Kisser

STONE HAD NEVER EXPERIENCED a night quite like it. The pizza had revived them, and after having stuffed the ear bug into his sock drawer, they began again.

Now, at ten in the morning, they were having breakfast in Stone’s garden, snug behind the ivy-covered brick walls on either side of them and facing the Turtle Bay Common Garden at the end.

The girls seemed fresh as a daisy—showered, shampooed, coifed, and made up, their clothes freshly pressed with Helene’s iron. Stone was freshly showered, shaved, and dressed, too, but despite his having drunk a cup of strong Italian coffee—and he was now drinking his second—he felt tired, sore, and sleepy.

“Do you have any important work to do today, Stone?” Rita asked.

“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow,” he mumbled.

“Then maybe you should go back to bed,” she said.

“And maybe we could join you!” Mitzi offered.

Stone held up his hands in a gesture of pleading. “Not today; maybe never again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Mitzi said.

“What I need is a massage,” Stone replied.

“I’d love to do that, but I’ve got a meeting at the precinct.”

“Thank God,” Stone said.

“And I have to go to work,” Rita added.

“And good luck to you.”

Mitzi spoke again. “The meeting downtown is about our next step with Derek Sharpe.”

“What about Sig Larsen?” Stone asked.

“The feds have taken an interest in him. We’re going to give them the recordings that you and I make.”

“That you and I make when?” Stone asked.

“Perhaps as early as this evening,” Mitzi said, “so you’d better get some rest.”

“Has Brian Doyle explained to you how dangerous this is, and why?”

“You mean from Derek’s rivals in the drug game?”

“I do.”

“I’m not particularly worried about that; we’ll be well protected. Still, I’m going to armor up, and you should, too.”

Stone nodded.

The girls got up and took turns kissing him.

“And don’t forget your ear bug,” Mitzi said.

“I think you’re going to get a hard time from the guys at your meeting,” Stone said.

“Oh, no; they’ll save that for you, and it will be mostly admiration. They have no idea who you were with last night.”

“I hope not,” Stone said, waving good-bye to them.

LATER, STONE WAS so zonked out on the massage table that the masseuse had to turn him over when the time came. He had no memory of it when she finished. She helped him to the bed, and he fell into it, his body an oily overcooked noodle.

IT WAS a little after five when Mitzi called. “We’re on for tonight,” she said.

“Do we have to go to Sharpe’s studio? It’s dangerous there.”

“No, this is about Sig and my so-called money, so we’re meeting at 740 Park at seven. After Sig makes his pitch and we’ve recorded that for the benefit of the feds, I’ll take Derek aside and tell him I need some drugs for a friend.”

“Good. Don’t tell him you’re a user, or he’ll make you use some with witnesses around.”

“My story is that I use only booze, which is all he’s seen me use.”

“What are you going to ask him for?”

“Half a pound of marijuana and five ounces of coke.”

“Are you going to have cash?”

“I’ve already signed for it.”

“You’re not going to get a receipt for the drugs, you know.”

“Don’t worry, we have a bookkeeping way of keeping track of that.”

“You should insist that he give you the drugs in the apartment, too, not at his place and especially not in a car.”

“Yeah, yeah, Stone, I know. We’ve worked all that out. Can you be at the apartment at six thirty?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“We can have dinner afterward,” she said.

“Okay. See you then.” He hung up.

He had just gotten out of the shower when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“How much longer is this going to go on?”

“I hope not much longer.”

“Me, too. I’ve been working hard, and I miss you.”

“Same here,” he said, but he didn’t sound very convincing.

“You sound funny.”

“I just had a massage, and I’m half asleep.”

“Oh.”

“Any movement from Max?”

“Not a peep out of him. Tomorrow’s the last day I’m using the Leahys. I really don’t feel threatened.”

“I would advise you to keep them on for another week, at least.”

“They’re expensive!”

“You can afford it. Max’s check cleared, didn’t it?”

“It’s already in T-bills,” she said.

“Keep them on for another week.”

“We’ll see. Bye-bye, sweetie.” She hung up.

Stone struggled out of bed and into some clothes. He was about to leave his bedroom, but he remembered something. He went to his sock drawer, retrieved the ear bug, and slipped it into the ticket pocket of his jacket.

He arrived at Rita’s apartment on time, and Mitzi greeted him with a big kiss. She leaned into his left ear. “You were sensational last night.”

“So were you,” he said, “but you don’t have to whisper; the bug’s in my pocket.”

“Mine’s in my ear,” she whispered, “so be careful.”

Stone nodded.

Mitzi held out her hand. “Give it to me,” she mouthed.

He dug out the bug and handed it to her, and she stuffed it into his right ear and pushed it home with the tip of her little fingernail.

“All set, guys,” she said. “They should be along in about twenty minutes,” she said to the air. “In the meantime, all you’re going to hear is the clink of ice cubes.” She went to the bar and poured them each a Knob Creek.

Stone accepted it gratefully, then sat down to rest and wait.