Lucid Intervals (2010)

she asked, and she wasn’t asking about lunch.
    “Yesterday Dolce knifed her bodyguard, then disappeared,” he said. “I want you to keep the outside office door locked. Don’t let anyone in until you have seen who it is.”
    “Don’t you worry,” Joan said. She opened her desk drawer, removed the officer’s Model 1911 .45, racked the slide, put the safety on and put it back into the drawer with the hammer cocked.

8
    W hen Stone walked into Elaine’s, Dino was already half a drink ahead of him.
    “You look worried,” Dino said, as Stone sat down.
    “I didn’t know it showed,” Stone replied, as a waiter set a Knob Creek on the rocks before him.
    “Always,” Dino said.
    “Dolce’s on the loose,” Stone said, taking a swig from the drink.
    Dino’s face fell. “Bring us both another one,” he said to the waiter, then turned back toward Stone. “How the hell did she escape?”
    “I had lunch with Eduardo a few weeks ago, and to my shock she made an appearance at the table.”
    “She was running around loose?”
    “She appeared to be her old, premurderous self. Eduardo allowed her to go to the city on shopping trips, accompanied by an ape named Mario, and she started hanging around across the street from my house. It gave Joan the willies.”
    “I’m armed,” Dino said, “and it gives me the willies.”
    “Then yesterday Dolce slipped a knife into Mario and vanished.”
    After looking carefully around the restaurant, Dino summoned a waiter. “Go look in the other dining room and see if there’s anybody in there.” Elaine used the other room for parties.
    “There’s nobody,” the waiter said. “The lights aren’t even on.”
    “Go look anyway,” Dino said, “and look good.”
    The waiter went, looked and returned. “Nobody in there,” he said.
    “Thanks,” Dino said.
    “Don’t get all squirrely on me, Dino,” Stone said, but he was happy when the second drink arrived.
    “I suppose Eduardo’s got the troops out looking for her,” Dino said. He had once been married to Eduardo’s other daughter, Anna Maria, who, in rebellion, called herself Mary Ann. He knew the family well.
    “Does he still have troops?” Stone asked.
    “Eduardo knows people who know people who have troops. The last thing he wants is for Dolce to do something that gets noticed by the media.”
    “Like Mario?”
    “Mario was smart enough to call somebody. He’d have died on the street before he’d have gone to an ER. You, on the other hand, would be calling 911 before you hit the pavement.”
    “You bet your ass I would,” Stone said, sipping his new drink. “The really weird thing is, Eduardo told me that his butler—what’s that guy’s name?”
    “Pietro,” Dino said. “ That guy really gave me the willies.”
    “Pietro taught Dolce to use a knife when she was a teenager. Eduardo implied that she was good enough to disable Mario without killing him.”
    “Now that is very good indeed,” Dino said. “Somehow I don’t think she’ll have as much consideration for you, unless it’s to let you die more slowly. She would want to watch.”
    “We’d better order dinner before I order another drink,” Stone said.
    “I think you’d better keep your wits about you,” Dino said. “Where’s Felicity?”
    “She called and said she was hung up in a meeting; she’ll join us here.” A waiter brought menus.
    Felicity came in and sat down before they could order. She gave them both a kiss on the cheek. “Order for me, will you, Stone?”
    “Of course.”
    “But something light. I think I gained five pounds last night.”
    “How about the Dover sole?”
    “Perfect.”
    He ordered the same for both of them, and Dino ordered pasta. He also ordered Felicity a Rob Roy.
    “So,” Felicity said, “have you begun our little project?”
    “I’m not listening,” Dino said.
    “You may listen,” Felicity replied. “In fact, you may even be of help. Go on, Stone.”
    “My guy has gotten access to the security tapes at the Seagram Building on or around the dates you gave us,” Stone said. “We’ll review them tomorrow.”
    “Good thought,” she said. “What else?”
    “One of my guys also mentioned an Englishman’s love of his tailor, and it seems likely that he’s still having his clothes made.”
    “A very good possibility,” Felicity said. “My father practically went into mourning when his tailor died.”
    “We’re looking at New York tailors who make English-style