“Do me a favor and put Ernie on the phone.”
“He don’t like it when I wake him.”
“He won’t like missing the money I’m gonna offer him.”
“All right, I’ll try. Hang on.” She put the phone down, and Frank could hear a couple of kids babbling and whining in the background.
“What’s going on?” Charlie asked, wiping the rain from his eyes.
“She’s getting Ernie for me.”
“Hello?” Ernie sounded sleepy and pissed off.
“Ernie, it’s me from yesterday. I need a cab at the airport now.”
“I don’t work on Sundays.”
“Two hundred dollars,” Frank said.
“Not even for two hundred.”
“Tell you what, Ernie, I’ll rent your car for a couple of hours for two hundred, and I’ll drive it myself.”
“Listen, that’s a classic Plymouth—can’t be replaced.”
“Come on, Ernie, how much?”
“Five hundred.”
“Done. Get your ass to the airport.” Frank hung up. “He’ll be here in a minute.” They joined the pilot, who was already inside the airplane. The rain pounded on the aluminum top.
—
Stone and Caroline went down for breakfast; he wanted to get Caroline dressed and out of the bedroom before she killed him. Mary made omelets with cheese and ham and gave them freshly squeezed orange juice and sensational coffee.
After breakfast Stone checked the radar on his iPhone. “Looks great,” he said. “The thunderstorms have passed, and we’ve got a clear shot at Teterboro.”
“Can’t we wait until tomorrow?” Caroline asked.
“Nope, another line of thunderstorms is coming tomorrow,” he lied. Stone didn’t like lying, but his health was at stake.
“I’d better pack, then.” She went upstairs, then came back with her bag and his. “I packed for you, too,” she said.
Seth brought the old station wagon around and drove them to the airport. A mile down the road they passed Ernie’s taxi going the other way. “Who was that driving Ernie’s cab?” Stone asked Seth. “I thought he didn’t work Sundays.”
“I dunno,” Seth said. “T’wasn’t Ernie, though.”
At the airport the rain had finally stopped; Stone loaded their luggage and began a preflight. He noticed that Ernie was sitting in a Cessna 182 parked on the ramp.
—
Frank pulled into Barrington’s driveway, and he and Charlie got out. He rang the doorbell politely, and braced himself to kick it open if he met resistance.
A gray-haired woman in an apron appeared and opened the door. “May I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Barrington, please.”
“You just missed him,” the woman replied. “He left for the airport a few minutes ago.”
“Thank you,” Frank said, and he and Charlie ran for Ernie’s cab. It started reluctantly, then Frank floored the thing.
“I hope we don’t miss him,” Charlie said helpfully.
“This thing won’t do more than forty,” Frank replied, stomping on the accelerator. They made the turn at the airport sign and raced toward the runway, just in time to see Barrington’s jet taxi off the ramp.
—
Okay,” Stone said, turning around at the end of the runway, “short-field takeoff. Flaps at the first notch, brakes on, full power.” He pushed the throttles forward, then waited with the brakes on until he had the engines roaring. “Here we go!” He released the brakes, and they were pressed back into their seats.
“Are we going to make it?” Caroline asked, tightening her seat belt.
“I’ll let you know in a minute,” Stone said. He pulled back on the yoke, and the airplane rose from the runway. “We made it!” Stone said. “Gear and flaps up.” They climbed into the newly clear blue sky.
—
Back at the airport, Frank and Charlie stared at the departing jet.
“Well,” Frank said, “at least we know where he’s going.”
Ernie walked over. “That’ll be five hundred.”
Back at Teterboro, Stone turned their luggage over to a lineman and walked into the terminal with Caroline.
“Sweetheart,” he said, “I’m going to need a break.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “You had a really good run there, but I’m greedy and hard to keep up with.”
“I couldn’t have put it better,” he said. They got into the car. “What’s your address?”
“I’m in Soho.”
“Fred, you can drop me first, then take Ms. Woodhouse downtown?”
“Righto, sir.”
They arrived at Stone’s house. He kissed Caroline and opened the door.
“Call me when you’ve recovered your health,” she said, smiling.
Stone limped into the house and upstairs. He stretched out on the bed, ready for a nap. The phone rang. “Hello.”
“You’re back,” Dino said.
“I noticed that.”
“I tried you in Maine, but no reply.”
“I’m not there anymore.”
“I thought maybe she might have fucked you to death.”
“Close.”
“Viv’s actually in town for a change. You want to join us for dinner?”
“Sure.”
“Bilboquet at seven-thirty?”
“I thought they closed.”
“They reopened.” Dino gave him the new address, right around the corner from his building.
“You bringing a date?”
“I don’t think I could look at an unmarried woman right now.”
“You’ll get over that.” Dino hung up.
The old Bilboquet had been an indoor postage stamp; the new one was roomier. Dino and Viv were already there. He kissed Viv on the forehead and sat down.
“I hear you’ve been exercising strenuously,” Viv said drily.
“I’m slowly recovering my health. A drink would help.”
Drinks arrived, and they toasted nothing in particular.
“How was Maine?” Viv asked.
“Don’t start.”
“I mean the actual, geographical Maine.”
“I didn’t see a lot of it,” Stone said. “The flight home was nice, though.”
“I take it you’ve figured out how to get the jet in and out of that tiny airport,” Dino said.
“All it took was good brakes landing, full power taking off, and great piloting skills.”
“Have you heard from Gino Parisi’s friends?”
“We had a quiet weekend without them.”
“It was a smart move, going up there where they couldn’t find you. I’ve since heard even more terrible things about Frank and his friend Charlie.”
“I’m happy to have missed them.”
“You need to go on doing that. You didn’t take a cab up here, did you?”
“No, Fred drove me.”
“Good. I don’t want you on the sidewalk waving your arms.”
“Thank you, I will follow that advice, until you tell me the coast is clear.”
“Is Perado still in town?”
“Yep. We close the sale on the Winkle business tomorrow morning. He’ll be going straight back to San Antonio from the closing.”
“Smart move. It shouldn’t take us much longer to get something on Parisi that we can convict him of, then he’ll be out of your hair—and Perado’s.”
“You mean I can’t leave the house until that happens?”
“I wouldn’t advise it. After all, you’ve got Helene to cook—you don’t really have to live on pizza and Chinese.”
“If I can’t go out, then maybe I should have a dinner party. I don’t do that often enough.”
“That’s right, you don’t. Who will you invite?”
“All the old familiar faces. Like you two.”
“We’ll look forward to it.”
“Tell me when you’re free—you’re a lot busier than I am.”
Dino checked his calendar on his iPhone. “Let’s see, how about the day after tomorrow?”
“Great. Drinks at seven, dinner at eight.”
“Done.”
Dino, who was seated facing the street, got up. “Excuse me for a minute.” He walked away from the table and out of the restaurant.