Joan buzzed Stone. “Herbie on one.”
Stone picked up. “Hey, Herb, how did the arraignment go?”
“I got the charges dropped, without prejudice. I explained to her what that meant.”
“How the hell did you get that done?”
“The prosecution was surprised when I told the judge that the ballistics on the dumpster .38 were not a match for either murder, and they did not yet have a ballistics report on the second gun. In fact, they appeared to not be aware of the snub-nosed .38 found in her underwear drawer, which she says belonged to her late spouse. Four rounds in the cylinder had been fired. Roberta says that Randy did that, shooting at her. Presumably, they’re still in her living room wall.”
“I can get a private crime-scene team from Strategic Services over there to dig them out.”
“Why bother? Either the gun will be a match or not. Let the slugs rest in peace for the cops to find and save the money.”
“What’s your next step?”
“I don’t have a next step,” Herb said. “She fired me while getting into a cab.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Don’t worry, I am vastly relieved, though I’ll bet she stiffs me on my bill.”
“I’ll cover it, if she does.”
“Thanks, pal.”
“I’m sorry she turned out to be such a pain in the ass.”
“I think she was probably born that way. See ya.” Herb hung up.
Stone hung up and thought about what was going on.
Joan buzzed. “Dino on one.”
Stone picked up. “Hey.”
“You ready? The .38 snub-nosed the cops found in Robbie’s underwear drawer is not the murder weapon, either.”
“That’s very interesting. When did you hear from ballistics?”
“Let’s see, about forty seconds ago.”
“So Robbie couldn’t know about the report?”
“Nope.”
“And yet, she fired Herbie Fisher without knowing about the report. The judge had dismissed her charges without prejudice, and she knew what that meant.”
“So, you’re thinking she knew that the gun in her underwear drawer wouldn’t be a match?”
“She may be crazy, but she isn’t stupid. She would know she’d need a lawyer if the underwear drawer .38 was a match.”
“And she didn’t know that it wasn’t, yet,” Dino said.
“Nope.”
“You want dinner?”
“Sure.”
“Seven at P.J.’s?”
“See you then.” They both hung up
Joan buzzed. “I’ve got Robbie, holding on two.”
Stone picked up. “Congratulations, Robbie,” he said. “You’re lucky you had Herb Fisher for an attorney.”
“Why is that?”
“You’d be in a cell at Rikers Island right now, if not for him.”
“I didn’t like him. I fired him.”
“Robbie, we’re still waiting for the ballistics report on the gun found in your underwear drawer. If it’s a match, you’ll be arrested again, and you won’t get bail.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. They can’t arrest me again.”
“Why do you think that?”
She was silent for a moment, and Stone could hear the wheels turning in her head. “Because,” she said finally. “Now I want you for my lawyer.”
“I’m far too busy to take you on at this time,” Stone replied. “And if you were stupid enough to fire Herb, I wouldn’t want you for a client, in any case.”
“I’m telling you, the gun in my house won’t be a match.”
“Then why would you need a lawyer?” Stone asked. “Goodbye, Robbie.” He hung up and buzzed Joan.
“Yes, sir?”
“If Roberta Calder calls again—for any reason—I’m not available.”
“Gotcha,” Joan said.
P. J. Clarke’s was jammed, as usual. Stone grabbed a seat at the bar when someone got up. The bartender set down a Knob Creek on the rocks.
“You want me to pour Dino’s now?”
“No, he’ll bitch about it being watered down by the melting ice.”
Dino came in, and the bartender poured. “Well, how’d the rest of your day go?”
“You mean the fifteen minutes between when you hung up and I hung up on Robbie?”
“You did? Really?”
“And I told Joan to tell her I’m unavailable, when she calls back.”
“Has she got your cell number?”
“I’m not sure, but if she has it, she’ll be on the phone again. She wanted me to replace Herbie.”
“Did she have any comment on the second gun?”
“Yes, she said it won’t be a match. She seemed certain about that.”
“I’ve already tipped the team on the case that she seemed to know that.”
“Oh, good. God help the next lawyer she hires.”
Dino took a swig of his scotch. “Do you think she has the moxie to pull off a double murder like this?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so, but these days, there are so many murders being solved on TV shows that everybody’s an expert on not getting caught. You know: wear gloves, wash your hands in perfume, wear a hoodie to thwart the cameras, and so on.”
“Until they get caught.”
“If she doesn’t have that moxie you’re talking about, then only dumb luck has gotten her this far,” Stone said.
“I don’t believe in dumb luck where double homicides are involved,” Dino replied.
Stone glanced in the mirror and caught more than a glimpse of Roberta Calder walking into Clarke’s with an attorney he knew a little. “Check out the mirror,” he said to Dino.
“Who’s the guy?” Dino asked.
“Carter Simmons. He’s from a white-shoe firm in Midtown, handles white-collar crimes.”
“You think this is a job interview?” Dino asked.
“What else?” Stone replied. “I wish I could think of a way to tip off the poor bastard without her knowing.”