Outfoxed: An Andy Carpenter Mystery by David Rosenfelt

o’clock on Friday morning, just fifty-five hours before he and Pete will be sitting in my seats at the Giants-Eagles game.
    We’re meeting at an out-of-the-way diner in Englewood. My guess is that he was not anxious for his fellow cops to see him playing host to a defense attorney, which is probably why we aren’t at his office.
    I get here first, and five minutes later I see him walk in and look around for me. He knows who I am; about three years ago I cross-examined him at trial. It did not go well for him, but I’ve seen him a couple of times since, and he didn’t seem to bear a grudge.
    We exchange a few semipleasantries, and the waitress comes over to take our orders. He looks at the menu and then turns to me. “You are buying, I assume?”
    “I am.”
    He nods and proceeds to order enough food for three people. I order French toast and coffee, and the waitress leaves us.
    “So I wanted to talk about—” is how I begin, before he interrupts me.
    “Wait a minute; before you start, I just have to tell you about this incredible coincidence. Right after I agreed to meet with you, I got a call from my friend Pete Stanton. He invited me to the Giants game on Sunday.”
    “Isn’t that nice,” I say.
    “That’s not the amazing part. We’re actually going to be sitting in your seats. What are the odds against that?”
    “Astonishing … gives me the chills.”
    He nods. “Yup, it’s true. If someone didn’t know better, it would almost look like you bribed me with the tickets to have this talk. But that couldn’t be, because I don’t take bribes, and if you tried it, I would have to arrest you.”
    “So you’re saying I shouldn’t pay for your breakfast?”
    “Breakfast is fine. Lunch would be a problem; you try and buy me lunch and you’ll find yourself in handcuffs.”
    “A man with principles. Now can we get to this?” I ask, and he finally agrees.
    Leonard is a smart guy; before meeting with me he would certainly have done his homework and learned who it is I am representing. So there is no reason for me to hold back on it; he would see through it anyway.
    “As I’m sure you know, I am defending Brian Atkins on a double murder charge. Dominic Petrone’s name has come up in my investigation.”
    “Come up how?” he asks.
    “I can’t say; it’s privileged.”
    He frowns and leans forward. “Look, I’ve been trying to get Petrone for a very long time. I’ll tell you some things, if it doesn’t hurt my position to do so. But if you know anything that will help me, I need to hear them. This is not going only one way, tickets or no tickets.”
    “Fair enough,” I say. “But I can’t break a privilege; I know where the line is.”
    “Just make sure you draw it in the right place,” he says.
    I nod my agreement, and we move on. “Starlight is the company Gerry Wright and Brian Atkins founded. They struggled for a while and then hit it big by creating servers and routers that were faster than everyone else’s. Their primary use is in equity trading, and they give an advantage to companies using them. I don’t quite understand how it works; I’ll never understand how it works. But it’s real.”
    “Keep talking,” he says, though I had planned to anyway.
    “So Brian was gotten rid of by someone framing him and sending him to prison.” Leonard gives me a skeptical look, but I disregard it. “Now his partner has been killed, and, like I say, Petrone’s name has come up. What I want to know is if a guy like Petrone would want to move in on a company like that, or whether he would need what they’re selling.”
    “I am not aware of Petrone having a particular interest in the stock market, although I would assume he invests,” he says. “As a rule, the mob steers away from highly regulated industries; they prefer to fill vacuums. But of course it is not an ironclad rule.”
    “What about technology?”
    “What about it?” he asks.
    “Have they adapted to take advantage of