by Stuart Woods
Mike took a card from his pocket, wrote something on the back of it, and handed it to Stone.
It was a number: 100K. “That seems low,” Stone said. “Are you sure?”
“It’s about what it would bring on the wholesale market or at auction.”
“Consider the deal done,” Stone said. He was thrilled but tried not to show it.
“Is it one of your armored models?” Arrington asked Mike.
“Yes.”
“Good. Stone needs it.”
Everybody laughed.
It was still early when they got home, and Stone called Ed Eagle at the Bel-Air.
“Hello?”
“Ed, it’s Stone. I’m glad to catch you in.”
“Hey, Stone, I’m glad you called. I remembered the name of the woman, the embezzler: her name was Dolly Parks. As I said before, that may not mean anything, since she would certainly have changed it when she left town.”
“Thanks, Ed. It was another name I called you about. You said your ex-wife, Barbara, was living in San Francisco and had remarried. Do you know her new name?”
“Well, she changed it from Barbara to Eleanor when she married Walter Keeler.”
“Walter Keeler, the avionics guy?”
“One and the same. He was the one killed in the auto accident.”
“And she has a new husband now?”
“Yes, a car salesman, an Englishman. When she married him, she bought the dealership and gave it to him.”
“What kind of dealership?”
“Rolls, Bentley, Aston Martin, that sort of thing.”
“And his name?”
“Grosvenor; he changed the dealership name to his. I don’t know his first name.”
“So E. K. Grosvenor could mean Eleanor Keeler Grosvenor?”
“Yes.”
“What does she look like?”
“Fairly tall, slim, always fashionably dressed; quite beautiful.”
“And she knew this Dolly Parks?”
“Yes. I had a pair of P.I. s following her, and they made that connection.”
“Ed, she’s in L.A.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Dino and I saw her with Carolyn Blaine out in Malibu yesterday, and she was being driven in a Rolls. Dino ran her tag, and E. K. Grosvenor of San Francisco came up.”
“I hope she’s not staying at the Bel-Air,” Eagle said. “It would be awkward to run into her, not to mention dangerous. Do you have any idea what she’s doing here?”
“Well, she had dinner with Terry Prince this evening; we were at the same restaurant.”
“You think she’s mixed up in the Centurion deal?”
“How much did you say she was worth?”
“When she got Walter Keeler’s will set aside, she came into his entire fortune. Word on the legal grapevine was that it came to one point six billion.”
“Billion?”
“Right, and, apart from some real estate and an airplane, it was all in liquid assets.”
“And since she was a surviving spouse, tax-free?”
“I assume so.”
Stone silently thought about that.
“Stone, are you still there?”
“Sorry, Ed, I was just thinking.”
“You think she’s in the Centurion deal?”
“It makes sense,” Stone said. “Terry Prince is seeming a lot more confident the past few days.”
“That’s interesting, because Jim Long, the producer, is Barbara’s closest friend, maybe her only one. In fact, she could be staying at his house.”
“And if she is, she would know about the attack on him in jail.”
“I suppose so.”
“Then why would she be doing business with the man who arranged the attack?”
“Good question. He probably doesn’t know how dangerous she is. Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want me to let the authorities in Santa Fe know that this Carolyn Blaine could be Dolly Parks?”
“No,” Stone said, “not yet, anyway. I have to think this thing through. Thanks for your help, Ed.” The two men said good night and hung up.
Stone tried to make sense of the association of Barbara Eleanor Keeler Grosvenor and Terry Prince, but he got nowhere.
46
Stone had hardly hung up the phone when Arrington padded into his room, shucked off her robe, revealing all, and slithered into bed next to him.
“I was waiting for you to come to me,” she said.
“I’m sorry, I had to make a phone call.”
“That’s all right,” she said, “I’m here now.” She felt under the covers for him.
“Right where you should be,” Stone said.
“Do you have to get up early in the morning?” she asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Good, because I’m going to keep you busy.”
And she did.
Stone woke up early in spite of himself. He tried to sneak out of bed to the bathroom, but she snagged his wrist.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, pressing herself against him. “Do you remember when we started every morning this way?”
“I certainly do,” he said, kissing her. That had been back when she was practically living with him in New York, before she had met Vance Calder and he had stolen her away to Bel-Air.
She rolled over and sat on top of him, taking him inside her. “There,” she said, “I’ve got you pinned.”
“You surely have,” he said, “and I’m enjoying the experience.” They both enjoyed it for a few minutes until they shared an orgasm.
Stone and Arrington were having breakfast on the terrace.
“We need to talk about Prince’s offer for your property here,” he said, handing her the contract and the twenty-five-million-dollar check.
“Why, it’s a personal check!” she said, looking at it. “I didn’t know anybody wrote personal checks in that amount.”
“He wanted to impress you,” Stone said.
“Well, I’m impressed. What’s your advice on this sale?”
“First, let me ask you a couple of questions.”
“Shoot.”
“Are you really ready to sell the property? Would it make you sad to see it go?”
