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“Not my ass, sweetheart; I’ve got full deniability on that one. Looks like I’m okay for dinner, though. What time?”

“Pick you up at eight-thirty?”

“Why don’t I pick you up? The car goes with the job.”

“Do we really have to arrive at Elaine’s with a security detail? I’ve got my reputation to think about.”

“Tell you what, I’ll ditch the Suburban, if the FBI will let me, but the driver will still be an agent. The office has had some threats, and the AG doesn’t want me smeared all over a New York sidewalk. Like a lot of yokels, he thinks the city is a very dangerous place.”

“I hope your office doesn’t record your calls,” Stone said, “or you’re going to find yourself on the sidewalk job hunting.”

“Good point. How does one dress at Elaine’s?”

“Any way you like. I probably won’t wear a necktie, if that helps.”

“Okay, see you at eight-thirty; I’ll dress sloppy.”

SLOPPY TURNED OUT TO BE a sheepskin coat over a cashmere sweater and tan slacks that showed off her ass beautifully.

They settled at a table and ordered a drink, then Elaine came over.

“Elaine,” Stone said, “this is Tiff Baldwin, the new U.S. Attorney.”

“I heard,” Elaine said, shaking her hand. “You leave Martha Stewart alone, you hear?”

“Not my case! Before my time!”

“Fuckin’ Attorney General!” Elaine said. “Next, he’ll be after me!” She got up and went to greet some friends.

“You know,” Tiff said, “practically everybody I’ve met so far in this city, including everybody last night, has hit me with that?”

“It’s a good thing you’re not running for office,” Stone said.

“Thank God for small favors. You sleep well last night?”

“Well, I tossed and turned for a while, thinking of you, but I finally got a few hours. Woke up this morning to find the Texan in my kitchen again, this time with his date. Oh, guess what her name is.”

“Oh, God, don’t tell me.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“You see the cross I bear.”

“I do.”

“What do you eat here?”

“Try the osso buco, unless you’re dieting.”

“I never diet; I exercise instead. The Waldorf has a very nice gym. Do you work out?” she asked, poking him in the belly with a finger.

“I hate it, but I do. I’ve got some equipment in the basement.”

“It looks like a nice house; you had it long?”

“I inherited it from a great-aunt a few years ago and did most of the renovation myself.”

“Nice to have a great-aunt, isn’t it?”


Tags: Stuart Woods Stone Barrington Mystery