She brightened. “Okay; see you later.”
It wasn’t very far down Sunset to Vinnie’s Deli. Stone parked on a side street facing the boulevard and looked at his watch: just in time, he thought. Ten minutes passed, then an unmarked car pulled up to the deli, and Rick Grant and another man got out and went into the place. Stone raised his binoculars and watched as they stood at the counter, ordering something and watching the counterman buzz two hoods through the door to the back room. Rick and his companion sat at a table and began eating their sandwiches. From down the block, a large white van slowly approached the deli.
It was beautifully coordinated. Rick and the other cop got up from their table, walked behind the counter, and pin
ned the counterman to the wall. The van opened, and a dozen SWAT team members spilled out and into the deli. Rick hit the buzzer under the counter, and the door to the back room opened as SWAT cops oured into the room. A moment later, two paddy wagons arrived on the scene, and a moment after that, the cops started loading arrestees into the wagons; among them was Vinnie Mancuso, Stone’s swimming instructor. The whole thing took less than ten minutes.
When Rick Grant left the restaurant, Stone turned onto Sunset and pulled up in front of the deli, rolling down the opposite window. Grant walked over to the car.
“That seemed to go well,” Stone said.
“Couldn’t have gone better,” Grant replied. “You want to come down and watch while I interrogate Mancuso?”
“Love to. Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”
“I’m going to stage a lineup for Vinnie’s benefit,” Grant said. “Just to get him worried.”
Stone sat behind a one-way mirror and watched Vinnie Mancuso twitch. He was alone in the interrogation room, and he was nervous. A moment later, Rick Grant and another officer walked into the room and sat down at a table opposite Mancuso. Stone could hear the scraping of their chairs through the speaker in his room. One of the cops offered Mancuso a cigarette.
“No thanks,” the hood said, “I gave them up.”
“I’m glad to see you’re concerned about your health, Vinnie,” Grant said. “I guess you want to live a long life.”
“You bet,” Mancuso replied.
Grant shook his head. “It’s not looking very good for a long life,” he said. “Not for you.”
Mancuso frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Still, it’s not as bad as it used to be,” Grant said. “You don’t have to sit in the gas chamber and hold your breath the way you used to; now you just get the needle. I’m told it’s not unpleasant.”
“Are you insane?” Vinnie asked incredulously. “For a bookmaking rap?”
“Not for that, Vinnie; we’ve got you cold for murder one.”
“You’re nuts. Where’s my lawyer?”
“You called him; I assume he’ll be here soon. I thought you might like a moment before he arrives to consider your position. My witness made you in the lineup, but good.”
“Witness to what?”
“To the murder of Stone Barrington.”
Mancuso looked across the table for a long moment. “Who?”
“The man you dumped in the Catalina channel the other night; a witness on a small boat made both you and your friend, Manny. We’re picking him up now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mancuso said.
“I’m talking about the corpse we pulled off the bottom of the channel this morning, with an anchor shackled to it. My witness watched you and Manny kick Barrington off the sports fisherman Maria at around nine in the evening. He was watching through night binoculars; he saw everything.”
Mancuso’s face began, very slowly, to fall.
“The only question now is, who gets the needle?” Grant said. “You or Manny? Or both?”
Mancuso said nothing, but it was obvious he was thinking hard.
“We got you first, so you get dibs on the deal,” Grant said. “Once we bring Manny in, he’ll get the same offer, if you haven’t taken it.”