“She may know who you are.”
“She may not.”
“I’ll think about it. Why don’t you come around to the Carlyle a little later, when I’ve sorted this out?”
“A little problem there. I’m in Saint Thomas.”
“A church?”
“An island.”
“What on earth are you doing there?”
“Bringing back Herbie Fisher, who jumped bail, leaving me holding a great big bag.”
“When are you coming home?”
“Tomorrow, I hope.”
“Dino has my cell phone number. Call me when you get back.”
“You watch your ass.”
“I wish you were here to watch it for me.”
“Me too. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Stone hung up and handed Dino his phone. “Let’s find the boat. She’s called Tenderly.”
They walked down the main pontoon slowly, checking boat names, until they came to one, a sailboat, with a light burning.
“Here we are,” Stone said, stepping aboard. He rapped on the hatch. “Bob?”
“Come on down, Stone,” Cantor replied.
Stone and Dino clambered down the companionway steps. Bob was sitting at the saloon table, and Herbie Fisher was sitting beside him, looking like a small animal caught in a spotlight.
“Well, hi, Herbie,” Stone said. “You’re a tough guy to catch up with.”
“He called right after you did, Stone,” Cantor said. “He just got here.”
“I’m not going back,” Herbie said.
“Yes, you are,” Stone replied, taking a seat on the banquette opposite the saloon table. “Let me tell you why.”
“Shut up and listen to this, Herbie,” Cantor said.
“You didn’t kill the guy,” Stone said.
“Don’t hand me that shit,” Herbie said. “You think I don’t know when a guy’s dead? I grew up in Brooklyn.”
Stone let the non sequitur pass. “He was dead, Herbie, but you didn’t kill him. There was an autopsy. The girl killed him. He was already dead when you fell on him.”
“I don’t believe you,” Herbie replied.
“Let me introduce Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, chief of the detective squad at the Nineteenth Precinct. Show him your badge, Dino.”
Dino gave a little wave and showed Herbie his badge.
“Dino,” Stone said, “am I lying to Herbie?”