“All right, Dolce and I once had a… thing.”
“A thing?”
“We were very, very briefly married.”
“You? Married?” she began laughing.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s funnier than you know. I can’t imagine such a thing.”
“Neither can I,” Stone replied. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Until she started shooting at me.”
“That’s who shot you that time, right before I came to work for you?”
“That’s who shot me.”
“It was just a flesh wound, right?”
“It hurt a lot.”
“And after that, the old man locked her up?”
“If he hadn’t, the District Attorney would have locked her up in a much less welcoming place. I think Eduardo may have bought himself a judge to keep her out of the slammer. Come to think of it, he may have already owned a judge or two.”
“How does one own a judge?” Joan asked.
“Don’t be naïve. One buys a judge. With money.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that sort of thing still goes on.”
“It has never stopped. Only the price has changed.”
“I’ve still got that gun you gave me in my desk drawer,” Joan said. “If she crosses to this side of the street, I’m going to shoot her.”
“Joan, do not shoot her unless she shows you a gun. Then shoot her. I’ll get you off, I promise.”
“Well!” Joan said, then flounced off again.
“Get me Bob Cantor!” Stone shouted after her. He had found, over the years, that one got more respect if someone else placed one’s phone calls.
Seconds later his phone buzzed. “Cantor on line one,” Joan said.
Stone picked up the instrument. “Morning, Bob,” he said.
“To the rest of the world, it’s afternoon,” Bob replied.
“Oh, sorry. I had a late breakfast meeting.”
“I’ll bet you did,” Bob said. “What’s up?”
“Work,” Stone said. “How soon can you round up Willie and Peter Leahy and get to my office?”
“Hang on.” Bob put him on hold, and then he came back. “Half an hour. Willie and Peter are here now.”
“Half an hour is good,” Stone said.
“How long is this going to take?”