“She said you said it would be okay, so I gave her the extra set of keys.”
“Any idea where she went?”
“Not a clue.”
Stone went into his office and signed some letters, then picked up the phone and dialed his car phone number. It rang four times before she figured it out.
“Hello?”
“Holly, it’s Stone. Where are you?”
“Sitting outside the La Boheme coffeehouse, in Little Italy.”
“You’re not going to get my car full of bullet holes, are you?”
“A brochure in the glove compartment says it’s armored.”
“Well, it is, sort of, but I’ve never actually tested the armor. I’d prefer it if you returned it in the same shape as when you drove it away.”
“Well, sure, I’ll try.”
“When, exactly, did I say you could borrow my car?”
“At dinner. Don’t you remember?”
He did not. “I guess. When are you coming home?”
“A couple of hours, if Trini doesn’t show up. If he doesn’t come for
lunch, I’ll leave it until later. Can I buy you dinner tonight?”
“No, but a guy from the CIA will buy us both dinner at Elaine’s.”
“The CIA? No kidding?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“I’ve never met anybody from the CIA. This ought to be interesting.”
“I hope not. I’ve just spent an all-too-interesting morning in court because of him. I’ve learned that you don’t want interesting, where the CIA is concerned.”
“Holy shit!” Holly yelled.
Stone heard his car start. “What’s going on, Holly?”
“It’s Trini! He’s leaving the La Boheme right now and getting into a Cadillac!”
“Holly, please don’t try a car chase in downtown Manhattan. It’s not like at home in Orchid Beach.” He heard the car’s engine rev.
“I don’t think he saw me,” she said.
“Holly, don’t hang up the phone.”
She hung up the phone.
Stone was left holding a dead receiver. He hung it up and buzzed Joan.
“Yes?”