“Yes, to your first question; no, to your second. My life isn’t here anymore. I would still enjoy visiting, but having a house in his new hotel would make me feel at home when I’m back here.”
“All right, let me make a suggestion.”
“Again, shoot.”
“Sign the contract, and let me decide tomorrow afternoon whether to tear it up or go through with the sale, depending on circumstances.”
“I trust you that much,” she said. “After all, if the sale doesn’t go through, I can still build my own hotel on the property.”
“Woodman amp; Weld could partner you with the right hotel group on that. You’d need professional management, anyway. You don’t actually want to run a hotel, do you?”
“Oh, God, no! I just want to be able to complain about the service and get instant results.”
“I think we can guarantee that,” Stone said, laughing.
“What if I end up in business with Prince?” she asked. “Am I going to like that?”
“You’ll never have to see or speak to him,” Stone said. “I’ll take care of that. Also, I’ve been on his hotel company’s website, looking at his properties, and they’re all top-notch. I’ve stayed at two or three of them, and they were all beautifully run.”
“Okay. You decide tomorrow.”
Stone handed her the document and a pen, and she signed it. “He’s put in an early closing date of this Friday, noon, and if he misses that, his twenty-five million are yours.”
Dino came out of the guesthouse and joined them. “Witness this, will you?” Stone said, passing him the document and the pen.
Dino signed the document with a flourish. “There you are.” “What does your day hold?” Stone asked him, slipping t
he document and the check into his briefcase.
“Rivera and I are working on something,” Dino said.
“What are you working on?”
“It’s a secret for the time being,” Dino said smugly. “You’ll know when you need to know.”
“You’re very mysterious, Dino,” Arrington said.
“Yes, I am,” Dino replied, smiling.
Stone’s cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Harvey Stein. I’m sorry, but I was down at Palm Springs for the weekend, and I didn’t get your message until this morning.”
“Thanks for calling back, Harvey. I’ve heard some rumblings about Jim Long’s trying to back out of our stock sale.”
“Well, it’s too late for him to do that, isn’t it? Mrs. Calder owns the stock now. What’s done is done.”
“Harvey, you know Barbara Eagle, don’t you?”
“I’ve met her a couple of times; she and Jim are close.”
“She’s back in town, and last night she had dinner with Terry Prince. You know anything about that?”
“Not a thing,” Stein replied.
“Did you speak with Jim over the weekend?”
“Yes, I called him yesterday from Palm Springs, just to see how he was doing, and he sounded much like his old self.”
“Did he mention Barbara?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“I’d heard that she might be staying with him while she’s in town.”
“That would be news to me,” Stein said.
“Are you coming to the shareholders’ meeting tomorrow?”
“Since I no longer represent a shareholder, no.”
“Well, if I don’t speak to you again, Harvey, thanks for all your help in getting this sale closed.”
“My pleasure,” Stein replied. They both hung up.
Stone called Rick Barron. “Rick, I just spoke to Harvey Stein, and he says there’s no problem, that Jim Long’s shares now belong to Arrington.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Rick said. “We’re perilously close to the fifty-one percent level, and his stock just puts us over the top.”
“Then we’re okay.” Stone heard noises in the background. “Are you still in the editing suite?”
“Yes, it will be tonight before we finish scoring and tomorrow morning before we have a print.”
“I can’t wait to see it, whatever it is,” Stone said.
“I think you’ll find it entertaining,” Rick said. “Gotta run.”
They hung up. “Everybody’s mysterious today,” he said to Arrington. “First Dino, now Rick Barron. He’s working on some sort of presentation for the meeting tomorrow.”
“I think I know what it is,” Arrington replied, “but I’m not going to tell you.”
47
It occurred to Stone that he had not heard from Jack Schmeltzer, and he wondered why. He called the producer’s office at Centurion, reached his secretary, and gave his name.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Barrington,” the woman said, “but Jack is in a meeting and will be for the entire day. I would expect the earliest he might be able to get back to you would be, perhaps, tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you,” Stone said, and hung up. What had been a feeling of mere uneasiness now grew into a solid knot of anxiety in his stomach. Was Schmeltzer going to renege? They were little more than twenty-four hours from the shareholders’ meeting, and Stone had by now expected to be fully confident of success. Unwillingly he allowed himself to think of the consequences if Rick Barron did not prevail at the meeting. Stone had been operating on a steady wave of mostly good news for the past week, especially his elevation to partner at Woodman amp; Weld, but now what had seemed within grasp-the rescue of a fine, old name in filmmaking-seemed to be slipping away. The fabric of their plan was unraveling.
Arrington had repaired to her rooms to do whatever women did in the morning, and Dino had gone off to do whatever it was he was doing with Rivera, and Stone was uncomfortably alone. His cell phone rang, and he picked it up, not recognizing the number displayed on the screen. “Hello?”
“Mr. Barrington?” a well-modulated female voice said.
“Yes?”
“My name is Eleanor Grosvenor.”
Stone was taken aback. “Yes?”
