“For making terroristic threats,” Dino said. “He threatened to put Stone in a wheelchair.”

“I know a woman who went out with him a couple of times,” Eliza said.

“With what result?”

“She broke it off, and he stalked her for weeks. Her name is Genevieve James; she works at the hospital.”

“How long ago was this?” Stone asked.

“Late last year, between Thanksgiving and Christmas. She had to leave town for the holidays in order to have any peace.”

“I’d like to talk to her,” Dino said. “Do you think she’d testify to all this in court?”

“I doubt it,” Eliza said. “She was pretty shaken up by the whole business. But I’ll ask her.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Stone said. “I’m representing another woman who’s had major problems with Daltry. She fears for her life, and I had to get her out of town.”

“Well, I hope you can put the creep away,” Eliza said, returning to her drink.

Stone returned to his second bourbon.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“A whole lot better,” Stone said, raising his glass. “Ah, the wonders of medical science.”

“So you’re a lawyer?” she asked.

“That’s debatable,” Dino said. “‘Disreputable lawyer’ would be more like it.”

“That’s a dirty Communist lie,” Stone said. “I mean, you’ve got to have a disreputable client or two to make a living. After all, they’re the ones who need lawyers.”

“Are you telling me you can’t make a living representing reputable people?” Eliza asked.

“Well, reputable people occasionally sue or get sued, or get divorced, but that’s not likely to lead to a protracted trial, the kind that runs up billable hours.”

“When was the last time you had a protracted trial?” Dino asked.

“That’s beside the point,” Stone replied. “I’m simply replying to your baseless charge of disrepute by using an illustration.”

“It says Woodman and Weld on your card,” Eliza pointed out. “That’s a very reputable firm.”

“Yeah,” Dino said, “and they stay that way by handing off the disreputable clients to Stone.”

“It’s a mutually convenient solution to both our problems,” Stone said. “For instance, at the insistence of Woodman and Weld, I’m currently suing a big-time mafioso on behalf of a client they would never represent.”

“Which big-time mafioso?” she asked.

“One Carmine Dattila.”

“Dattila the Hun?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“You clearly need to be reading a better newspaper,” Stone said. “Try the Times.”

“Oh, I read the Times,” she said, “but not for fun. I like the Post and the News for that.”

“You sound like my secretary,” Stone said.

Later, when they had finished dinner, they left the restaurant.

“Can I offer you a nightcap at my house?” Stone said.

“No, you can put me in a cab and send me home.”

“Where do you live?”

“Not far, but you’re in no condition to walk.”

“I didn’t have all that much to drink.”

She pointed at the cane.

“Oh, that. The pain has temporarily subsided.”

“Not enough for you to walk me home. I’ll accept the drink offer when I’m not looking at an early shift on the morrow.”

Stone stepped into the street and flagged down a cab, then opened the door for her.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for dinner. I liked Elaine’s.”

“Another time soon?”

“I’m around this weekend.”

“Alas, I’m out of town. Early next week?”

“Call me.” She got into the cab, and it drove away.

Stone sighed and started looking for his own cab.

Stone opened the door and got into the cab, and as he did, someone pushed him across the seat and got in behind him. Stone drew back his right arm, ready to smash an elbow into his assailant’s face.

“Hey, Stone, don’t hit me!” a plaintive voice yelled.

Stone looked over his elbow. “Herbie, where the hell have you been?”

“Don’t yell at me, Stone.”

The driver piped up. “Where to?”

Stone gave him his address. “I’m not yelling,” he said to Herbie. “Now why did you bail out of your deposition?”

“It was those two guys, Stone; they were after me.”

“Did they drag you out of the building?”

“Well, no, not exactly.”

“You left of your own accord, then?”

“Kind of. But they followed me out, and I had to outrun them again.”

“Herbie, if you hadn’t left, they wouldn’t have followed you out.”

“Well, maybe. I was just uncomfortable with them sitting out there, so I hit the elevator.”

“And where have you been since then?”

“Around.”

“And why didn’t you call me?”

“I was embarrassed.”

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Stone said.

“Huh?”

“What do you want, Herbie?”

“I need some money.”

“What for?”

“I’ve gotta get a room somewhere, and I’m broke. I don’t even have subway money. I was waiting for you outside Elaine’s, but when I saw the cops come, I ran.”

“Why? Are the cops looking for you?”

“No. It was just instinct, I guess.”

“Are you dropping the lawsuit?” Stone prayed for a yes.

“Oh, no, I still want to sue the bastard. Can we reschedule the deposition?”

“That won’t be necessary. Luckily for you, Dattila’s lawyer decided not to depose you. I guess his client had already told him what to expect. We’ll get a trial date soon.”

“Great! I’m looking forward to the trial!”

“I can’t imagine why,” Stone replied.

“Because I want to see Dattila squirm.”

“Dattila doesn’t squirm,” Stone said, “and certainly not from anything you could say to him.”

“Just wait till I get on the stand.”

“It’s your word against his, Herbie. That is, unless there’s a videotape of Dattila telling his goons to kill you slow.”

Herbie reached into his inside coat pocket, pulled out a small dictating machine and pressed a button. There was what sounded like a chair scraping across the floor, then a male voice. “What do we do with him, Mr. Dattila?”

“Kill him slow,” Dattila replied.

Stone snatched the dictator from Herbie’s hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this?”

“I was going to spring it in my deposition and make Dattila shit in his pants.”

“I don’t think that would have been Dattila’s response,” Stone said, “but his lawyer might have done that. Herbie, I almost hate to say this, but the recording might actually give us a chance of winning this thing.”

Herbie beamed. “I thought so.”

“And if you’d given it to me immediately, instead of playing games, we might have already settled your suit.”

“I don’t want it settled, I want to win it.”

“Is that what they taught you at your Internet law school, Herbie? Never settle? Settling is a good thing, Herbie; you get money, maybe an apology, and Dattila doesn’t put a contract out on you, if you’re lucky. Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind that, even if you do win the suit and get a judgment, and humiliate Dattila in open court, that you’ll have a target on your back for the rest of your days? Or the rest of Dattila’s days, whichever comes first.”

Herbie looked sober for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he said.

“It’s time for some thinking, Herbie. Listen, can you get back into your apartment without anyone seeing you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, then, go home, let yourself in, don’t turn on any lights or the TV, and don’t make any noise, and don’t answer the phone unless it rings once, then stops, then rings again a minute later. If it does that, it will be me.”

Herbie muttered these instructions to himself. “But what am I gonna eat?”

Stone pressed some bills into his hand. “Whatever you do, don’t order in. Stop at a deli and pick up enough groceries for a few days.”

“Okay.”

“And, Herbie, draw all the curtains. Don’t even let the light in the refrigerator be seen.”