“No. I’m sending the package FedEx; I need the street address and phone number.”
“What are you sending?”
“Some things that Carrie thought you might like to have. She found them when she unpacked.”
“What things?”
“I don’t know; I haven’t opened the package.”
“I’m not giving you my address,” Long said.
“Whatever. I don’t really care whether you get this stuff. I’ll put it out with the garbage. Why did you want to speak to me?”
“I want to speak to Carrie.”
“She isn’t here, and she doesn’t want to talk to you. After the encounter last night, she wants nothing further to do with you.”
“So you’re the new boyfriend, then?”
“I’m her attorney.”
“Why does she need an attorney?”
“I’m also a retired police detective with excellent contacts in law enforcement.”
“So you’re going to protect her?”
“You can count on it, and let me give you some free advice: The New York Police Department takes a very dim view of a person carrying any sort of weapon on the streets of the city, gun or knife. Anyone caught with a weapon can count on jail time, and you wouldn’t enjoy our penal system.”
“So you’re threatening me?”
“Certainly not. I’m just giving you good advice. Here’s another good piece: Stay away from Carrie. She’s taking out a protection order, barring you from coming within a city block of her. Violate that, and you’ll do jail time. You see, there’ll be lots of opportunities for you to go to jail.”
“Tell her to give me back my money, and I’ll leave her alone,” Long said.
“Ah, now, that’s extortion. Did I mention that I’m recording this conversation?”
“You can’t do that.”
“It’s already done,” Stone said. “Now tell me if you want this package, because I’m tired of talking to you.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Long said.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ ” Stone said. “Tell me, are you always drunk at this hour of the day?”
Long hung up. Stone called Bob Cantor.
“Hello?”
“I’ve just had a phone call from Max Long. Here’s the number.” Stone recited it. “He wouldn’t give up his address, but if it’s his home number you can trace it back. It may be a cell phone, in which case he could still be in the city, and he’s drunk.”
“That prefix is a cell phone,” Cantor said. “If it’s not a throw-away I can get an address for it.”
“He gave me a P.O. box number,” Stone said, giving it to him.
“That’s harder, because it’s federal, but one of my Atlanta contacts might be able to do something.”
“I’ll get Dino to trace the location of the cell phone,” Stone said.