IT WAS RAINING AGAIN, but Stone didn’t have to look for a cab because Dino’s official SUV was standing by in the garage. They got into the backseat, the driver opened the garage door with his remote, and they drove into the street. They had driven halfway home, down Second Avenue, when the driver pulled over and stopped.
“Drop Barrington off at his house,” Dino said to the driver.
“Sure, Commissioner,” the driver said, putting a finger to his ear to listen to the radio. He turned around. “Commissioner, you’re wanted at Gracie Mansion ASAP.”
As he spoke, Dino’s phone buzzed. He answered it. “Yes, sir,” he said, then hung up and spoke to his driver. “Okay,” he said, “let’s get to Gracie Mansion. Hop out, Stone.”
“Can’t I come?” Stone asked, looking outside at the pouring rain.
“You’re not invited,” Dino said, reaching across Stone and opening the door on his side. A passing car nearly took off the door. “Beat it, pal.”
“Into traffic?” Stone asked. He crawled across Dino and let himself out on that side, stepping into ankle-deep water in the gutter.
“Is that better?” Dino asked.
“Oh, shut up,” Stone yelled, but the door had already slammed shut. The SUV was speeding away, its lights on. He ran across the sidewalk and found an awning to stand under while he waited for a cab. He saw one coming, but the shop door behind him burst open, and a woman ran across the sidewalk and threw herself in front of the taxi.
“Hey!” he yelled at the woman as she got in.
“Bye!” she yelled back and slammed the door. The cab’s overhead light turned off, and it drove away.
Stone thought about calling Fred, but he knew as soon as he did a cab would arrive. He stood there for another ten minutes before a cruising black town car pulled to the curb, and the window slid down. “Where you headed?” the driver yelled.
“Turtle Bay!” Stone yelled back. “Ten bucks!”
“Thirty!” the driver yelled.
“Twenty!”
“Thirty!” the driver yelled.
Stone ran across the sidewalk and dove into the town car.
“Up front,” the driver said, rubbing his fingers together.
Stone dug out his cash. “I’ve only got a fifty,” he said. “You got change?”
“Nope. I just started work. What’s it gonna be, pal?”
Stone gave him the fifty. “I’ll get change when we get there.”
AFTER FIFTEEN MINUTES of dangerous driving, the car pulled up to Stone’s house. “Hang on,” he said, “I’ll get some change.”
He got out and ran for the office door, then rang the bell. The town car drove away. “Hey!” Stone yelled at him.
Joan opened the door. “Hey, yourself,” she said, then pushed a finger into his lapel. “You’re soaking wet.”
Stone went inside and shook like a dog. Bob, his Labrador retriever, came over, sniffed at him, and backed away. “We went in Dino’s car,” he said, “so I didn’t take a coat or an umbrella, then Dino got a call and abandoned me.”
“Hang on,” Joan said, “the phone’s ringing.”
Stone shrugged off his sodden jacket and hung it on a hat rack; his trousers followed.
“It’s Dino,” Joan said, “on one.”
“Tell him to go fuck himself,” Stone said.
“I can’t tell the police commissioner that. He might have me arrested.”
“Okay,” Stone said, dumping out his shoes and squishing across the carpet in his stocking feet, “I’ll tell him myself.” He picked up the phone. “Go fuck yourself,” he said.
“I beg your pardon,” a woman’s voice said.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Deputy Mayor Whitehorn,” she said.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you were Dino Bacchetti.”
“Do I look like Dino Bacchetti?”
“I can’t see you.”
Dino came on the line. “Did you really tell Caroline to go fuck herself?”
“I thought it was you, but as long as you’re on the line, go fuck yourself.”
“The mayor has asked that you join us for a task force meeting on the Scott homicide.”
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“First, I’ll need to throw away all of my clothes, which have been ruined in the rain.”
“Why didn’t you take a cab?”
“Don’t start. I’ll be there in half an hour. If that’s not soon enough, you can tell the mayor to go—”
“Yeah, I know,” Dino interrupted. “Shake your ass.” He hung up.
“Joan!” Stone yelled. “Tell Fred to get the car out, while I change clothes.”
“Fred’s out.”
“Find him fast and get him here!” Stone went up to his bedroom, hung everything up in his bathroom to dry, and toweled off. He got into fresh clothes and went down to his office, where he pulled on a trench coat, jammed a hat on his head, and grabbed an umbrella.
“Fred’s waiting at the curb,” Joan said. “When will you be back?”
“Who the hell knows?” Stone said. He hit the outside door at a run, opening the umbrella, then he stopped. He was standing in bright sunshine. The only water around was dripping from the trees on the block. He got into the car.
“Where to, sir?” Fred asked.
“Gracie Mansion.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve never been there. What is it?”
“The mayor’s residence: Eighty-eighth and East End Avenue, approximately. Go there, and we’ll find it together.”
Fred headed uptown, splashing through huge puddles left by the rainstorm. They found the mayoral mansion, more or less where Stone had said it would be, and a guard admitted them to the grounds. Stone got out of his coat and left it with his hat and umbrella on the backseat. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, Fred. Don’t get lost.”
Someone opened the car door for him, and someone inside the house opened the front door. The inside door opener turned out to be a leggy blonde in a business suit.
“Hi,” she said, sticking out a hand. “I’m Caroline Whitehorn. I’ve recently gone and fucked myself. Right this way.”