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the gentlemen present last night. When I told her what happened, she started making phone calls, and when I woke up, she hadn’t slept in the bed.”
    “Poor you.”
    “I don’t think Herbie’s fall killed Larry Fortescue,” Stone said.
    “Well, neither do I,” Dino replied, “but we’ll probably never know.”
    “Why not? The medical examiner will figure it out.”
    “The ME was poised over the corpse this morning, scalpel raised, when two guys showed up with a federal court order and took the body away in a van.”
    “Holy shit.”
    “My sentiments, more or less.”
    “This whole business is completely out of control,” Stone said.
    “Well, completely out of our control,” Dino agreed. “But somebody must know what’s going on. Certainly, nobody in the NYPD does.”
    Stone finished his chili. “I do know something you don’t,” Stone said.
    “What?”
    “I know where the photographs are.”
    “I want them now,” Dino said, pushing away from the table.
    “Just a minute,” Stone said. “You get one set of prints, I get the negatives and all the others.”
    “Deal,” Dino said, standing up.
    “And I need them processed by two-thirty, with nobody the wiser. You know somebody who can do that?”
    “You bet your ass,” Dino said. “Let’s get out of here.”
    Stone threw some money on the table, took a quick swig of his beer, grabbed his burger, and ran after Dino.

10
    Stone dove into the cab behind Dino, who sat staring at him.
    “You going to tell the driver where to go?” Dino asked.
    Stone gave him the address of the building with the skylight, then he took a huge bite of his burger.
    “The camera is still in the building?” Dino asked.
    “If we’re lucky,” Stone replied through the cheeseburger.
    “Nobody from the precinct has been there today,” Dino said. “I checked. The Feds were in on this. I hope to God they haven’t turned it over.”
    “Me too,” Stone replied.
    The cab screeched to a halt in front of the building. Dino got out.
    “Pay the guy,” he called over his shoulder.
    Stone paid the cabbie and followed along, still trying to eat his bacon cheeseburger.
    Dino was on the stoop, ringing doorbells. The super appeared, chewing his own lunch.
    “What d’ya want?” he said, in heavily accented English.
    Dino showed him his badge. “Is the sixth-floor apartment locked?” he asked.
    “You better believe,” the man said. “FBI guy gave me instructions.”
    “Give me the key,” Dino said.
    “I’m not fucking with FBI,” the man replied, swallowing food.
    “Give me the key now, or I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice and send you back to whatever godforsaken country you came from.”
    The man dug into a pocket and gave Dino a key. “Don’t tell nobody,” he said, then went back into his apartment.
    They took the elevator to the sixth floor. “There’s the door to the roof,” Dino said, as they got off. He opened the apartment door.
    It was dark inside, and Stone found a light switch that turned on a lamp in a corner. The massage table, two of its legs broken, lay on its side in the middle of the floor.
    “There’s why it’s dark,” Dino said, pointing upward. The broken skylight had been replaced with sheets of plywood. “Cozy little pad,” Dino said.
    “Looks like it was rented furnished,” Stone observed. “Nobody would buy those pictures, except a landlord.”
    “Okay, enough of the art lecture,” Dino said. “Where’s the film?”
    Stone went to the fireplace and opened the wood box next to it. It was half full of logs made of compressed sawdust. He lifted one and extracted a 35mm camera with a zoom lens attached. Stone rewound the film, popped the case, and put the film cartridge in his pocket. He removed the lens from the camera and put the lens in one inside pocket of his raincoat and the camera body in the other. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
    “I want to see the roof,” Dino said, striding toward the door.