Fresh Disasters by Stuart Woods Page B

your position. And his.”
    “Then let’s do it.”
    Stone pressed a button on the phone. “Joan, will you please print out a copy of our standard contingency agreement and bring it in, please?”
    “Yes, Mr. Barrington,” she replied meekly.
    Bernice reached into her handbag, brought out a check and handed it over. “Will this do for a retainer?” she asked.
    It was written on her and her husband’s joint checking account and was made out for a hundred thousand dollars. “That’s very generous, Bernice,” he replied, handing it to Joan as she walked in with the agreement. He explained the terms of the contingency agreement, while she nodded along, then she signed the document and Joan took it away to notarize.
    Stone turned back to Bernice. “Have you thought about what you want in the way of a settlement?”
    “I want the money I got in the sale of my business, the Fifth Avenue apartment, and the house in the Hamptons. He can have Telluride and the love nest on Park Avenue. And I want half of everything else.”
    “I don’t think that’s unreasonable,” Stone said.
    “And the everything else includes the bank account in the Cayman Islands.”
    Stone’s eyebrows went up. “Do you have copies of the statements?”
    “They’re in the bank file,” she said. “Oh, and you should know that Bernie didn’t pay taxes on what’s in that account.”
    Stone’s heart leapt. “That’s good to know,” he said.
    She rose to go, and he walked her to the front door. “I’ll call Bernie and arrange a settlement conference,” he said, shaking her hand and closing the door behind her. He walked back to Joan’s office. “You hotfoot it to the bank and get that check cleared before Bernie finds out she wrote it, and I’ll dictate a complaint as soon as you get back. I want him served first thing tomorrow morning.”

22
    S tone walked into Elaine’s and sat down. Dino was already there with his usual Scotch, and Stone’s Knob Creek arrived immediately.
    “You look like you had a good day,” Dino said.
    “Why do you say that?” Stone asked, sipping the bourbon.
    “Well, you have a smile plastered on your face, and you don’t seem to be able to make it go away.”
    “Dino, nothing could make it go away.”
    “All right, tell me.”
    “Well, first of all, the lovely Celia and I had a very good evening together, which lasted until after breakfast.”
    Dino sighed. “I don’t suppose you’ll give me details.”
    “A gentleman doesn’t tell.”
    “What else?”
    “Second, Herbie Fisher has disappeared.”
    “That is good news.”
    “It gets better: He may be dead.”
    “Carmine Dattila?”
    “The primary suspect. Herbie hasn’t shown or called Bob Cantor for three days, and his apartment has been ransacked.”
    “Didn’t you say that Herbie owes Carmine’s bookie twenty-four grand?”
    “And counting.”
    “Well, it doesn’t make sense that Carmine would off him; he’ll never get his money that way.”
    “Maybe he’s mad enough, what with the lawsuit, that he just wants Herbie to go away. God knows, I can sympathize.”
    Dino shook his head. “Guys like Carmine don’t kill money. He would be more likely to get the money, then kill Herbie. Maybe that’s what he’s doing right now, torturing Herbie in a cellar somewhere, trying to get the money out of him.”
    “Well, I would certainly not want Herbie or anybody else to be tortured, even if he did bring it on himself by betting with bookies, failing to pay, then suing Carmine.”
    “But you don’t mind if Carmine offs him?”
    “I’d off him myself, if I thought I could get away with it.”
    “Well, the thought of Herbie dead isn’t enough to make you this happy. What else?”
    Stone fished an envelope out of his pocket. “Read this,” he said. “Bernie Finger is going to be served with it tomorrow morning, but I thought you’d enjoy seeing it first.”
    Dino opened the envelope and read the complaint. “Holy shit!” he