Lucid Intervals

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Elaine’s, late.

Stone Barrington and Dino Bacchetti were sitting at their usual table, eating penne with shrimp and vodka sauce, when a young man named Herbert Fisher walked in with a tall young woman.

Stone ignored him. Herbie Fisher was the nephew of Bob Cantor, a retired cop with whom Stone had worked many times. Bob Cantor was Herbie’s only connection with reality. Herbie Fisher, in Stone’s experience, was a walking catastrophe.

Herbie seated his girl at a table to the rear, then walked back and took a chair at Stone’s table. “Hi, Stone,” he said. “Hi, Dino.”

“Dino,” Stone said, “you are a police officer, are you not?”

“I am,” said Dino, spearing a shrimp.

“I wish to make a complaint.”

“Go right ahead,” Dino said.

“What’s going on, Stone?” Herbie asked.

Stone ignored him. “There is an intruder at my table; I wish to have him removed.”

“Remove him yourself,” Dino said. “I’m eating penne with shrimp and vodka sauce.”

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