Kisser

STONE MET DINO at Elaine’s at eight thirty. “You’re off the hook for shooting Hildy,” he said.

“What do you mean, ‘off the hook’?” Dino said. “I was never on the hook.”

“You’re just lucky no one searched you and found the .22.”

“There was no luck involved. The Connecticut State Police were not going to search an NYPD lieutenant.”

“That’s why you’re off the hook. I spoke with her father this afternoon, and he’s good with it, too. I think he suspects something, but he got his daughter back, so he’s not going to make a fuss.”

“Is Hildy going to get nailed for her part in this thing?” Dino asked.

“No. I sat in on her questioning this afternoon. She played dumb and innocent, too.”

“But she had to know something about what Sharpe was doing.”

“Maybe, but she doesn’t now, so she’s not going to have to testify against him.” Stone picked up a menu. “You ready to order?”

“I’m expecting a guest,” Dino said. “Let’s wait.”

The waiter brought them both another drink, and Dino kept checking his wristwatch.

Finally, the door opened, and the commissioner entered, preceded by Mitzi, who looked smashing in a red dress.

Stone stood up, shook her hand, then the commissioner’s. “Good evening, sir,” he said. “I didn’t know you frequented Elaine’s.”

“I have been coming here since Giuliani was mayor,” the commissioner replied, looking around. He turned to the waiter. “You got any single malts?”

The waiter recited the list, and the commissioner chose one. “The lady will have a Beefeater’s martini with a twist, not too dry,” he said.

Stone shot a glance at Mitzi, but she was not looking at him. However, she delivered a sharp kick to his ankle under the table.

The drinks came, and the commissioner raised his glass. “To successful operations,” he said, “and to those who carry them out, even when unexpected circumstances occur.”

They all drank, and then they ordered dinner.

“Aren’t we missing the, ah, leader of the operation?” Stone asked.

“Oh, Lieutenant Doyle is home studying, I expect,” the commissioner said.

“He has been promoted to inspector, and tomorrow he starts his new job as lecturer on tactics at the police academy, his reward for a job well done.”

“That said, I think we should raise our glasses to Mitzi,” the commissioner said. “This afternoon she was promoted to lieutenant, and tomorrow she will command the detective squad at the First Precinct.”

Stone’s mouth dropped open, and Mitzi reached over, placed a finger under his chin, and closed it. “Congratulations,” he managed to say.

Dino spoke up. “I heard there were some transfers from that squad,” he said, “to new assignments in Brooklyn.”

“Yes,” the commissioner replied, “all promotions. Mitzi will pick her own people.”

The commissioner looked at her. “All of them women?”

She regarded him evenly. “Yes, sir.”

Dinner was served. When they were done, the commissioner stood up, followed by Mitzi. “We have to be going,” he said. “Barrington, give me your badge,” he said.

Stone fished out his Doyle-provided badge and handed it over.

The commissioner placed a small velvet box on the table. “Open it,” he said.

Stone picked up the box and opened it. Inside was a retirement badge for a Detective First Grade. From its weight, he judged it to be not plated but solid gold.

The commissioner handed him an envelope. “Here are your retirement papers,” he said, “at your new grade.” He shook everyone’s hand and left, taking Mitzi with him.

“You should be. By the way, I’m your date for the theater tomorrow night.”

“You were hoping Mitzi? Not going to happen. Carrie sent me a single ticket, too, for the seat next to yours. In fact, I don’t think you’re going to be seeing as much of Mitzi in the future.”

“Word is, the commissioner is retiring.”

“Word is, he’s getting married, too.”

Stone stared at him. “You wouldn’t kid me?”