Worst Fears Realized (Stone Barrington 5)

“You know anybody in Internal Affairs that you might interest in an investigation of the evidence in the Dante case?”

“I know some guys, but they would be reluctant to open that can of worms, especially after a successful conviction of a guy the department has been after for years.”

“Do you know somebody in IA who hates Tom Deacon?”

“Now that might be a possibility; lots of people do. I’ll give it a shot.”

Eggers looked at his watch. “I’m going over to Marty Brougham’s house now; you guys can fight over the check.” He tossed his napkin on the table and stood up. “Stone, you might lay low for a day or two, until I’ve had a shot at sorting this out.”

“Sure. I’ll be at…”

Eggers cut him off. “I don’t want to know where you are, if they ask me. Just call me in the morning, and if I’m not available, keep checking in. Don’t leave a numbe

r”

“Okay.”

Eggers shook both their hands and left.

Stone tossed a credit card on the table and waved for a waiter.

“So, where are you off to?” Dino asked.

“You don’t want to know that. If you need me, try my car phone or my cell phone.”

“I’ll let you know if I have any luck with Internal Affairs,” Dino said.

Stone signed the check, said good night, and got into his car. He’d had another thought on how to learn more about the Dante trial.

50

S TONE TURNED INTO DOLCE’S BLOCK IN the East Sixties and punched her phone number into his car phone. As the number rang, he squeezed past an elderly Mercedes 600 limousine that was double-parked in the street.

“Hello?”

“It’s Stone; I’m in the block.”

“I’ll open the garage door; park next to my car and take the elevator to the second floor. And leave your luggage in the car,” she said.

It sounded as though he would not be staying the night. Stone ended the call and looked for her house number. It turned out to belong to a large, handsome redbrick town house. He drove down a short ramp and through the open garage door; it closed behind him. He parked next to the Ferrari and took the elevator to the second floor. The door opened into a hallway; Dolce was waiting for him.

“This way,” she said, beckoning him into a large study. Stone walked into the room and found Eduardo Bianchi sitting in a chair beside the fireplace. He got up to greet Stone.

“How good to see you again,” Bianchi said, offering his hand and indicating that Stone should sit opposite him.

Stone sat down, and Dolce brought him a drink, then perched on an ottoman.

“I understand you have bought a country house,” Bianchi said.

“That’s right; in Connecticut.”

“It’s a very good idea. One needs to get away from this city from time to time.”

“Yes,” Stone replied. He wondered if the man knew that his daughter had spent the night with him in that country house.

“I understand, too, that you are acquainted with my friends Lou Regenstein and Vance Calder.”

He knew. “Yes, that’s right. I spent some time in Los Angeles last year, and Vance arranged for me to fly out there with Lou on his studio’s airplane.”