Brian Doyle interrupted him. “That’s when we got involved,” Brian said.

Stone fought back. “Yes, that’s when I called Lieutenant Doyle and suggested he might be interested in Sharpe. I don’t believe he had heard of him until then.”

Doyle turned red. “Sharpe was already on my radar, but we hadn’t yet had cause to move.” He explained in some detail the involvement of Mitzi and Tom, leaving out Stone whenever possible.

Stone used the opportunity to take a smaller bite of the Danish, which helped cool his tongue. “Then Sig Larsen entered the picture,” he said. “I can understand why Lieutenant Doyle wasn’t interested in him, and I wasn’t surprised to hear that the U.S. Attorney became involved.”

“And that’s why we’re here,” the commissioner said. “To coordinate the two investigations.”

“Actually,” Tiffany said, “I don’t want to assign investigative personnel to this matter at this point. Lieutenant Doyle seems to have the situation well in hand.”

“Thank you, Ms. Baldwin,” Doyle said.

“Then there’s nothing to coordinate?” the commissioner asked.

“All we need is your go-ahead to proceed, sir,” Doyle said.

“I would have given that on the phone,” the commissioner said, rising to his feet and snagging a Danish. He wrapped it in a napkin and put it in his jacket pocket. “Good day to you all,” he said, and marched toward the door. But before reaching it he stopped and said, “ Barrington, step outside with me.”

Stone reluctantly set down his Danish and followed. The sugar was making its way to his brain now, and he was thinking more clearly. He followed the commissioner out of the office and through the reception area into the hallway outside.

“Listen,” the commissioner said to Stone. “Has Doyle really got this thing in hand?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Stone said truthfully. “So far, I’ve been used as a beard for Detective Reynolds for the most part.”

“Not a bad place to be,” the commissioner said with a little smirk.

“She’s a very competent detective,” Stone said, not wishing to mention her other area of expertise.

“I’m going uptown,” the commissioner said. “Can I give you a lift?”

“Thank you, sir, yes,” Stone said. A detective came out of the office with Stone’s coat and umbrella. They took the elevator to the basement garage and got into the commissioner’s black Lincoln, which followed a black SUV and led another, and shortly they were motoring through driving rain. Stone kept quiet, knowing that the commissioner didn’t like small talk.

“How come you never made detective first grade?” the commissioner asked suddenly.

Stone was surprised he knew that. “I was due for promotion at the time I was retired for medical reasons,” Stone said.

“Bullet to the knee, wasn’t it?”

“That and a lot of precinct politics,” Stone said. “I disagreed with the direction an investigation was taking, and somebody wanted me out. The knee was an excuse.”

“Ah, yes, the Nijinsky investigation. I heard some stuff about it at the time,” the commissioner said. “I was captain of the First Precinct, and shortly after that I got moved up the ladder. I reread the file when Doyle wanted you reactivated. I know how to read between the lines. If it’s any consolation, I added an addendum, correcting the impression your captain left in it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Stone said, surprised. “That was very kind of you.”

“I hear you’ve done all right since leaving the department,” the commissioner said.

“I can’t complain,” Stone said.

“You might have done better, if you’d had Brian Doyle’s political instincts.”

Stone said nothing.

“Doyle will go far,” the commissioner said, “but only so far. Somebody will cut him off at the knees before he gets to my office.”

“There’s usually somebody willing to do that,” Stone agreed.

The car came to a halt in front of Stone’s house. He had forgotten how fast a police motorcade could move through traffic.

The commissioner shook Stone’s hand. “Try not to let anybody get hurt in this investigation,” he said, holding on to Stone’s hand. “That’s not the sort of thing Doyle thinks about.”

“I’ll do my best,” Stone said. “Thank you for the lift.”

Stone opened the car door, got his umbrella outside first, and ran for his office door.

Joan looked surprised to see him back. “How’d it go?” she asked.

Stone hung up his wet coat. “Better than I could have hoped,” he said. “The commissioner is a better guy than I had thought.”

The phone began ringing.

JOAN HANDED THE CALL OFF to Stone. “Hello?”

“It’s Mitzi.”

“Hi.”

“Where did you go?”

“The commissioner wanted to talk to me, and he offered me a ride uptown.”

“Brian is livid.”

“Because I left his meeting?”

“Because you left with the commissioner.”

“Oh.”

“Tiffany Baldwin was a little upset, too, but she hid it better. I think she didn’t want to share you with the commissioner.”

“If you say so,” Stone said.

“What did you and the commissioner talk about?”

“He wanted to talk about old times,” Stone said.

“You had old times together?”

“Not exactly. He apparently followed a case I worked right before I left the department.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Does that mean I’m not supposed to ask?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we have more time.”

“And when is that going to be?”

“I’m at your beck and call,” Stone said. “You tell me.”

“I’ll have to place another order with Derek Sharpe first,” she said.

“And when is that going to happen?”

“We’re letting him stew a bit; besides, I don’t want to appear too eager.”

“If it’s any help, I think Sharpe and Larsen are going to decamp.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because they’re both involved in enterprises that can’t continue forever without their getting caught, and I think they’re too smart to wait too long. I think you should see Sharpe for coffee and place a really big order.”

“How big?”

“Forget the marijuana. Ask him for ten kilos of cocaine, and imply that the orders could grow. You want to order enough to appeal to his greed; he’ll hang around a little longer for a big sale.”

“Good idea,” she said. “I’ll run it by Brian.”

“Don’t tell him it was my idea; he’ll screw it up just to spite me.”

“So I get all the credit?”

“And all the blame if it spooks Sharpe.”

“You said have coffee with him?”

“Don’t go to his studio; he’ll rape you.”

“Yuck. Coffee it is.”

“Some place where Tom can see you from the street.”

“Okay.”

“When you’ve got the buy set up, tell Sharpe you want the delivery at your apartment. He ought to be comfortable there now.”

“All right. Then after we bust him, you and I will celebrate.”

“You’re on,” Stone said. He hung up, and the phone rang immediately.

“It’s Tiffany Baldwin,” Joan said.

“Hello?”

“What did you do to get the commissioner to get you out of my meeting?” she asked.

“I think he thought that if I kept eating Danish, he might have to perform the Heimlich maneuver,” Stone replied. “Did anything happen after I left?”

“Not a hell of a lot. I don’t think I trust Lieutenant Doyle,” she said.

“You have good instincts,” Stone said. Line two began flashing on his phone. “I’ve got another call coming in,” he said, “so I’m going to have to go.”

“Let’s get together.”

“Maybe after this is over. Bye.” Stone hung up and waited for Joan’s voice.

“Brian Doyle on two,” she said.

“Hello?”

“It’s Brian.”

“Hi, there.”

“What was that you pulled with the commissioner?”

“He offered me a ride home, and it was raining like hell.”

“If you think you can pull something behind my back, Stone…”