Doing Hard Time Read Free

it won’t come to that, Dad.”
    “You never know what can happen when you’re doing hard time in Hollywood,” Stone said.
    “What do you mean by that?” Peter asked, sounding genuinely curious.
    “After a few weeks at Centurion Studios, you won’t need to ask,” Stone said. “By the way, I know this will sound odd, but I’d like for you to call me if you meet anyone out there who is Russian.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “I know. I just saw someone at your graduation ceremony who looked familiar, and, on reflection, I somehow think he’s Russian.”
    “Dad, I know you’ve recently had some serious troubles with a Russian Mob, but why would any of them be at my graduation ceremony?”
    “I don’t know, but I want you to be alert to the possibility that, if you meet someone who is Russian, he may not be a friend. Please, just call me.”
    “All right, I will.”
    Dino wandered over, Viv in tow. “Now that we’ve outlasted Mary Ann, why don’t we get out of here and leave these kids to get drunk and have a good time?” Dino always worried when his ex-wife had too much access to his son. He said she had a way of eating people’s brains.
    “The car’s parked out front,” Stone said. “Let’s say our goodbyes.”
    There was a round of hugs, kisses, and standard advice, then they were in Stone’s car, headed from New Haven back to New York.
    It was very quiet for a while, then Dino finally spoke. “I don’t know why,” he said, “but I feel like crying.”
    “Oh, Dino,” Viv said, “get a grip.”
    “I feel like crying, too,” Stone said.
    But neither of them did.

Stone pulled into his garage, which had been enlarged into the basement space of the house next door. He had recently purchased and remodeled the house, and it now contained a duplex flat for guests and three other apartments, into which he had moved his secretary, Joan, his cook and housekeeper, Helene, and his newly acquired houseman or butler, Frederick Flicker, known as Fred. Stone had received a year of Fred’s service as a gift from his Parisian friend, Marcel duBois, and the man had quickly made himself indispensable.
    Fred greeted them and took their coats as they let themselves into Stone’s house from the garage. “Good evening, Mr. Barrington, Chief, and Mrs. Bacchetti. Dinner will be served in about an hour. May I fix you all a drink?”
    “You may, Fred,” Stone said, following him into the study. They sank into comfortable chairs and received their usuals from Fred’s silver tray. Fred inquired if they required anything else, was told no, then vanished.
    “I want one of those,” Dino said, raising his scotch in Fred’s general direction.
    “I don’t think there is another one of those,” Stone replied.
    “Dino,” his wife said, “we have two unoccupied maid’s rooms in our new apartment. Why don’t you find yourself a nice retired cop and install him there?”
    “I don’t think retired Irish or Italian cops fall into the employment category of butler,” Dino said. “I can just see one now, stumbling around the apartment, spilling drinks.”
    “All right, I’ll look into it then,” Viv said.
    Stone laughed. When Viv said she’d look into something, that meant it was practically done. “I predict you’ll have a houseman inside of a week,” Stone said.
    “Now, wait a minute, Viv,” Dino said. “I don’t know if I can afford a houseman on my salary.”
    “You forget, my darling, that we have two salaries now. We can’t afford a Rolls-Royce, but we can afford a houseman.”
    “Dino,” Stone said, “shut up and leave this to Viv. Haven’t you learned to do that yet?”
    “Awright, awright,” Dino said. “Don’t the two of you gang up on me.”
    “Dino,” Stone said, changing the subject, “did you see anybody at the graduation ceremony that you made as Russian?”
    Dino frowned. “Gimme a hint.”
    “Tallish, pale hair and skin, hefty, decent suit.”
    “Got him,” Dino