Swimming to Catalina

first-class ticket and a room at the Bel-Air Hotel.”
    “That’s a very tempting proposition,” Dino said. “Okay, but if you ever tell Mary Ann that it wasn’t department business, I’ll have you offed myself.”
    “No loose lips here. Catch the next plane you can, rent a car at the airport, and they’ll give you directions to the Bel-Air. I’ll have a room waiting for you, and we’ll have breakfast in the morning.”

    “You want me to come heavy.”
    “Good idea. Rick helped me out in that regard.”
    “Am I out of my fucking mind?”
    “You’ll like it here, I promise.”
    “Am I gonna get laid out there?”
    “I won’t stand in your way,” Stone laughed.
    “Bye-bye.” Dino hung up.
    Sturmack was passing the Beverly Hills Hotel now, still headed up Sunset. When he reached the Sunset Strip, Sturmack parked the Rolls and entered a small business.
    Stone was surprised. He called Rick Grant.
    “Lieutenant Grant.”
    “It’s Stone.”
    “Hi.”
    “Are you aware that Vinnie’s Deli is back in business?”
    “What?”
    “I just saw the lawyer who doesn’t practice law go in, and he’s not the only customer.”
    “They’re operating illegally,” Rick said. “When we raided the joint I had their business license canceled.”
    “Is that grounds for busting them again?”
    “You bet it is! I’ll have a couple of cars over there in a few minutes. We’ll see if they’re taking bets again, too.”
    “Can you bust the customers, too?”
    “I can bring ’em in; I can’t hold ’em.”
    “I’d love to see the guy ride in the back seat of a black and white.”
    “I’ll probably feel the mayor’s hot breath on my neck, but what the hell, it sounds like fun.”
    “I’ll wait and watch from a distance,” Stone said. He pulled into a side street and parked facing the deli.Nineteen minutes later, by his watch, two police cars and two vans pulled up in front of the deli, and the raid went down exactly as before.
    Minutes later, people were being led out in handcuffs, and Stone was delighted to see David Sturmack shackled to two men in dirty aprons, protesting loudly to whoever would listen. Nobody did. There was a bonus, too: Martin Barone was among the arrested. Sturmack must have been meeting him there. Stone’s phone rang.
    “Yeah?”
    “It’s Rick; did it happen, yet?”
    “You bet, and they bagged Barone, too.”
    “If they were just having a sandwich, I’ll have to let them go, but if they were in the back room, I can charge them.”
    “Great! By the way, our man arrived in a Rolls convertible. Can you impound that?”
    “Why not? I’ll send a tow truck.”
    “I hope they won’t be too gentle with it.”
    “They usually aren’t,” Rick said, laughing.
    “Let me know how it comes out, okay?”
    “Sure, I will.”
    “By the way, Dino is on his way out here; you want to have lunch tomorrow and catch up?”
    “Love to.”
    “Meet us in the outdoor cafe at the Bel-Air at twelve-thirty.”
    “See you then.”
    Stone hung up and drove back to the hotel, whistling a merry tune all the way. Things were looking up: he was unsettling his enemies, his best friend was coming to help him, and he had a wonderful evening planned in his suite.

48
    Stone and Dino had breakfast on the terrace of Stone’s suite and caught up. “You staying busy?” Stone asked.
    “If I was busy, could I come out here and screw around with you? The crime rate in New York is dropping like a stone, you should excuse the expression—murders down, robberies down, even burglaries down. It’s terrible!”
    Stone laughed.
    “It’s not funny; pretty soon they’ll be laying off cops. Already we’re getting ‘nice’ lessons from the mayor’s office, so we don’t annoy the tourists.”
    “It’s a better city for us all, Dino.”
    “I liked it the way it was before—people getting popped at all hours of the day and night, hookers on 42nd Street, three locks on every door—it was a cop’s city, you know?” He waved a hand. “Not like this miserable excuse for a metropolis. You call this a hotel? There’s not a fire escape in the place, there are nohookers in the lobby, and it’s located in a jungle!”
    “A garden.”
    “A garden is, like, in the back yard of a brown-stone; this is a fucking jungle! There are plants here that only belong in the rain forest; there are swans in a creek, for Christ’s sake! In New York I wouldn’t give ‘em twenty-four hours before somebody’d be