Naked Greed (6 page)

“What do you carry?”

“A little Colt .380.”

“The Government model?”

“Yep.”

“Very nice. I have one of those, too. Remember, you can’t carry it loaded, and the magazine can’t be in the same bag as the gun.”

“Got it.”

“I forgot to ask: Did you eat?”

“How soon you forget!”

Caroline stayed for breakfast and one more roll in the hay, then she showered and took off for work.

When Stone got to his desk he buzzed Joan.

“Yep?”

“Please send two dozen yellow roses to Caroline Woodhouse at Kelly & Kelly advertising, no card necessary.”

“Got it. Also, Brad Kelly is holding on line one.”

Stone punched the button. “Morning, Brad.”

“Morning, Stone. I’ve just messengered over a contract between us and Pepe Perado. It covers the items we discussed when you were both here, plus a lot of nitpicks your associate at Woodman & Weld threw at us. Will you have a look at it and let me know if it’s okay?”

“Sure, Brad.”

“By the way, the first thing you asked me when you called was if we had a beer account. We didn’t, but we did have a beer distribution account. That won’t be a problem, because we resigned it about ten minutes ago, since one clause of the contract seems to bar us from having such clients other than Perado.”

“If I were your attorney, I’d have advised you not to resign the other account until you had a signed contract with Pepe.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, we’re not unhappy to be unloading them.”

“Out of curiosity, who are they?”

“They’re called Bowsprit Beverages, and one of the partners has been nothing but a royal pain in the ass since we signed them two years ago.”

Stone shrank a little inside. “Let me hazard a wild guess: The partner in question is one Gino Parisi?”

“Right, and we’ve heard they’re mobbed up, too, and we don’t go for that.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that, too. Tell me, did you tell Parisi who your new client will be?”

“They wanted to know, and I didn’t see any reason not to tell them. We’d already shaken Pepe’s hand on the deal.”

“Thanks, Brad, I’ll go over the contract as soon as I get it.”

“We’re ready to sign, unless there are problems.”

“I’m seeing Pepe later this morning, and I’ll run it by him.” They both hung up, and Stone called Dino.

“Bacchetti.”

“Morning.”

“You sound tired. Another athletic night?”

“Funny you should mention that. I may have to hire some help.”

Dino thought that was very funny. “That’s what Viv said.”

“You told her about this?”

“You’ve never been married long enough to know this, pal, but fully joined couples tell each other everything.”

“Everything?”

“Well, almost everything. Is bragging about your sex life all you called about?”

“I wasn’t bragging—you asked.”

“Never mind. Why did you really call?”

“My problem with Parisi and Brubeck just got worse.”

“What, did you shoot one of them?”

“No, but I lost them an advertising agency.”

“How did you do that?”

“Pepe hired Kelly & Kelly, and there was a conflict, so the agency dumped Bowsprit. They seemed delighted to do it, because they hate Parisi.”

“And now he has another reason to hate you?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And you want my advice?”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

“Lock yourself in the house and live on pizza and Chinese food until Parisi dies. On second thought, no pizza—that’s Italian, and Parisi might have a connection. We wouldn’t want you to get poisoned, would we?”

“We would not, but is that the best you can do?”

“What more can I do, until Parisi makes a move? I mean, if you declare your house a foreign embassy I could get you a security detail, but apart from that . . .”

“Thanks, that’s very helpful.”

“Listen, you’re going to hear from Parisi sooner rather than later. I mean, he could shoot you, or something, then I could arrest him.”

“Gee, Dino, you make it sound so easy.”

“You’ve still got a bulletproof vest in your wardrobe from that thing last time, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, start wearing it again, and unless Parisi is a fabulous shot and puts one in your head, you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t tell you how much better I feel after I talk to you.”

“Anytime, pal.” Dino hung up.

—

T
he messenger arrived with the contract from the ad agency, and Stone was able to get through it before Pepe arrived for their appointment.

“This looks good,” Stone said. “They’ve already signed, and it’s contingent on your closing the deal with Marty Winkle, so if you want to sign it now, I’ll messenger it back to them.”

Pepe signed the document, and Stone gave it to Joan to return.

“One down and one to go,” Pepe said.

“How’s it going out in Queens?”

“My people have been through the books and the business with a fine-toothed comb, and they like it. Marty Winkle is as clean as a Texas armadillo’s tooth. I wish everybody I deal with was so straightforward. His attorney is drafting an agreement now, and it will include the points you raised, including a three-year indemnification against liability suits. We’re agreed on money, so we’re only a couple of days away from closing. I had no idea when I came here that I’d go home with a closed deal, and I owe that to you, Stone. I want you and Woodman & Weld to go on representing us.”

“We’d be delighted.”

Pepe took a document from his briefcase. “Here’s the representation agreement you gave me. It’s signed, and my office is sending you a retainer check.”

“Thank you, Pepe, you’re an easy man to represent.”

“By the way, the two goons have disappeared. I haven’t seen them since yesterday.”

Stone was immediately suspicious. “I’m delighted to hear it, but don’t dismiss your security detail yet. Brad Kelly tells me that they’ve been representing Bowsprit Beverages for the past two years, and they resigned the account this morning.”

“Do Brubeck and Parisi know I’m the reason?”

“I’m afraid so, so we should be cautious for the rest of the time you’re in town.”

