“Sure, Herbie,” Cantor said. The two men left the room.
“Stone,” Dierdre said, “I’ve never seen you at a loss for words.”
“What just happened?” Stone asked.
“Well, your client told me what happened at his apartment, and I believed him, so I dropped the murder charge. I’ll send you a letter confirming that he’s not a target of our investigation.”
“Let me get this straight: you hate Herbie Fisher, because he kicked your little brother, the cop, in the balls, and yet you dropped the murder charge against him, because you liked his story?”
“That’s about it,” she said.
“I’m going nuts,” Stone said. “I’m dreaming.”
“Of course,” she added, “there was the fact that we found Gus Castiglione’s prints on the butcher knife, and when we arrested him early this morning, Cheech’s blood was on his shoes.”
Stone stared at her in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me that to begin with?”
“Because it was so much more fun watching your face while Herbie told his story,” she said. “Can I buy you lunch?”
42
Stone got out of a cab at the Tribeca Grill and waited for Dierdre Monahan to arrive in her own cab. She had suggested this place, which was way off the beaten path of the courthouse legal fraternity, because she didn’t want to be seen having lunch with him. At least, that was what he figured.
He was not thrilled about this meeting, since he thought he knew what she had in mind, but he didn’t want to make an enemy of a woman who had become an important A.D.A. and with whom he would certainly have dealings in the future.
Dierdre arrived five minutes later, gave him a smile and waved him inside. As they were seated at their table, Stone noticed that she had changed from her A.D.A. standard-issue business suit to a tight dress that showed more than a little cleavage-definitely not your average courtroom costume.
Dierdre ordered a cosmopolitan and Stone ordered fizzy water. Somehow, he felt that he needed his wits about him on this occasion.
“You’re looking very fetching today,” Stone said, sipping his fizzy water.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she said, taking a deep swig of her cosmo. “I thought that went very well this morning, didn’t you?”
“Let’s just say that I achieved my objective in a surprising manner. I had no idea what Herbie was going to say, and because of the traffic jam, I didn’t have an opportunity to find out before we landed in your office.”
“Well, it all turned out all right, didn’t it? Your client lives to fuck up another day.”
“And fuck up he will,” Stone agreed. “I just hope I’m a long way away at the time.”
“How’d you get involved in this thing with Dattila the Hun, anyway?”
“I didn’t get involved; Woodman and Weld, in the person of Bill Eggers, suddenly decided it was a good idea that I should sue the most murderous goombah thug in the city, maybe the world. I can’t tell you what a nightmare it’s been.”
“I can imagine,” she said. A waiter appeared at their table. Dierdre handed him the menu. “I’ll have the shrimp pasta dish, no starter, and another cosmo.”
“Same for me, hold the cosmo,” Stone said.
“So, what have you been doing besides suing the Hun?” she asked.
“Well, I had a client murdered last night.”
“This is the one with Devlin Daltry as the suspect.” It wasn’t a question.
“You’re very well informed.”
“Was she really…” She grimaced.
“Headless? Yes, she was. It was an ugly business, and Daltry has an alibi.”