Kisser

MITZI LOOKED AT STONE over the rim of her glass of Knob Creek. “You seem a little down,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

Mitzi adjusted her push-up bra. “I thought you liked it.”

“Not that bust,” Stone said, laughing in spite of himself. “Sharpe and Larsen.”

“Sounds like a Dickensian accounting firm, doesn’t it?” Mitzi said.

“Oh, come on, Stone. It’s pretty straightforward, once we cover all our bases.”

“We don’t even know where all the bases are,” Stone said.

“Brian and Tom had a meeting with the U.S. Attorney this afternoon and asked for some of her people. That should help.”

Stone admired her bust again. “Do you have a vest that will protect those?”

“You think Derek is going to shoot me in the apartment?”

“I don’t know what to think. How are you going to pay for the drugs?”

“Sharpe is going to want real money, not a bad check.”

“By the deposit stamp on the back of the check.”

“You’re not going to get a New York banker to tell Sharpe that your check has cleared and the funds are available.”

“No. An FBI agent on the banker’s phone line will confirm that. The bank isn’t liable for what an FBI agent says to Sharpe, especially since they won’t know what the agent is telling him.”

“You shouldn’t be so self-effacing,” Stone said. “It won’t do you any good. Brian will get all the kudos from the bust, and he’ll leave you high and dry.”

“Only if he gets kicked upstairs,” she said. “Otherwise, they’ll give me a squad in Staten Island or someplace way out in Queens. But if Brian does get kicked upstairs I’ll have a shot, mostly because there’s not much competition at the precinct.”

“They’ll transfer you either way; they’re not going to put a woman in charge of a squad of guys she’s been working with. Never happen.”

“Good luck to you,” Stone said, raising his glass.

Dino came through the door and shot Stone a questioning glance.

“You think I didn’t expect to have dinner with Dino, too?” she asked.

Dino sat down and ordered a Scotch. “You two still drinking that Kentucky swill?” he asked by way of a greeting.

“I don’t trust any booze that has to take a boat here,” Mitzi said. “Also, my daddy once told me he’d disinherit me if I drank un-American.”

Dino looked at Stone, then at Mitzi. “What’s the matter with him?” he asked her.

“What have you got to be worried about?” he asked Stone. “Let the cops take care of it.”

Mitzi looked at both of them askance. “What is it with you guys? Brian’s not so bad.”

“We’ve known him longer than you have,” Dino said. “He’s the kind of guy who’ll take credit for your work.”

“It isn’t enough for Brian to take the credit,” Stone explained. “For him to feel good about himself, he has to make everybody else look bad.”

“Oh, really!” Mitzi laughed. “Why don’t you two get him in here, then put ’em on the table and we’ll measure.”

“Mitzi,” Stone said, “has Brian ever complimented you on your work?”

“Has he ever said anything good about you to your captain?”

“Well,” she said, “I assume he passed it up the line; he said he would.”

“Have you ever read your file after a performance review?” Dino asked.

“Has he ever given you a positive review that didn’t make it sound like he was responsible for your success?”

“Let me guess what he had to say,” Dino said. “He said something like, ‘This officer has responded well to the training and advice of her commander.’ ”

Mitzi’s brow furrowed, a strange sight. “I think I see what you mean,” she said softly.

“Who’s your rabbi?” Stone asked. “Not Brian, I trust.”

“I have other friends in the department,” she said uncertainly.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” Dino said, as if he didn’t entirely believe her.

Nobody spoke again until a waiter came to take their orders.