Stone Barrington 06-11

shooting?”
    “It doesn’t feel good, does it?”
    “Maybe we should just stay in Connecticut,” he said. “She’d never find us here.”

    Marie-Thérèse walked into Elaine’s and looked around. She’d read about this place, most recently on Page Six, and she was surprised that it wasn’t fancier. What lay before her was a homey-looking neighborhood restaurant with a dining room stretching to the back of the building, checkered tablecloths, and a long bar on her left. The headwaiter was looking at her, but she pointed at the bar and took an empty stool at the end, her back to the window. She was wearing a sleek, black cocktail dress from Armani and some very nice pearls that she had stolen from a victim some time ago. The bartender came over.
    “Johnnie Walker Black, on the rocks,” she said, in her best American accent.
    He brought the drink. “You having dinner?” he asked.
    “Can I eat at the bar?”
    “Sure. I’ll get you a menu.”
    She sipped her Scotch and surveyed the crowd. She recognized two or three faces from the movies or the celebrity magazines, which she read voraciously. She liked the place. The bartender brought the menu, and she ordered a Caesar salad and a steak. “Have a drink on me,” she said to the bartender.
    He poured himself a small Scotch, raised his glass to her, and sipped it.
    She wanted him friendly.
    She fended off a couple of passes from guys at the bar, and when her dinner came, she ate it and ignored them. When she was finished, she ordered a cognac.

    The bartender brought it. “Haven’t seen you in here before, have I?”
    “Nope. I’m from San Francisco. It’s my first time in New York.”
    “Maybe you need somebody to show you the sights,” he said.
    “Maybe I do, at that,” she replied, smiling. “Say, tell me something.”
    “Anything at all,” he said.
    She dug into her handbag and came out with a clipping. “I saw this on Page Six a few days ago.” She handed him the clipping.
    He chuckled and handed it back. “Yeah, Elaine gets mentioned like that all the time.”
    “Who’s the lawyer with the ‘hard’ name?”
    “Oh, that’s Stone,” the bartender said. “Stone Barrington.”
    “Who is he?”
    “Used to be a cop, now he’s a lawyer. He’s in here two or three nights a week.”
    “Is he here now?” she asked, looking around.
    “Not tonight,” the bartender said. “You want to meet him, is that it?”
    “Not really. I was just intrigued by the story about the guy falling through the skylight.” She smiled. “I think I’d rather be shown the sights.” She liked the bartender; he was cute.

    Stone lay in bed, wide awake. They had made love half an hour ago.
    “You awake?” Carpenter asked.
    “Oddly enough, yes.”

    “I thought sex rendered men unconscious.”
    “Usually it does,” he said.
    “Stop thinking about La Biche. We’ll get her, eventually.”
    “Before she gets you?”
    She rolled over and put her head on his shoulder. “You wouldn’t let that happen, would you?”
    “Of course not.”
    She put her hand on his belly and stroked. “You want another shot at unconsciousness?”
    “You betcha,” Stone said, turning toward her.

30
    Dino had finished dinner and was back in his chair with the TV going, but he was having trouble staying awake.
    “Why don’t you go to bed?” Mary Ann asked.
    “It’s too early,” Dino replied. “I’d just wake up at four o’clock in the morning. Stimulate me. Talk to me.”
    She left the sofa, crossed the room, and sat in his lap. “I’ll stimulate you,” she said, moving around on his crotch.
    The phone rang.
    “Ignore it,” she said. “Let the machine pick up.” She kissed him.
    Dino kissed her back. He seemed to be waking up.
    The machine clicked on. “Dino, it’s Elaine,” she said. “I need to talk to you now. Pick up.”
    “Fuck her,” Mary Ann said.
    “Right,” Dino replied, unbuttoning her blouse and reaching for a breast.
    His cell phone rang. “That’s gotta be the precinct,” he said. “Let me get rid of them.”

    “Oh, all right,” Mary Ann replied, running her tongue around his ear.
    Dino fumbled under Mary Ann for the phone and got it open. “This better be good,” he said.
    “It’s Elaine. Get over here.”
    “What?”
    “You remember that conversation about this woman finding Stone by reading Page Six?”
    “Yeah.”
    “There’s a woman at the bar with the clipping, asking about Stone.”
    “Describe