New York Dead

“This was nothing more than a quick grope, and the girl encouraged it.”
    She glanced at the file again. “Your client had been drinking.”
    “But he wasn’t even over the limit for driving, was he?” Stone asked, taking a stab. “And what was the girl’s blood-alcohol content?”
    Mendel snapped the file shut. “I can’t discuss that.”
    “Come on, Ms. Mendel, the police didn’t even test her, did they? How is that going to look in court?”
    “I might be able to reduce to simple battery,” she said. “Your client, as a first offender, wouldn’t do any time. I’d recommend counseling and community service.”
    “How long have you been on the job?” Stone asked.
    “That’s not relevant to this discussion,” she replied primly.
    “As little time as that, huh?” She had probably been a member of the bar longer than he had, but she didn’t know that. “Look, if this went to trial, I’d blow you right out of the water. In fact, I could insist on going down the hall to the chief prosecutor right now and get this one tossed, but that would embarrass you and take up my time. Please don’t think I’m patronizing you, but I want to give you some advice. The traffic is too heavy in this office to give your time to anything but cases you have a real chance of winning. This one is a nonstarter, and we both know it. Why don’t you just drop charges now — you have that authority — and let’s save ourselves for something worth going to trial on?” He smiled.
    “Oh, shit, all right,” she said, tossing the file on her desk. “But I’m going to take it out of your ass when I do get you into court.” She smiled seductively.
    Stone thanked her and fled the premises. Back in his new office, with Helen typing in the reception room, he called Van Fleet and gave him the news.
    “Oh, thank you so very much,” Van Fleet breathed into the phone. “I can’t tell you what a load off my mind this is.”
    “Glad to be of help, Herb,” Stone said, “but let me give you some advice. Stop picking up girls in bars. This was a close call, and, if you keep it up, you’re going to get in trouble. I don’t want to see that happen.” “Don’t worry, Stone,” Van Fleet said. “You won’t have to defend me again.”
    Stone hung up and reflected on what an easy ten thousand dollars he had made.
    Helen came into his office. “A Ms. Hilliard called while you were on the phone. She dictated this message to me.”
    Stone read the message:
    Please meet me in the lobby of the Algonquin Hotel at four o’clock this afternoon. Don’t disappoint me.
    Stone felt an involuntary stirring in his crotch. The hell with her, he thought; he wouldn’t do it.

Chapter
44

    Stone arrived at the Algonquin at four on the dot. The Japanese had bought the hotel, as they had seemed to buy nearly everything else, and had restored the lobby. It was beautiful, he thought, gazing at the polished oak paneling and the new fabrics. He looked around for Cary; she had not yet arrived. He snagged the headwaiter and was given a table. He ordered a drink and waited.
    Five minutes later, a bellman walked among the tables calling, “Mr. Barrington, message for Mr. Barrington!”
    Stone accepted an envelope and tipped the man. It was a hotel envelope, and inside was a plastic card with a lot of holes punched in it. A number had been written on it with a marking pen. He paid for his drink and walked to the elevator. Sweat was beginning to seep from his armpits and crotch, and he was breathing a little faster than he normally did.
    The room was at the end of the hall. He inserted the card in a slot, there was an audible click, and the door opened into a nicely furnished sitting room. The door to the bedroom was closed, and he opened it, letting a shaft of light into the darkened room. He closed the door behind him and took off his overcoat. There was a slit of light from under the bathroom door and the sound of water running. Breathing harder now, Stone began ridding himself of his clothes.
    When she opened the door, the bathroom light illuminated her from above for just a moment. She was wearing only a terry-cloth robe, and it fell open. She switched off the light and crossed the room to him. Somewhere along the way, the robe disappeared.

    He rolled off her and sprawled on his back, panting and sweating. It had been the third time in two hours; he hadn’t known he was capable of that. In the time since he had entered the room, neither