Stone tapped his foot impatiently, and when the last copy came out he grabbed the original and ran back to his office. He had just sat down when the man let himself out of the toilet.
“Sorry this is taking so long,” Stone said.
“Take your time,” the man replied.
Stone began reading faster, then scanning. Finally, he restacked the sheets and handed them to the man. “Tell Sig thanks,” he said.
The man returned the pages to their envelope and left.
Stone called Mitzi.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Stone. Sig sent over his proposal, and I read it.”
“What was it like?”
“Too good to be true. There is no corporation or company mentioned, no names of the principals, and no audited balance sheet.”
“A scam, then?”
“Of course, what did you expect?”
“And you weren’t allowed to copy it?”
“I wasn’t allowed, but I copied it anyway, while the messenger was in the john.”
“Oh, good. Will you fax it to the U.S. Attorney’s office?”
“No, but I’ll give it to you, and you can fax it to her without mentioning my name in any context.”
“Is it really that bad between you and her?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out.”
“Okay, here’s the fax number at the apartment.” She gave it to him. “Dinner tonight?”
“Can’t tonight.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Let me call you; I’m still in recovery.”
She laughed. “Poor baby.”
“Bye-bye,” Stone said. He hung up, gave Joan the fax number, and asked her to send the document to Mitzi.
“Sure,” Joan said. “Oh, a delivery arrived for you.”
“Bring it in.”
Joan came in holding a crystal vase containing at least two dozen red roses. “Here’s the card,” she said, then stood waiting while he read it.
With fond memories and anticipation
The card didn’t need a signature; Stone immediately recognized Dolce’s bold, slanted handwriting.
“Who?” Joan asked.