ll rub anything you like,” Stone said. “See you at seven.”
STONE ARRIVED on Carrie’s doorstep at the same time as the deliveryman from the Chinese restaurant. He paid the man and rang the bell.
“Yes?” Carrie said on the intercom.
“Chinese delivery,” Stone said, and was buzzed in.
Carrie met him at the door. “Very funny, Chinese guy,” she said, laughing and taking the food from him. She went into the kitchen and made a little buffet of the containers, and they served themselves. They had dinner on the floor in front of the living room fireplace and shared a bottle of wine, while a Leahy waited outside her apartment door.
“I’m in love with Bob Cantor,” she said. “How do you know him?”
“From when I was on the NYPD. He and Dino and I were in the same detective squad. By the time Bob retired and went into business for himself, I was practicing law, and he’s been invaluable to me ever since.”
“How come you stopped being a policeman?”
“Because I stopped a bullet with my knee, and when my captain and I had a little disagreement over the conduct of a case, he used that to force me into medical retirement.”
“That’s shitty,” she said.
“Not entirely,” Stone replied. “When you retire because of an in-the-line-of-duty disability, you get a pension of seventy-five percent of your pay, tax free. If you’ve got to be forced out, it’s a nice good-bye kiss.”
When they finished dinner, she took away their dishes and then came back and sat between his legs.
“I believe you were going to give me a back rub,” she said.
“That’s how we’re going to start,” Stone said, starting.
12
WHEN STONE GOT to his desk the following morning, there was a note on his desk from Joan. “Bill Eggers wants to see you ASAP,” it read.
Stone walked over to the offices of Woodman & Weld, the law firm to which he was of counsel. Bill Eggers was its senior attorney and managing partner. When Stone had been forced out of the NYPD, Eggers, an old friend from NYU Law School, had taken him to lunch and suggested that Stone put his law degree to work for Woodman & Weld. Stone had taken a cram course for the bar and passed, and Eggers had started feeding him cases, the sort that the firm didn’t want to be seen handling. The work from Woodman & Weld amounted to well over half of Stone’s income, and when Eggers called, Stone answered.
Bill Eggers waved him to a chair. “How are you, Stone?”
“Very well, thanks, Bill.”
“I had a call this morning from an old friend of mine who’s a top guy in the biggest law firm in Atlanta,” Eggers said. “It seems you’re representing the ex-wife of an important client of his, and I use the word representing loosely.”
“You would be referring to Carrie Cox, former spouse of the creep Max Long? And I use the word creep expansively.”
“That I would.”
“From what I’ve heard I’m surprised to hear that Mr. Long can afford to retain an attorney who doesn’t advertise on late-night television,” Stone said.
“My friend brought me up to date on Mr. Long’s affairs, so I’ll bring you up to date. After his divorce he went through a bad patch, complicated by the shortage of money from the banks, and he lost a bundle. Shortly after that he acquired copious financing from a Saudi prince who keeps a house in Atlanta, and whose poker buddy he is. He used the money wisely, buying up prime parcels of land that were going at foreclosure prices and selling chunks of it to other investors at a handsome profit. His company is now earning money, and Mr. Long’s personal fortune has been recovered well into eight figures.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Stone said.
“I wanted you to hear it, because I suspect that you’ve been operating on the assumption that Mr. Long did not have the resources to be much of a problem to you.”
“I confess I was operating on that assumption,” Stone said. “I’m also operating on the assumption that Mr. Long is a real and proximate danger to Ms. Cox and that he is obsessive about her.”
“It’s clear,” Eggers said, “that you are relying on the testimony of Ms. Cox.”
“I am. She seems a smart and sensible woman.”
“My friend’s firm in Atlanta represented Mr. Long in his divorce, and he formed a somewhat different opinion of Ms. Cox.”
“That’s not surprising,” Stone said. “Divorce attorneys often adopt the opinions of their clients; they represent clients better, if they believe them.”
“He tells me that, on two occasions, Ms. Cox made attempts on Mr. Long’s life, once with a gun and once with a straight razor, which I thought was a quaint choice of weapon.”
“Then why isn’t she in prison?”
“Because Mr. Long would not bring charges against her and because he managed to keep the police out of it, even to the extent of having his personal physician come to his home and repair the damage from the razor, to the tune of more than a hundred stitches. Mr. Long required a transfusion, as well.”
“If that is true, one would think that Mr. Long would be giving Ms. Cox a wide berth, would one not?”
“Apparently,” Eggers said, “the man still loves her, and we know how that is. He gave her an inordinately
