Schwartz handed him a latex glove. “Please.”

Jerry put on the glove and opened the safe. “There was some cash,” he said. “It’s gone.”

“You keep a lot of cash around?”

“Some of our customers pay in cash. After it builds up, we take it to the bank.”

“Any idea how much it built up by yesterday?”

“Maybe twenty-five, thirty thousand. Our bookkeeper can give you an accurate number, when she comes in.”

Mills called for a medical examiner, and they all sat down.

“How did you and Parisi get along?”

“I got along fine. Gino didn’t get along with anybody.”

“So he had enemies?”

“Almost everybody he knew, I imagine, to one extent or another.”

Mills pulled out a pad. “Give us the ones who hated him enough to want him dead.”

“I don’t have those names,” Jerry replied. “Gino dealt with certain clients, I did everything else. For what it’s worth, I don’t think a client did this. We’re in the beverage distribution business: wine, liquor, soft drinks. It’s not a contentious business anymore.”

“But Gino was contentious?”

“Gino was old-school—he liked to tell clients what they were ordering, not ask them. Call it a personality quirk.”

“There used to be a Carlo Parisi around.”

“Gino’s old man.”

“So your business is mobbed up?”

“No. We’re clean as a hound’s back teeth. Gino, I don’t know. He lived in his own world. We had just agreed that I would buy him out.”

“So what happens to his share of the business now?”

“I guess it will go to his son, Alfredo. I haven’t seen his will, if he’s got one. Had one.”

“How did Gino and Alfredo get along?”

“Gino gave orders, Al carried them out—as best he could. Al’s more like his mother.”

“Did he work in the business?”

“He was on the books as a salesman. I agreed with Gino to keep him on after I bought his share of the business. I guess I’ll buy it from Al now.”

“Cheaper?”

“Gino and I had a contract with a very explicit formula for determining the value of the company. All we have to do is the arithmetic, and we come up with a number. One of us buys out the other. Al will take the money and run, I expect.”

A medical examiner arrived, and the three men moved to a seating area to get out of his way, while the detectives continued to question Jerry in a desultory fashion.

Half an hour later, the ME ordered the body removed.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” Schwartz asked.

“He took two to the head, twelve, fifteen hours ago. No sign of a struggle. Somebody will need to identify the victim.”

“He was my brother-in-law, and his name was Gino Alfredo Parisi,” Jerry said. He gave him Gino’s address and his wife’s name. “I’ll notify her.”

The ME gave him a form to sign, then left.

The two detectives stood up. “We’ll be in touch,” Mills said.

Jerry shook their hands, and they left. Jerry picked up the phone and called his sister. “Maria,” he said, “I’ve got bad news. You’d better sit down.” After that, the conversation was brief.

After Jerry hung up he felt curiously weightless, as if he were floating a few feet above the floor. He would take the day off, for appearance’s sake; he’d get through the wake and the funeral and the weeping relatives, then he’d sit Al down and take the company away from him.

The future looked sunny.

Joan buzzed Stone. “Pepe Perado on one.”

“Pepe, how are you?”

“Very well, thank you, Stone.”

“How do you find San Antonio?”

“Much as expected—less inviting, since I spent time in New York. I look forward to coming back.”

“I think you may do that without fear, now.”

“Has something changed?”

“Gino Parisi was murdered last night, and two of his henchmen have disappeared. I believe the coast is clear.”

“Then I must have a conversation with my son,” Pepe said.

“When is he coming to New York?”

“He’s not, but I haven’t told him yet—thus the conversation. I’m coming myself, instead, and I’m going to start planning a brewery.”

“Wonderful!”

“I think the boy will be fine with my decision. He was not really looking forward to New York. He’s a Texan, not a cosmopolitan.”

“When are you coming back?”

“As soon as I can square things here. Shouldn’t take long.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you.” The two men said goodbye and hung up.

Joan came into his office. “Something has changed,” she said.

“Let me guess: the goons aren’t out there today.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because I hear that their employer met a bad end.”

“Ah. You had a call from Cessna while you were on the phone. A Ms. Pili Barker said your airplane is ready for delivery. She says you can start the acceptance inspection anytime.”

“Great news!”

“You want me to call Pat Frank and set up the inspection?”

“Please.” Pat Frank, a recent lady friend of Stone’s, had a business offering services to owner/pilots, and acceptance was one of them. “As soon as possible, please. And ask her to fly the airplane back to Teterboro when she’s done, and to put it in the Strategic Services hangar. Then call Pili Barker and ask her to send me the closing papers. I’ll sign them and send a check with Pat, so that she can close.”

Joan went to make the call.

Stone’s previous airplane had come to an explosive end, in England, and he had immediately ordered a larger replacement.

Ian Rattle knocked and came into Stone’s office, as had become his habit since his arrival. He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I had a call from Dame Felicity this morning,” he said.

“Is she well?”

“As always.”

“Has she found the mole in MI6 yet?”

“I don’t know, but you can ask her. She’s flying into New York this afternoon. She asked if you were free for dinner this evening.”

“I am, as it happens. Will you be joining us?”

“I was not invited.”

“Ah.” Stone buzzed Joan. “Please book me a table for two at eight, at Caravaggio.” He turned back to Ian. “How did she sound?”

“Very cool, as always.”

“Has cabin fever struck yet?”

“Not yet. In truth, I’m enjoying the time off, catching up on my reading, and enjoying the company of the lovely Caroline.”

Joan buzzed back and confirmed his restaurant table. “What time does her airplane get in?”

“Two o’clock, I believe,” Ian replied. “She said she’d call you.”

—

Stone picked up Dame Felicity Devonshire shortly before eight, and Fred drove them to the restaurant. They were settled at a table, were served drinks, and ordered.

“You look radiant, as usual,” Stone said.

“Thank you, Stone. Is your houseguest behaving himself?”

“He doesn’t really have a choice, does he?”

“I suppose not.”

“Have you made any progress in the search for his betrayer?”

“The search is ongoing. Are you tiring of Ian’s company?”

“Not really, though I prefer yours.”

“You’re sweet, but you and I are not going to enjoy ourselves on this visit, not with Ian in your house and me in the embassy.”

“I’m sad. What brings you to New York?”

“I’ve come to see if I can make a place for Ian Rattle on our United Nations staff.”

“Does that mean he’ll be moving out?”

“Yes, if I can manage it. I can’t just transfer him, I’ll need our ambassador’s approval, and he’ll have to discuss it with his staff. A lot of Foreign Office people are suspicious of MI6 officers.”