“Stop saying that! You’re a deputy DA. Don’t you know everything that goes on in your office, or are you pleading incompetence?”
“I am highly competent,” she replied through clenched teeth, “but I do not know everything that goes on in our office all the time. Is that clear enough for you?”
“As through a glass, darkly,” Stone replied. “Let’s take this down a level to the rumor category. What have you heard about one or more ADAs in your office investigating Herbie Fisher?”
She took a gulp of her second bourbon and faced him. “Let me ask you another question, and please give me a precise answer.”
“Shoot.”
“Are you now representing or have you ever represented anyone in the immediate or extended family of Herbert Fisher?”
Stone thought for a moment about what that question might mean. “You’re investigating his wife?”
“Answer my question, if you want to go on talking about this.”
“No, I am not now nor have I ever represented anyone in the immediate or extended family of Herbie Fisher.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes is the answer to your question.”
Stone struggled to remember what his question was and finally remembered. “Investigating his wife for what?” he asked.
“I warn you, this is the last question on this subject I will answer. Got that?”
“Got it.”
“Here’s my answer: I cannot tell you.”
“What kind of answer is that?” Stone asked.
“An honest one. Please accept it.”
“I accept it.”
“And please know that this conversation is entirely confidential.”
“Wait a minute,” Stone said, “you can’t say that after the fact; it has to be before.”
“I am not a newspaper reporter interviewing you and promising to keep your name confidential.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Let me put it this way,” Willa said. “This and any other conversation you and I have had on the subject of Herbert Fisher or any member of his immediate or extended family is entirely confidential. Got that?”
“But—”
“Either you’ve got that, or I’ll pay for my two drinks and leave immediately, never to be heard from again. And you’d better not take too long to think about it.”
Stone thought about it instantly. “Got it. Would you like another drink?”
“I haven’t finished my second one,” she said. “Are you trying to get me drunk? Because if you are, I should tell you that three drinks isn’t going to do it, since I’m not driving, and drinking will have no effect on my memory of the details of our conversation.”
Stone handed her a menu. “Let’s order dinner,” he said.
FORTY-SEVEN