“Do you know who I am?” she asked.
“Yes, Mrs. Grosvenor,” he replied. This was the woman who had married his friend Ed Eagle, then attempted to steal his accumulated wealth and had, after that, repeatedly tried to murder him, a woman who had escaped from a Los Angeles courtroom, not realizing that she was about to be acquitted; who had escaped from a Mexican prison and somehow wangled a pardon for that and other crimes; who now was one of the richest women in the United States. Stone felt at once overmatched. “You are the former Barbara Eagle, are you not?”
“I am,” she replied, “and since you know that, I hope you will not hold against me whatever you may have heard.”
“Mrs. Grosvenor, so much of what I have heard about you strains credulity, and I hope I may be forgiven for not having had time to formulate an informed opinion.”
She laughed, a pleasing sound. “You must know that we dined in the same garden last evening, but I would not wish you to be overly concerned about my presence there.”
“I have not been able to decide whether I should be concerned or merely baffled.”
She laughed again. “You and I may soon be doing business,” she said, “and while I don’t want to go into that on this occasion, I do want you to know that what I have heard of you is favorable, and I don’t want you to be alarmed about my presence in town at this moment.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what any of that means,” Stone replied. Had she really gained a favorable impression of him by dining with Terry Prince? That seemed unlikely in the extreme.
“I’m sorry to be mysterious, but you will know more soon. Now I must go. Goodbye.” She hung up.
Stone sat with the phone still in his hand, wondering what had just happened. He called Ed Eagle.
“Hello, Stone.”
“Ed, I’ve just had the most extraordinary phone call from your ex-wife.”
“What?”
“She called me just a moment ago.”
“For God’s sake, why?”
“I have no idea; I hardly understood anything she said, except that she seemed to want to be reassuring.”
“Reassuring about what?”
“I’m not sure. I think she may be mixed up with Terry Prince in the Centurion deal.”
“Believe me,” Eagle said, “if she is, then you should not take that as reassuring.”
“But if she is in bed with Prince, why would she call and say that she has a good opinion of me?”
“Stone, I would normally say that anyone of whom Barbara has a good opinion is not worth knowing or is, at the very least, someone to steer clear of.”
“She must understand that if she’s in bed with Prince, I’m her opponent.”
“Being Barbara’s opponent is a dangerous position to hold,” Eagle said. “I warn you to proceed with extreme caution, should you find yourself dealing with her.”
“That seems like sound advice, coming from someone who should know.”
“You are correct,” Eagle said. “If she should communicate with you again, I urge you to call me for advice, and whatever you do, don’t make her angry. She is thin-skinned, and there are people whose conduct she has taken amiss who are now no longer with us. I count myself very nearly among that lot.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stone said.
“I have to run, Stone. Watch yourself.” Eagle hung up.
Stone sat there, more baffled than before.
The shadows lengthened, and Stone still sat there alone. Arrington was, apparently, having a long afternoon nap, and Dino had not reappeared. Then Manolo came striding onto the patio, followed by Rick Barron.
“Excuse me, Mr. Stone,” the butler said, “Mr.
Barron for you.”
Stone stood and shook Rick’s hand and took the opportunity to examine him closely. He looked very tense. “Please sit down, Rick,” he said, wondering if it were a good idea to offer a man of his age a drink at this time of day.
“May I have a large scotch?” Rick asked.
Problem solved, Stone nodded to Manolo, who went in search of whisky and returned shortly with a glass.
Rick took a deep draught of the scotch. “I just had a call from the attorney for Jennifer Harris’s estate,” he said. “The trustees ordered him to accept the offer for her stock without waiting for further bids. We’ve lost it.”
“Shit!” Stone said. “Manolo, please bring me a large Knob Creek on the rocks.”
Rick sighed. “By my count, we now have forty-eight percent of the votes.”
“That’s my count, too,” Stone said, taking a gulp of his bourbon.
48
Stone and Rick sat, each staring silently into the middle distance. The only sound was the occasional clink of ice cubes as they imbibed.
“Hello, Rick!” Arrington said cheerfully, as she swept onto the patio in a silk pajama suit. Then she stopped in her tracks. “Did somebody die?”
“Not yet,” Stone said. He explained what had occurred.
“Only forty-eight percent?” she asked, taking a seat. “Manolo, bring me a large rum and tonic! No, make it a dark and stormy.”
“What’s a dark and stormy?” Rick asked.
“It’s Gosling’s Black Seal-a black Bermudan rum-and ginger beer.”
“Oh,” Rick said. He turned to Manolo and swung a finger between himself and Stone. “Refills,” he said.
“What are we going to do?” Arrington asked.
“Good question,” Stone said, staring into his empty glass, which was immediately replaced by Manolo.
“That means you have no answer, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Pretty much,” Stone said, sipping his new bourbon.
“That’s about the size of it,” Rick said, sipping his own new drink.
“Well, it isn’t the end of the world,” Arrington pointed out.
“It’s the end of my world,” Rick said.