“That security team is expensive.”

“If they save your life only once, they’re cheap.”

Pepe left and Joan came into Stone’s office. “Have we made somebody mad?” she asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because a black car with two goon-like creatures in it has been circling the block for the last twenty minutes.”

“Maybe they’re looking for a parking place.”

“They’re more likely looking for you.”

“Have you paid all the bills?”

“Have I paid all the bills!” she said sarcastically.

“Okay, you’ve paid all the bills. Let me come take a look.” Stone went down the hall to Joan’s office, which had a view of the street, and he sat on the edge of her desk and waited. “How long do they take to get around the block?”

“I don’t know—five minutes, ten, depending on the lights. Ho! There they are.”

Stone peered out and saw the familiar black Crown Vic, driven by Ryan and Al Parisi. “Well, that’s a relief: wrong goons.”

“We have a selection of goons to choose from?”

“These guys have been following Pepe for days. They don’t know they’ve already missed him. The other guys, if they show, will be new and more frightening.”

“What should we do?”

“Just let these two continue to circle the block, until their tires wear out. If you see any other goons, either in a car or on the sidewalk, call me, and I’ll come shoot them with your .45.”

“It’s loaded and ready,” Joan replied, opening her center desk drawer to reveal the old weapon. “Say, are you gaining weight?”

“It’s my new underwear,” Stone replied, poking himself in the ribs.

“Do I need a change of underwear?”

“I don’t think a bullet could penetrate that tweed jacket you’re wearing,” Stone replied.

“I’m celebrating my Scottish heritage,” she said. “Sometimes I find a twig or two woven into it.”

“What next, a bird’s nest?”

“That would be okay. I could use the eggs.” Her phone rang, and Joan answered it. “Caroline on one.”

Stone went back to his office and punched the button. “Hello,” he said.

“Nice roses,” she replied. “Thank God you didn’t include a card. I’m getting all sorts of stick about them around the office.”

“Don’t they know what you do in your spare time?”

“God, I hope not, I’d never hear the end of it. You available for pizza or Chinese this evening?”

“Chinese, yes, pizza, no. I’ve been warned by an Italian that Italians talk among themselves.”

“You know a place called Evergreen?”

“I’ve got their menu in my desk drawer.”

“Order a lot for me, then attend to your own needs.”

“That’s your job,” he said. “What time will you show?”

“Seven?”

“That’s good. Come in through the office door, that’s how the Chinese will arrive. I’ll buzz you in.”

“Will do. See ya.”

Stone called the restaurant, ordered a dozen dishes, and asked for a seven o’clock delivery, downstairs.

Joan came back in. “I’m done, unless there are goons to shoot.”

“Seems quiet. Have a nice evening.”

“You’re staying on?”

“I’m expecting Chinese in half an hour.”

“Enjoy!” She left for her apartment next door.

—

A
t seven sharp the office doorbell rang. Stone went and relieved the deliveryman of three shopping bags of food and paid him in cash. He closed the door and was picking up the bags when a man appeared at the door. He was large and rough-looking, and he began to look over the door and the lock, not realizing that Stone was on the other side of what amounted to a one-way mirror. He took something from his pocket and began to fool with the lock.

Stone set the bags aside, went into Joan’s office and retrieved her .45, then he went back to the door and jerked it open, the pistol ready. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, holding the gun shoulder high.

The man froze, then looked worried. “Sorry,” he said, “wrong house.”

“This is a dentist’s office,” Stone said. “Never mind the sign. If you come back you’ll leave minus some teeth.” The man hurried away just as a cab pulled up outside, and Caroline got out, carrying a large purse and a small suitcase.

“Hey,” she said, kissing him. “Was that who you’ve been expecting? I mean, there’s a .45 in your hand.”

“I believe it was,” Stone said. “He was trying to pick the lock.”

“That’s pretty brazen.”

“Yeah, I guess he thought there would be no one in the office this late, and he could get into the house this way. He was nearly right.” Stone picked up the food bags. “Let’s get to the kitchen. We’ve got two hundred dollars’ worth of Chinese food here, getting cold.”

He locked the door behind her and set the alarm, then led her through his office to the kitchen.

“This house just goes on and on, doesn’t it?”

“Sort of. I own the one next door, too. My people live there.”

“How many people?”

“Fred and Helene, my cook/housekeeper, and Joan Robertson, my secretary.”

“How convenient.”

“For everybody.” He set the food on the kitchen table. “I’ll get plates and some wine. You root around in that and see if there’s anything you like.” He set the table and put out half a dozen serving spoons, then got a bottle of good Chardonnay from the wine fridge and opened it.

“What would you like?”

“A couple of dumplings, lots of fried rice, General Tso’s Chicken, and the Grand Marnier Shrimp, for a start.”

She served them both and they ate greedily.

“I figured out why you have so many Matilda Stone paintings,” she said. “She was your mother.”

Stone’s mouth was full, so he just nodded.

“I looked her up on Wikipedia, and it said she had one son.”

Stone swallowed and washed it down with the wine. “You are correct,” he said.

“What was she like?”

“Just wonderful. She worked like a beaver all day and was transformed into a mother at quitting time.”

“I’m a little like that. I work like a beaver all day, then I turn into a sex maniac at quitting time.”