Kisser (2010)

Mitzi came into the kitchen, and Stone asked Brian to hang on.
    “Do you mind if we have a look around your house?” Rita asked.
    “Not at all. Explore to your heart’s content.”
    She handed him a card. “You might have your secretary have some cards like this printed for Mitzi.”
    Stone took the card: “71 East Seventy-first Street? I thought you lived on Park.”
    “It’s the side-door address for those who want to be discreet. Maybe you should use 740 Park on her cards for Sharpe’s edification.”
    “Sure.” The women wandered off, and Stone went back to his call. “I’m back.”
    “I was particularly interested in the battery and attempted murder charges,” Brian said, resuming. “I got hold of a San Francisco detective who worked the latter case, and he told me that Sharpe has a very bad temper, especially when drinking, and he has a propensity for violence. The attempted murder case arose out of a fight between him and another guy he nearly beat to death. It took four cops to pull him off.”
    “What was the battery charge about?”
    “He beat up a girlfriend, and she called the cops.”
    “Mitzi tells me her partner is out of town until tomorrow,” Stone said.
    “And she won’t start until then,” Brian replied. “Her partner, Tom Rabbit, is a big Irish guy who can handle anything and who is very protective of her.”
    “Brian, can you get her a car to be driven around in? Rabbit could be the chauffeur.”
    “Good idea. Let me check the pound and see what we’ve confiscated lately.”
    “You were right,” Stone said. “She’s a very bright lady. Oh, here’s her new address: 740 Park Avenue.” Then he read out the phone number.
    Brian let out a low whistle. “How’d you swing that building? I read a book about that place.”
    “It’s where Rita Gammage lives; Rita works for Philip Parsons.”
    “Then she’s a very rich lady.”
    “Or her parents are.”
    “Same thing,” Brian said. “I gotta run. Tell Mitzi to call me later today, and I’ll check on a car.”
    “Nothing too flashy,” Stone said. “Let’s not overdo it.”
    “Gotcha.” Brian hung up.
    Stone walked to his office, then down the hall to Joan’s room. “Can you get some of these printed in the name of Mitzi Reynolds? 740 Park Avenue? Same zip and phone. It’s a rush job.”
    “Sure,” Joan said. “I’ll run them over to our printer and wait for them.” She grabbed her coat.
    “On nice stock,” Stone said.
    “I get it.” Joan was gone.
    Stone walked back to the kitchen, where Helene was washing the champagne flutes by hand. “Where are the ladies?”
    “Haven’t seen them,” Helene replied.
    “That was a delicious lunch,” Stone said, and Helene beamed at him.
    He walked up to the living room and had a look there and in his study: no sign of the women. He walked upstairs and looked into a couple of guest rooms, then continued on to the master. As he approached, the door was ajar, and he heard giggling. He opened the door and stood there, transfixed.
    The two women were in his bed, and, judging from the pile of clothing on the floor, they weren’t wearing any. He didn’t know what to say.
    Rita took up the slack. “Join us?” she said.

19
    STONE WOKE SLOWLY in a champagne-induced haze. He was in the middle of his bed, and the women were nowhere to be seen. Then he heard a laugh from his bathroom and heard the shower go on. He drifted off again.
     
     
     
    HE AWOKE to a pair of lips attached to each of his cheeks.
    “We’re off,” Rita said.
    “I’m off, too,” Stone replied sleepily.
    “You were just great, Stone,” Mitzi said.
    “Yes,” Rita said, “but for a moment I thought you were too shocked to accept our invitation.”
    “Only for a moment,” Stone said
    “We’ll be in touch,” Mitzi said, and the two women moved toward the stairs. Stone drifted off again.

    THE PHONE WOKE him a couple of hours later, and he reached for it.
    “Hi, it’s Carrie.”
    “Hi, there.”
    “You sound sleepy.”
    “Yeah, I had an afternoon nap,” he managed to say.
    “Will you and Dino be at Elaine’s?”
    “Sure, eight thirty.”
    “May I join you?”
    “Of course.”
    “See you then.”
    Stone hung up, turned on his side, and went back to sleep. He woke in the dark, switched on the bedside lamp, and stood up. He staggered a little before he caught himself; he felt as if he had just run a marathon. Well, he thought, he had, in a way. The bedside clock said almost