A chance encounter with a small-time crook sends Stone Barrington straight into the heart of New York’s mafia underworld in this action-packed thriller in the #1 New York Times bestselling series. It started out as just another late night at Elaine’s, but it ended with Stone on the horns of a dilemma. Forced to represent a sleazy but clueless con man, Stone finds that what could have been a throwaway case instead leads right to Carmine Datilla, a powerful mob boss with a notoriously bad temper and long reach. With the help of his ex-partner, Dino, Stone investigates “Datilla the Hun,” and the rest of the mob family, encountering intrigue and danger at every turn. Will Stone finally take a stand, or will he end up at the bottom of Sheepshead Bay? Praise for Fresh Disasters “There are plenty of laughs as the pages speed by. Series regulars and newcomers alike will be perfectly satisfied.”— Publishers Weekly “Stone is as slick as ever.”— Booklist More Praise for Stuart Woods “Stuart Woods is a no-nonsense, slam-bang storyteller.”— Chicago Tribune “A world-class mystery writer...I try to put Woods’s books down and I can’t.”— Houston Chronicle  “Mr. Woods, like his characters, has an appealing way of making things nice and clear.”— The New York Times “Woods certainly knows how to keep the pages turning.”— Booklist “Since 1981, readers have not been able to get their fill of Stuart Woods’  New York Times  bestselling novels of suspense.”— Orlando Sentinel “Woods’s Stone Barrington is a guilty pleasure...he’s also an addiction that’s harder to kick than heroin.”— Contra Costa Times  (California) Stuart Woods was the author of more than ninety novels, including the #1 New York Times bestselling Stone Barrington series. A native of Georgia and an avid sailor and pilot, he began his writing career in the advertising industry. Chiefs , his debut in 1981, won the Edgar Award. Woods passed away in 2022. 1 Elaine’s, late. Stone Barrington sat at his usual table with Dino Bacchetti and Bill Eggers. Dino was his old partner from when he had been on the NYPD, and Eggers was the managing partner of Woodman and Weld, the law firm for which Stone was of counsel, which is to say, he did the work that the firm did not wish to be seen to do, sometimes for clients the firm did not wish to be seen to represent. He did this work from a distance, at his home office in Turtle Bay. Stone took his first sip of his second bourbon, while Dino and Eggers did likewise for their second Scotch. “I’m hungry,” Stone said. “How long since we ordered dinner?” Eggers glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes.” “I should have my green bean salad, hold the peppers, by now,” Stone said. “Look around,” Dino said. “It’s a busy night.” It was a busy night, Stone reflected, and then it got even busier. The front door opened, and in walked Herbert Q. Fisher with two hookers. Stone knew they were hookers, because renting was the only means by which Herbie Fisher could acquire company so attractive, not that they were all that attractive. “Oh, shit,” Stone said. “Shit what?” Dino asked. “It’s Herbie Fisher.” Stone looked away from the door, so as not to catch Herbie’s eye. It didn’t work. Herbie stopped at Stone’s table, picked up his hand and pumped it. “Hey, Stone, baby!” he yelled, forming his words carefully enough that he appeared drunk. “How’s it hanging?” “Hello, Herbie,” Stone said. “How are you?” He immediately regretted the question. “Well, I’m a lot better than okay,” Herbie said. “I passed the bar today.” Stone squinted at him. “You’re going to be a bartender?” Visions came to mind of customers clutching their throats and gagging. “No, no—the bar. You and I are now brothers in the law.” “You’re drunk, Herbie. Go away.” Herbie began searching for something in his inside coat pocket. “No, I’m not kidding. I’ve got it right here.” He came up with a page from a newspaper and unfolded it to reveal a list of many names in small print. A circle was drawn around one of them. “See? Right here!” Herbie pointed helpfully. Stone looked at the name. “This is a list of night students who got their GEDs, right?” “No! Look up at the top of the page.” Stone followed Herbie’s finger. “Candidates Successfully Completing the Bar Examination of the State of New York,” read the title. “It’s a joke newspaper,” Stone said. “No, it’s not!” Herbie said indignantly. “You’ve never been to law school,” Stone pointed out. “I most certainly have,” Herbie said, “for the past nineteen months, at the Oliver Wendell Holmes Internet College of Law. I graduated summa cum laude.” “Herbie, go away,” Stone said. “Oh, let me introduce you to my ladies,” Herbie said, sweeping an arm toward the two hookers. “This is Suzette and Sammie. Ladies, this is the distinguished attorney-at-law Mr. Stone Barrington. He and I have worked together in the past and, hopefully, will be working together in the future.” “Herbie,” Stone said, “you’re hallucinating. The notion that