Swimming to Catalina (Stone Barrington 4)

“Lieutenant Bacchetti.”

“Hi, it’s Stone.”

“Hi, buddy; are you back?”

“Nope, I’m going to be here for a while longer.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s a very long story, and you wouldn’t believe some of it.”

“Try me.”

Stone gave him a rundown on his activities since arriving in L.A.

“Very weird,” Dino said. “What was that Italian name again?”

“Ippolito?”

“Yeah, that sounds familiar. There was a guy by that name a long time ago that was with Luciano, I think.”

“Couldn’t be the same guy; maybe a relative?”

“Let me see what I can find out.”

“Okay, but before you do that, I need some local help on the ground here. You remember when we extradited the fat wiseguy from L.A. a few years back?”

“I’ll never forget the plane ride back.”

“What was the L.A. cop’s name who turned him over to us? He was something to do with an organized crime unit or something.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It was…wait a minute…ah, some white-bread name…Grant?”

“Richard Grant, that’s it.”

“Yeah, he seemed okay.”

“I’ll call him.”

“What hotel are you at? I’ll call you when I get something on Ippolito.”

“I’m at the nicest hotel you ever saw, and with the best maid service.”

“Already? You’re disgusting.”

Stone gave him the number. “If there’s no answer, don’t leave a message; call me on my pocket phone.”

“It works out there?”

“We’ll find out.”

“See you.”

Stone hung up and called LAPD headquarters. “Hello, I’m trying to reach a detective named Richard Grant; can you tell me where he’s stationed?”

“He’s here at headquarters, sir; I’ll connect you.”

The phone rang. “Detective Grant.”