Lucid Intervals (2010)

You have to play by the rules!”
    “Oh, okay,” Herbie replied, sounding dejected.
    “Listen, you can go out and buy furniture and pictures and other things and have them delivered the day after closing. You might need sheets and towels, too.”
    “Yeah, Sheila and I could do that.”
    “I think I need to have a little chat with Sheila,” Stone said.
    “What for? You trying to get laid?”
    “No, Herbie. I just need to straighten her out on where her loyalties lie.”
    “Her loyalties don’t lie.”
    “Her loyalties to you, Herbie. Is she going to be loyal to you or to her pimp?”
    “I want to marry her,” Herbie said.
    “In that case, you’re going to need an ironclad prenup, and I can do that for you.”
    “What’s a prenup?”
    “A prenuptial agreement that sets out what’s yours and what’s hers, should you get divorced.”
    “We’re not going to get divorced,” Herbie said.
    “That’s what everybody who ever got married believed, until they got divorced. This is absolutely mandatory, Herbie, and I don’t want an argument about it. When is the wedding?”
    “I don’t know; I haven’t asked her yet.”
    “Herbie, if you get married without my having gotten her signature on a prenup, I will stop representing you, and she will take all your money.”
    “She’s not like that.”
    “That’s what everybody who ever got divorced said. Promise me you won’t set a date until I say it’s okay.”
    “Okay, I promise.”
    “Good-bye, Herbie. I’ll get your closing set up.” He hung up and buzzed Joan.
    “Yes?”
    “Print out a prenup for me, will you?”
    “Sure. Which one?”
    “The maximum-strength one.”
    “Gotcha. You getting married?”
    “No, but Herbie probably is.”
    Stone heard a loud cackle as she hung up.

24
    S tone got to Elaine’s first, and two couples he didn’t know were sitting at the table next to his. One of the men got up, walked around the table, tapped Stone on the shoulder and stuck out his hand. “Stone Barrington, I believe?”
    Stone stood up and accepted the hand. “I believe, too,” he said.
    “I’m Jim Hackett; I understand we’re playing tennis tomorrow evening.” Hackett was a little shorter than Stone, solidly built and had a broken nose that made him look like an ex-fighter.
    “Hi, Jim,” Stone said. “I’ve heard about you from Bill Eggers, and I’m looking forward to our game.”
    “So am I,” Hackett replied.
    “I’m a little rusty, so I hope you’ll go easy on me.”
    Hackett smiled. “Don’t count on it,” he said. “I hope Eggers told you we play for money.”
    “He didn’t, so you can collect your winnings from him. I’m sure he’ll find a way to put my losses on his expense account.”
    Hackett laughed. “See you tomorrow.” He went back to his seat.
    Dino came in and sat down. “Where’s Felicity?”
    “Working. Some sort of meeting.”
    Dino waylaid a passing waiter. “Bring what’s-his-name here his usual Kentucky swill and me my usual princely Scotch,” Dino said. “And a wine list; Stone’s buying.”
    “Here we go,” Stone said, rolling his eyes.
    Dino pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Stone. “Here’s Herbie’s arrest report,” he said. “I scrubbed it from the computer, too.”
    Stone looked it over and then put it in his pocket.
    “Aren’t you going to burn it?”
    “Not until I’ve shown it to Herbie,” Stone replied.
    “What’s he up to these days, besides annoying honest police officers?”
    “He bought an apartment on Park Avenue for three and a half big ones,” Stone said.
    “Where on Park?”
    Stone recited the number.
    “Not the penthouse, I hope.”
    “Well, you can hope,” Stone said. “What’s wrong with the penthouse?”
    “Nothing if Herbie isn’t bothered by ghosts.”
    “Ghosts? What are you talking about?”
    “You know, if you read a real street newspaper instead of the Times , you’d know these things.”
    “What things?”
    “There was a double murder there about a year and a half ago: man and woman found hacked to death on the living room floor. The ME says the murderers used meat cleavers.”
    “Why are you telling me this? I don’t want to know this stuff.”
    “Herbie might. The apartment is unsalable; there’ve been two sightings of ghosts in the place. How much is Herbie paying?”
    “I told you, three and a half million.”
    “I guess that’s a bargain, kind of; they were asking five.”
    “Herbie says