Kisser

MITZI LOOKED INQUIRINGLY AT STONE. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, stepping forward, taking Carrie by an elbow and steering her away from Mitzi and the others. She tried to snatch her arm away, but he held on tightly.

“Don’t say anything,” he said, marching her across the room toward an unoccupied corner.

“I’ll say whatever I damn well please,” Carrie spat.

“Not until you’ve heard me out.” He stopped and turned her so that her back was toward the group across the room. “Remember that police operation Dino and I were talking about last night?”

“It’s happening right now, and Mitzi is a part of it.”

Carrie brightened. “Oh, she’s going to be arrested? This I want to see.” She tried to turn around, but Stone stopped her.

“Mitzi is a New York City police officer,” he said.

Carrie screwed her face into an incredulous glare. “That is the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard! You’re going to have to come up with a better story than that.”

“No, I don’t,” Stone said firmly, “and unless you can accept the fact and keep your mouth shut I’m going to throw you out of here right now.”

“And how does a shrimper’s daughter get to be a New York cop?” Carrie demanded.

“Some years ago, she took the police exam, was accepted, and graduated from the academy. She served as a street cop for several years before she was promoted to detective. That’s how it’s done.”

“I haven’t formed the habit of lying to you or anybody else,” Stone said, “and if you repeat any of this to anyone, you will put Mitzi’s life in danger, and that is no exaggeration.”

Carrie stood there smoldering, avoiding Stone’s gaze.

She wheeled on him. “Yes!” she said. “And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be going.” She turned and yelled across the room, “Paco!!!”

The willowy young man came trotting across the space.

“Well, I’m not,” he replied. “There’s somebody I want to meet.” He gazed across the room at another young man.

Stone guided Carrie toward the elevator. “Downstairs there’s a black Bentley Arnage, driven by a very large man. Tell him I said to take you wherever you want to go and he’s to be back here in no more than an hour.”

“I’ll make my own arrangements,” she said, then marched into the elevator.

Stone rejoined the others. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “A misunderstanding.”

She pressed a speed-dial number and handed Stone the phone.

Stone stepped away. “Tom, it’s Stone. There’s a beautiful blonde named Carrie on her way down. Put her in the car, take her somewhere else, then come back as soon as you can. Don’t be more than an hour.”

“I’ll call you when I’m back,” Tom said. “Here she comes now.” He hung up.

Stone handed Mitzi her phone. “That’s taken care of.” At least for the moment, he thought.

“Oh, good,” Mitzi said. “Derek was just telling me about how he does his work. It’s fascinating.”

“I’ll bet,” Stone said, trying to keep the irony out of his voice.

AN HOUR LATER, Mitzi answered her phone. She listened, then hung up. “My driver is back,” she said.

“The party seems to be winding down,” Sharpe said. “Why don’t we get some dinner?”

“Sure, why not?” Stone said. He noted that Hildy didn’t seem to have any objections.

They rode down in the elevator with the last of the celebrants, and Tom was waiting out front with the Bentley.

“I’ll take the front seat,” Stone said, and got in while Tom held the door for the others.

“Where to, Ms. Reynolds?” Tom asked when he was in the car.

“Derek,” she said, “we’re in your hands.”

Sharpe gave directions, and soon they were stopping outside a chic-looking restaurant. Stone hardly ever came downtown, so he didn’t know it.

They went inside, where Sharpe was fawned over by the manager and the reservations lady before they were shown to a big table in the center of the room. Sharpe ordered a bottle of expensive wine and menus.

“I hope you like sushi,” Sharpe said to the group.

Stone detested sushi but said nothing. The menus came, and he began looking for something cooked. He was relieved to find a shrimp teriyaki and ordered that, while the others chose raw things.

“So, Mitzi,” Sharpe said. “How long have you been in town?”

“A few weeks, off and on. I bought an apartment uptown, and I’ve been seeing to the decorating.”

“Oh,” Hildy said, “let me have your address and number.” Mitzi fished a card from her purse and handed it to her. Sharpe took it from her, looked at it, froze for a moment, then handed it back to Hildy. “Nice neighborhood,” he said.

“How did you ever find it?” Hildy asked. “You never see anything listed in that building.”

“It was a private sale,” Mitzi said smoothly. “A friend of my family owned it.”

“That’s the best way,” Hildy said. “Did you have any problems with the co-op board? I hear they can be tough.”

“None at all,” Mitzi said. “In fact, they were rather sweet.” Stone admired how, in a few words, Mitzi had told them that she came from money, serious enough to impress a board made up of people with serious money.

“Perfectly,” Mitzi replied. “My decorator brought over the last pair of lamps today.”

Stone nudged her under the table. Ralph Lauren did not deliver lamps. Mitzi was going too far.

“I’ve never heard of Ralph personally doing decorating jobs,” Hildy said.

“He and Daddy are old friends,” Mitzi replied. “Daddy was one of Ralph’s first backers many years ago, when he was still in the necktie business.”

This, Stone thought, was a high-wire performance. He hoped to God that Philip Parsons and Ralph were not old friends.

Hildy answered his question. “How interesting. My father and Ralph are old friends, too. Ralph has bought a number of pictures from him.”

“Oh, is your daddy in the art business?” Mitzi replied.

“Oh, of course. I didn’t make the connection. A lovely gallery it is, too. I bought a Hockney there.”

“Your father was busy with something else that day.”

This was out of control. Stone tried desperately to think of a way to change the subject. Fortunately, dinner arrived.