“We’ve all been there, Stone, believe me. Thank God that’s all over for me.”
“I’d like to think so, Dino.”
“Believe me, it’s over. When you marry a Sicilian, it’s for life, and that can be short if you fool around.”
“How are things at the office?”
“Looks like we got two serial killers on our hands.”
“The taxi killings, I guess.”
“That’s one of them. It’s the most trouble, too, because every time another cabbie gets greased, the rest of them go bananas and block a major artery for the day.”
“I read about it. Any suspects?”
“Negative.”
“What’s the other case?”
“That one’s even weirder. We got two men and two women in the past seven weeks who just went poof. Right off the street.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere. All over Manhattan.”
“No bodies?”
“No nothing.”
“What do they have in common?”
“Fuckall. The women were twenty-six and thirty-two; the men were thirty-seven and thirty-nine. The guys were a stockbroker and a Porsche salesman; the women were an advertising art director and a VP at a cosmetics company.”
“No ransom notes?”
“Nope. They only got one thing in common I can see.”
“What’s that?”
“They’re good looking, all of them. Good dressers, real prime-time yuppies.”
“Where were they last seen?”
“Leaving work; restaurant; leaving exercise class; jogging in Battery Park.”
Stone shrugged. “Good luck, Dino.”
“I’m going to need it. What’re you working on at the law firm?”
“A fairly juicy one. A client – chairman of an electronics firm – is accused of beating up a high-class hooker in the Waldorf Towers. Looks like it’ll go to trial, and I’ll assist in the defense.”
“They’re not giving you nothing to try yourself, huh?”
“Not yet. I think they expect me to come up with my own. Any ideas?”
“I’ll keep it in mind, tell a couple of the guys. You never know.”
Stone took the letter, in a plastic envelope, from his pocket. “I’ve got something to show you.” He handed it over.