“I’m not, really. I was at a meeting with the chief of detectives when the call came in, so we both went to the scene. I loaned them a couple of detectives. How was London?”
“Quick. In and out.”
“Did you see Carpenter?”
“I spoke to her, briefly.”
“What were you doing there?”
“You’ll have to ask Lance.”
Dino looked at Lance.
“None of your business,” Lance said. “Why don’t we order dinner?”
Holly spoke up. “Did you get a description of the shooter?”
“White male, six feet, maybe more; well built. Black ponytail.”
“It’s Trini Rodriguez,” she said.
“Why the hell would your perp kill a New York City cop?” Dino asked.
“For the fun of it,” she replied.
“Excuse me.” Dino got up and walked away, his cell phone clamped to his ear.
Stone looked at Holly. “Your chances of nailing Trini have just gone up,” he said.
“No,” she replied, “Dino’s chances have. I’ll never take him home now.”
21
STONE WAS HAVING breakfast the following morning when Holly and Daisy returned from the park.
“I had a call on my cell phone this morning,” she said. “My FBI ex-friend, Grant Harrison, is in town, and he wants to see me; says it’s business.”
“So, see him,” Stone said. “You want to ask him over here?”
“I said I’d meet him for lunch, but I didn’t know a good place.”
“Tell him La Goulue, Madison at Sixty-fifth. I’ll book a table for you.”
“Will you come along?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, I’m just not comfortable with this. He’s less likely to shout at me if you’re along.”
“Oh, all right.”
Grant Early Harrison was standing in front of La Goulue when their cab stopped.
“That’s him,” Holly said, pointing.
He was better-looking than Stone had imagined.
They got out of the cab and approached him.