“For a while now.”

“How was Eddie when he went?”

“Not too bad. You and I should do so well.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I went to the funeral, of course.”

“Of course. I was sorry not to be there, but I was, ah, indisposed at the time.”

Gino chuckled.

“How’s Onofrio doing?”

“He was doing great until a couple days ago. The cops raided his chop shop out in Red Hook.”

“I didn’t know he had a chop shop. Last I knew he was doing protection.”

“Times change. He was doing Porsches and Mercedeses only—a great business.”

“I heard he was looking for me, but I don’t have a number.”

Gino was suddenly wary. “Looking for you? Why?”

“He thinks I have Eddie’s money from the heist.”

“Do you?”

“About three hundred grand, from a safe-deposit box in a bank. That’s all.”

“Where’s the rest?”

“Eddie didn’t tell me about that. I figured he must have gotten a message to you or some other family.”

“I didn’t hear a fucking word from him.”

“Well, he wouldn’t haven’t written a letter, given his circumstances. When did you last see him?”

“Easter weekend, a year ago. It was only the third time I saw him while he was up there. We weren’t that close, you know. Eddie was always too elegant for the likes of me.”

“Onofrio came to see him now and then, he might have told him something.”

“Then why would the boy want to talk to you?”

“You tell me. You got a number, Gino?”

“He’s out of state. Tell you what: give me your number and I’ll give it to him when I speak to him.”

“When is that gonna be?”

“Soon. He’ll call.”

“Okay.” He gave Gino the number. “That’s what you call a throwaway cell number. It’s good for today only, not after that.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

“Thanks, Gino. How you holding up?”

“I’m old, that’s how.”

“Tell me about it. Bye-bye.”

Fratelli hung up and looked at his watch. Time to meet Hillary at the golf club. It would be their first round together.

• • •

Hillary hit first, about 220 yards, straight down the fairway. Fratelli was next; longer, but it sliced into the long rough.

“Nice distance,” Hillary said.

Fratelli laughed. “You’re very kind. My instructor and I are working on the slice, but I’m not there yet.”

Hillary, with 180 yards to the pin, hit a three wood to about six feet.

“I’d just like to point out that we’re not playing for money,” Fratelli said. She laughed. He found his ball, and it was resting on a bare patch in the long rough, 160 yards out. He took a club from his bag and hit the ball straight and true to just inside Hillary’s. Then he rejoined her, the club still in his hand.

“What’s that?” she asked, nodding at the club.

“An eleven wood,” Fratelli replied. “It’s my secret weapon.”

“How does your instructor say you’re doing?” she asked, as they got into the cart.

“He’s says I’m the best middle-aged beginner he’s ever coached.”

“You don’t have a handicap, yet?”

“He says I’m playing to about an eighteen.”

“Not bad for a short-timer,” she said. Then she sank her putt and he took two putts to hole his.

• • •

They took a break at the ninth hole, and Fratelli was having a diet soda when his phone vibrated. “Excuse me,” he said, then stepped away from the table. “Hello?”

“Hey, Johnny, it’s Onofrio.”

“Hiya, kiddo, what’s happening?”

“The old man said you wanted to talk.”

“I got a message you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I went to see your shyster lawyer.”

“Yeah? Your uncle Eddie recommended him. He gave me some basic advice, I paid his bill, and that was that.”

“Nah, it was more than that, Johnny. He’s in on it, isn’t he?”

“Eddie’s money? That what you’re all atremble about?”

“That’s it.”

“Well, Eddie left me a little something in a bank deposit box. I had just got it out when you or yours took a shot at me, remember?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that, Johnny, you know how it goes.”

“Your old man seems to think I got the whole bundle.”

“Sure, you did. Who else?”

“I thought he would have left the big part to his family, but you know what? Nobody came to see him when he was in the infirmary for his last four months.”

“Last time I tried, they threw me out. He took me off his visitors list.”

“Gee, I wonder why he did that.”

“I guess he liked you better.”

“He liked me three hundred grand’s worth—that’s what was in the box.”

“So, according to you, there’s seven mil plus out there somewhere.”

“Must be.”

“Where are you, Johnny?”

“I’m on my way to the Coast—Greyhound bus. You oughta try it sometime, kid—see America.”

“Bullshit.”

“America?”

“Nah, you headed for the Coast.”

“I hear it’s nice out there, and I’ve got my little stake.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about that. Your shyster tell you I’ve got his girlfriend?”

“He mentioned it.”

Fratelli heard a sound like a splash and what seemed like a woman laughing.

“Did the shyster tell you what’s gonna happen to her if you don’t cough up?”

“What do I care? She’s nothing to me. I wouldn’t give you a plugged nickel for her ass. That’s why I called, kid, to tell you that. And don’t try me on this number again, it won’t work.” He hung up. “I hope that does it,” he said aloud to himself, then he rejoined Hillary for the second nine holes.

• • •

When he got back to the Breakers, he tossed the cell phone and got another out of his underwear drawer.

36

Stone was back at his house before John Fratelli called.

“Welcome home.”

“Thanks.”

“I talked to Onofrio Buono.”

“Have you got a number for him?”

“No, I spoke to his father, Gino, who lives in Queens. He called his boy and gave him my number. By the way, I tossed that phone. Write this one down.” He recited the new number.

Stone wrote it down. “What was the result of that call?”

“I told him I got only three hundred grand from the safe-deposit box, and that I didn’t know where the rest was.”

“Was that true?”

Fratelli ignored the question. “He told me that if I don’t give him all the money, he’ll kill the girl. I told him pretty much what you told him.”

“To go fuck himself?”

“Pretty much. Listen, I heard something in the background of our call—at least I think I did.”

“What was that?”

“I thought I heard a splash and a woman laugh.”

“Does that mean anything to you?”

“Maybe. Eddie used to talk about a cabin he had on a lake, in Connecticut. He owned it until he died, and some of his family used it now and then.”

“Where in Connecticut?”

“A few miles north of Danbury, near a wide place in the road called New Fairfield. The lake was privately owned and it was really more of a pond—eight or ten cabins on it. I don’t remember the name, or even if it had a name.”

“I’ll look into it,” Stone said.

“I wonder about something.”

“What?”

“The woman laughing. Why would a woman who was being held hostage laugh?”

Stone thought about that. “Maybe he has a female accomplice.”

“Could be. I was you, I’d like to know more about that before I gave Bats any money.”

“So would I.”

“Do you have a lot of money, Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes.”

“Does the girl know you have a lot of money?”

Pause. “Probably.”

“Let me give you the best advice I can.”

“Please do.”

“Call the guy’s bluff.”

“You think he’s bluffing?”

“It’s fifty-fifty. I saw in a movie once, where the FBI told a father whose kid had been kidnapped: you can pay the money and get your kid back, or you can pay the money and not get your kid back. Or, you can not pay the money and not get your kid back, or you can not pay the money and get your kid back.”