“It’s gorgeous. How did you do it so fast?”
“A friend of mine is the best theatrical designer in town. I told him to do it fast, with the best stuff he could find on short notice. I had the pictures and some smaller things in storage.”
“It took me two years to get my house to this state,” Stone said.
“As you said, I do things briskly. What time is dinner?”
6
STONE AND DINO WERE on their second drink, and Carrie still hadn’t arrived. It was nearly nine o’clock.
“She didn’t strike me as the late type,” Dino said.
“She’s had a busy day,” Stone replied, “and she’s just moved into her new apartment; she probably couldn’t find what she wanted to wear in the boxes.” Stone told Dino about the instant furnishing and decoration of the new apartment.
“Here we go,” Dino said, nodding toward the door.
Carrie, dressed in slacks and a sweater, was walking toward the table, limping.
Stone stood and held a chair for her, and it was not until he sat down and looked at her closely that he realized something was wrong. He waved at a waiter, pointed at his drink, then at Carrie.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Carrie said, trembling.
The drink came, and Stone handed it to her. “Big swig,” he said, and she complied.
“Now tell me what’s wrong.”
She gulped. “I was leaving my building, and as I
came down the front steps I saw a man coming down the street from the direction of Fifth Avenue.”
Stone waited while she took a couple of deep breaths.
“He was backlit by a streetlight, so his face was in shadow. To get a taxi I had to walk toward Sixth Avenue for a little bit, because the parked cars were so close together that I couldn’t squeeze between them without getting my clothes dirty. As I walked I could hear his footsteps getting quicker and realized he was running toward me. I saw a cab coming from up the street, and without even looking back, I just threw myself over the hood of a parked car and in front of the cab. As soon as I got inside, I screamed at the driver to get out of there, and I locked the door, because I saw the man reaching for the handle. There was a knife in his other hand.”
“Did he hurt you?” Stone asked. “You were limping when you came in.”
She reached down, took off a shoe, and held it up. The heel was missing. “This was the only wound,” she said. Calmer now and breathing more slowly, she took another big swig of the bourbon.
“Describe him,” Dino said.
“Tall, over six feet, athletic-looking, wearing a raincoat and a felt hat.”
“Any distinguishing features?” Dino asked. He was taking notes now.
“Small scar at the corner of the left eye, another scar on the inside of the right wrist-childhood injury-and a broken nose from football that never healed properly.”
“You saw all that?” Stone asked. “How?”
“I’ve known him since college; he’s my ex-husband.”
“Did you ever see his face?”
“No, but I know how he walks. I know his fascination with knives; he has a collection. It was Max.”
“What’s his last name?” Dino asked.
“Long.”