Dino stood on it.
7
Stone dropped Dino at the 19th Precinct. “Elaine’s, later?”
“Sure,” Dino said.
Stone drove home, put the car in the garage and went into his office. He sat down at his desk, and Joan came in. “Uh-oh,” she said, then disappeared toward the kitchen. She came back with some ice cubes wrapped in a dish towel and pressed it against his jaw.
“I’m glad you’re alive, but I guess you didn’t exactly come away unscathed.”
“You could say that,” Stone said, taking the ice pack from her and holding it to his face.
“The swelling is conspicuous,” she said.
“I noticed.”
“I guess the other guy is pretty messed up, huh?”
“Not a mark on him,” Stone replied, “but their front door is in many pieces.”
“You busted their front door?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Did Mr. Dattila get served?”
“He did.”
“You think he’ll respond?”
“Probably not, but then I’ll get a summary judgment, and I’ll take his fucking coffeehouse.”
“Good luck on that,” Joan said. “I take it Eggers is expecting some ink from this episode?”
“Apparently.”
“Maybe I’d better do something about that.”
“Do what?”
“I know somebody who knows somebody on Page Six at the Post.” Page Six wasn’t on page six; it was just the name of the biggest gossip column in town.
“I’m not sure how Eggers would respond to having Woodman and Weld on Page Six.”
“Well, we’re not going to get it in the Wall Street Journal,” Joan said.
“You have a point. Go ahead and speak to your friend; Page Six is what Eggers deserves.” He worked his jaw back and forth; it was sore.
The phone rang, and Joan picked it up. “The Barrington Practice. Yes, he’s right here.” She handed Stone the phone. “A client.” She walked back toward her office.
“Stone Barrington.”
“Hi, it’s Herbert Q. Fisher.”
Stone couldn’t suppress a groan.
“I hear you’re having trouble getting Dattila served.”