56
STONE WOKE EARLY, shaved, showered, and got to Rita’s apartment at eight. Dino met him on the sidewalk.
“I didn’t get breakfast,” Dino said.
“Neither did I,” Stone replied, ushering him into the building, “but we will.” He gave the doorman their names and waited until they were allowed upstairs. Before they went to the elevator, Stone pulled the doorman to the front door and pointed. “See that parking space?”
“Yes, sir.”
Stone put a hundred-dollar bill in his hand. “Please make sure no one parks there but a Mr. Sharpe. He drives a black Mercedes, and he’ll be here around eleven. Tell him that Miss Mitzi reserved it for him.”
“I’ll put a couple of cones out and watch for him,” the doorman said.
Mitzi answered the door in a silk dressing gown, and it looked as though she was wearing nothing under it. The sight stirred Stone, but there wasn’t time.
“You want some breakfast?” she asked.
“You betcha,” Stone said.
She led Dino down the hall toward the kitchen, but Stone went to a front window and made sure it would open, then he went to the kitchen and sat down at the table with Mitzi, Rita, and Dino. Moments later they were eating omelets and croissants, Mitzi dunking hers.
They lingered at the table, chatting, until after ten, then the women went to dress. Stone walked to the big stainless-steel refrigerator, took two eggs from the door shelf, and slipped them into his jacket pocket. Then he went into the living room and began reading the Times.
Dino joined him and took the Business section.
“Since when did you start reading about business?” Stone asked, surprised.
“When I got my hands on some money.” Dino had received a generous settlement when he was divorced.
“So now you’re a capitalist?”
“You bet your ass.”
“You brought the.22 pistol?” Dino had won a department championship with that pistol.
“It’s on my belt,” Dino said, not bothering to show him. “Are you armed?”
“I am,” Stone said.
“Not that you could hit anything.”
“Why do you think I asked you to bring the target pistol?” Stone said. He didn’t argue with Dino’s opinion of his marksmanship.
At ten thirty Dino used his cell phone to check on the status of the bust, then he hung up.
“Everything set?” Stone asked.
“Yep.”
“Oh, what did you find out about a helicopter pad?”
“There’s a tennis club a couple of doors from the corner of Seventy-ninth that’s being renovated. They’re taking down the nets and posts on the rooftop courts. My car is parked a block from here; my driver will run us there.”
“How many courts on the roof?”
“Four, stacked.”
Stone called the number Tiffany had given him for the helicopter pilot.