Worst Fears Realized

eat?”
    “Yes, Papa,” she said, rising and taking Stone’s hand. She led him into the kitchen. “Papa wants to telephone,” she said. “You said you’d eaten; would you like some dessert?”
    “Yes,” Stone said.
    “How about a nice piece of Italian cheesecake?”
    Stone wiggled his eyebrows. “Yes, please.”
    Dolce laughed and removed a cheesecake from the refrigerator and cut a slice, handing it to him. “You can have the other Italian cheesecake later.”
    Stone ate his cheesecake, drank some coffee, and chatted with Dolce for three-quarters of an hour, then Eduardo Bianchi came into the kitchen.
    “Was the cheesecake good?” he asked.
    “Absolutely delicious,” Stone said.
    “Rosaria makes a wonderful cheesecake. Now. I have spoken to…certain parties and, I believe, have made some progress. It seems that the prosecution of Mr. Dante turned on what was said on some surveillance tapes made by the district attorney’s investigative division. The odd thing is that, in spite of the evidence, which was played in court for the jury, Dante denies ever having spoken the words on the tape.”
    “So the tapes were doctored?”
    “Mr. Dante’s lawyers, of course, had the tapes examined by experts, but they were unable to find any evidence of their being tampered with. They will have them examinedagain, by other experts. The parts in question, although they comprised hardly more than a minute of the tapes, were crucial to the conviction of Mr. Dante, and he still insists that he never spoke those words. Since he did not testify in his own defense, he was unable to make the denial in court, not that it would have helped.”
    Stone nodded. “May I use a telephone?”
    “Please use the one in the study,” Bianchi said. “I think I will have a little cheesecake.”
    Stone went into the study, hoping against hope that Martin Brougham’s telephone number was not unlisted. It was not. He called the number, and when a woman answered, asked to speak to Bill Eggers, hoping he was still there. He was.
    “Hello?”
    “Bill, it’s Stone; listen carefully: the tapes that Marty used to convict Dante were somehow falsified by Deacon, or somebody in his division. I have this on very good authority.”
    “Thank you,” Bill said. “That’s very interesting.”
    “How’s it going?”
    “Call me tomorrow.” He hung up.
    Stone hung up and went back to the kitchen.
    “This information was helpful?” Bianchi asked.
    “I believe so; I won’t know for sure until tomorrow.”
    “I would very much like to know the outcome of this,” Bianchi said.
    “I will certainly let you know.”
    “It is terrible to see such abuses of power by public officials,” Bianchi said. “To think that a man like Brougham could destroy another’s livelihood for nothing more than his own political benefit. Hewants to be district attorney, of course, when the present occupant of that office finally vacates.”
    “I’ve heard that.”
    “Perhaps it would be a public service if that could be prevented,” Bianchi said.
    “Perhaps so.”
    “I will give it some thought.” Bianchi looked at his watch. “Well, it is getting late; I must go. I will leave you young people to your evening.” He shook hands with Stone, and Dolce walked him to the front door.
    Stone had another cup of coffee and waited for her to return.
    She came in. “Now you can bring your bags up,” she said, kissing him.
    Stone went to the garage for his luggage and returned.
    “Your father knows we were together in Connecticut,” he said.
    “He talked to Lou this morning, so that cat is out of the bag. Still, I didn’t think he would like to see you arrive with luggage.” She kissed him again. “Now, how about another slice of Italian cheesecake?”
    “I’m starving,” Stone said.
     
    Half an hour later, Dolce stroked Stone’s face. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
    “I don’t know; just tired, I guess.” He had discovered that he could not think of Arrington and make love to Dolce at the same time.
    “You’ll get over her,” Dolce whispered into his ear.
    Stone pretended to fall asleep.

51
    DINO’S DRIVER DOUBLE-PARKED THE CARand put down the visor with the police badge. “There’s the shop,” Dino said. “You want to take the back or the front?”
    “He’s not going to run, Dino,” Stone replied. “He’s a legit parolee with no violations.”
    Dino looked at the paper again. “Eliot Darcy,” he said. “Murdered his