STONE BARRINGTON WAS having a drink in his office with Dino Bacchetti. As one might expect in a conversation between one of New York City’s top attorneys and the New York City police commissioner, weighty matters were being discussed. At the moment, the bone of contention was where to have dinner.
In the past, it was always Elaine’s. Since it closed, the choice was often Patroon, but tonight Dino was lobbying for Peter Luger, the famed Brooklyn steakhouse.
“I don’t think so,” Stone said.
“What do you have against Peter Luger?” Dino wanted to know.
“I have nothing against Peter Luger. It’s too late to get a reservation.”
“I’m the New York City police commissioner. Do you really think I can’t get a reservation?”
“Wouldn’t that be abuse of power?”
“Absolutely. It’s the only reason I took the job.”
“Aw, come on, Dino. Think of the people who will be canceled to make room.”
“No one will be canceled. Someone will get crowded closer to the kitchen.”
The phone rang. Stone scooped it up. “Hello?”
“Hi, Stone.”
“Billy!” Stone said. Then to Dino, “Hey, Dino, it’s Billy Barnett.”
“Invite him to dinner,” Dino said.
“Dino and I were just planning dinner.”
“I’m in L.A.”
“That makes it harder.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“We were just talking about it. Dino’s pushing Peter Luger.”
“Wish I were there. I love their steak. Why are you arguing?”
“We don’t have a reservation.”
“And Dino thinks they’ll serve him anyway?”
“Ever since they made him commissioner he’s got a swelled head.”
“Hey, I’m right here,” Dino protested.
“So why did you call?” Stone said.
“Actually, I was calling about dinner,” Teddy said. “I can’t make it tonight, but how about tomorrow?”
“That would be great. Where do you want to eat?”
“Paris.”