“I’ll dictate it today; getting it typed is the problem. We’ve taken some staff cuts this year.”
Stone got dressed and called the precinct. Dino wasn’t back yet. He went down to the street and hailed a cab. When he arrived at Hank Morgan’s building, Dino’s unmarked car and a squad car were still outside, and the downstairs door was propped open. Stone ran up the stairs.
The niceties had not been observed. The search warrant was taped to the door, which had been opened with a sledgehammer; the jamb was splintered, and the apartment was a mess. Stone walked through the disarrayed living room and followed the sound of voices to a beautifully designed kitchen. Dino, the assistant DA, and two uniforms sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. Knives, silverware, and kitchen implements were scattered around the floor.
“Hey, Stone!” Dino called. “You want some coffee?”
“No thanks. You really tore up this place, didn’t you?”
“And look what we found!” Dino crowed, dangling a pistol from his finger by the trigger guard. “Three fifty-seven Magnum, and loaded, too.”
“What else?”
“No copy of a promissory note.”
“So?”
“And I’ll bet she won’t be able to come up with it when it counts.”
“You all finished here, then?”
“Just about. We’ll finish our coffee.”
There was a noise from the living room, and Stone turned to see Hank Morgan standing in the doorway, the search warrant in her hand.
“What the hell is going on here?” she demanded, her voice shaking with anger.
“A legal and proper search,” Dino said, standing up. “You got the warrant right there.”
Morgan turned to Stone, as if she expected she might be able to reason with him. “Just what are you looking for, for Christ’s sake?”
Stone shook his head. “I just got here myself, Ms. Morgan, but, I assure you, the search is legal and proper. I’m sorry about the mess.”
“So, Officers,” she said with withering contempt, “did you find anything? A joint, maybe? Or did you plant some cocaine?”
“We don’t plant stuff in searches,” Dino said, “but we did find this.” He held up the pistol.
“That’s mine,” she said.
“And do you have a permit for it?”
She started to speak, then stopped herself. “I want to call my lawyer,” she said.
“You can d
o that at the precinct,” Dino said. He walked over and handed her another warrant. “Right now, you are under arrest for the possession of a firearm without a permit.” He began to read her her rights.
Morgan turned to Stone again. “This can’t be happening,” she said, as if she expected him to make everything all right.
“I’m sorry, but it is happening,” Stone replied. He lowered his voice. “And I’d advise you not to say anything further until you’ve seen your lawyer.”
Downstairs, Stone watched as the patrolmen bundled Morgan, now handcuffed, into the squad car.
“You coming back to the precinct?” Dino asked, his hand on the car’s door handle.
“Not right now,” Stone said.
“How’d the physical go?”