“Dolce,” Stone said, “can we—”
“Shut up, Stone,” she replied. “Arrington and I are discussing shopping. I’ll get to you in a minute.”
“I’m so sorry,” Stone said.
“Yes, you are, and we have to talk about that.” She turned back to Arrington. “I love your handbag.”
“Oh, thank you,” Arrington said. “I got it at Bergdorf’s, at that little boutique just inside the Fifty-eighth Street door. I can’t think of the name at the moment.”
Dolce pointed the pistol at her. “Think of it, or I’ll shoot you.”
Arrington thought desperately. “Suarez!” she said, looking relieved. “That’s it.” She held out the handbag. “Would you like to have mine? Please take it as a gift.”
“Why, that’s very kind of you, Arrington,” Dolce said.
I’ve got to do something, Stone thought, but he couldn’t think what. If he rushed her, she’d shoot him, and then only Arrington would be left, and Dolce would shoot her, too. He remembered what Guido had said about Dolce’s shooting skills. Where the hell is fucking Guido?
Then Stone saw a movement behind Dolce. He dared not take his eyes from hers and look at it. Instead, he tried to identify it with his peripheral vision.
Dolce swung the pistol back to Stone. “I may as well get this over with, so Arrington and I can talk seriously about clothes,” she said, raising the pistol.
“But …” Stone started to say, then the pistol in Dolce’s hand went off, with an evil pfffft, and he staggered backward. Almost simultaneously, the shape behind Dolce turned into a billowing sail, which fell over her head, and Dino, who had thrown a tablecloth over her, wrestled her to the ground.
Stone felt a searing pain in his left armpit and put his hand under his jacket. It came back covered in blood. Stone had always disliked the sight of his own blood.
“Will somebody give me a fucking hand?” Dino yelled.
Guido and his two friends materialized from behind a bush and went to Dino’s aid. Or, tha
t was the way it seemed at first. As Stone watched, the largest of the three men grabbed Dino by the collar and tossed him a few yards into a flower bed, as if he were an oddly shaped bowling ball. Guido picked up the shrouded Dolce, wrestled her gun away and threw her over a shoulder. Then he started toward the house, followed by his cohorts.
He nodded at Stone’s bloody hand. “You oughta get that looked at,” he said to Stone as he passed.
“Thanks,” Stone said, and watched them walk through the house and out the front door. Painfully, Stone put the microphone to his lips. “Detail at the front of the house: Three men are coming out with a woman in a sack. Do not detain them. Repeat, do not detain.” Then he fainted.
65
STONE CAME TO IN THE BACKSEAT OF A CAR. HIS HEAD was in Dino’s lap, and Dino was pressing something against his armpit.
“You awake?” Dino asked.
“Yes,” Stone murmured.
“You want to know what happened?”
“I think I know what happened,” Stone said.
Thad Shames spoke up from the driver’s seat. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m not sure,” Stone said. “Why aren’t you with Liz?”
“Liz left the house,” Thad said. “I came downstairs and went out into the garden to look for you, and she must have left the master suite then.”
Dino spoke up. “The cop at the door said she insisted on getting into the ambulance with Manning.”
“Are you sure I’m not still unconscious?” Stone asked, then he passed out again.
He came to again on a bed surrounded by curtains. Dino and Thad were standing beside the bed. Stone was not wearing a shirt anymore, there was a wad of gauze and tape in his armpit and his arm was in some sort of rubber sling, which seemed to be filled with ice. On a stand next to the bed, a plastic bag of blood dripped into a tube attached to Stone’s other arm. He tried to sit up and started to speak.