by Stuart Woods
“Oh, Rick, I’m so very sorry,” she said. “That was unfeeling of me.”
“Have we forgotten to talk to anyone with shares?” Stone asked.
Rick shook his head. “I’ve spoken with every single shareholder personally,” he said, “some of them three or four times.”
“There’s still Jack Schmeltzer,” Stone said. “Oh, you didn’t hear that, Rick.”
“I didn’t,” Rick replied. “Have you heard anything from Jack?”
“I’ve left messages at his home and office, but he hasn’t returned my calls,” Stone said. “His secretary said he would be in meetings all day and wouldn’t be able to get back to me before tomorrow morning.”
“I’ve used that excuse myself,” Rick said, “more than a few times, when I didn’t want to talk to someone.”
“Why wouldn’t he want to talk to you?” Arrington asked Stone.
“I think Terry Prince has gotten to him, and he’s embarrassed,” Stone replied. “Maybe I should call Charlene Joiner and ask her to fuck him again.”
“What?” Arrington and Rick said simultaneously.
“It was Charlene who talked him around to voting with us,” Stone said, “after an afternoon in bed.”
“I didn’t know people did that sort of thing anymore,” Arrington said.
“At least as much as ever,” Stone replied, “maybe more.”
Stone’s cell rang, and he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Harvey Stein.” He didn’t sound happy.
“Yes, Harvey?”
“I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but there’s a problem with the transfer of Jim Long’s shares in Centurion.”
Stone felt sick. “What kind of a problem, Harvey?”
“It appears that the stock may not have been entirely Jim’s to sell.”
Stone put the phone on speaker and set it on the table. “Rick Barron and Arrington Calder are here. Tell us.”
“It appears that a friend of Jim’s holds a lien on his shares. A Mrs. Charles Grosvenor lent him some money a while back, and he signed a note using the shares as collateral. She neglected to ask for the stock certificate.”
“Who the hell is Mrs. Charles Grosvenor?” Rick asked.
“I’ll explain that later,” Stone said. “Harvey, do you know if Mrs. Grosvenor may have bought some shares from the estate of Jennifer Harris?”
“I’m not sure,” Stein replied.
“Have you spoken with Mrs. Grosvenor?”
“Briefly. I’m afraid I’ll have to refund Mrs. Calder’s money and ask for the share certificate back,” Stein said. “Mrs. Grosvenor wants it before tomorrow’s shareholders’ meeting.”
“Harvey,” Stone said, “have you read the actual note Jim signed?”
“Yes, and I consider it airtight. Jim is very apologetic; he thought he would have Mrs. Grosvenor’s support in selling the shares. I don’t know why he didn’t tell me about the note.”
“I’m sure you understand, Harvey, that I’m going to need to see the note before I can surrender the stock certificate.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t think this is your fault, Harvey,” Stone said.
“I have already taken the liberty of wiring the funds back to Woodman amp; Weld,” Stein said. “May I send someone to pick up the share certificate now? I’ll send along a copy of the note.”
“Yes,” Stone said. He punched the phone off.
“Who is Mrs. Charles Grosvenor?” Arrington asked again.
“From all reliable accounts,” Stone said, “a crazy person.”
“How crazy?”
“A homicidal maniac,” Stone said. He began to explain the woman’s history.
When he had finished Rick said, “I’ve lived a long life and met all sorts of people, but that is the wildest story I have ever heard.”
“Rick,” Arrington said, “is Glenna at home?”
“No, she’s in Santa Barbara; she’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
“Then you’re having dinner here with us,” she said.
“Thank you, Arrington, that’s very kind.”
Stone’s cell phone rang; the caller ID said Woodman amp; Weld.
“Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Bill Eggers.”
“Hey, Bill.”
“Our bank just called; we’ve received a wire transfer of the funds we sent Harvey Stein a few days ago. What’s going on?”
“Turns out Jim Long didn’t have the right to sell his shares; they were entailed.”
“Oh. How is that going to affect your gaining control of Centurion?”
“I don’t know; nobody knows anything at the moment. The shareholders’ meeting is tomorrow; any suggestions?”
“Yeah, use these funds to buy more shares.”
“None are for sale.”
“Then, unless you’ve got more than fifty percent without Long’s shares, to put it in legal terms, you’re fucked.”
“Well said, Bill.”
“Good luck to you.”
“Thanks so much.” Stone hung up. “Woodman amp; Weld got the funds paid for Long’s shares back, so if the note is in order, we’ll have to surrender the share certificate.”
“Swell,” Rick said.
49
Dino returned in time for dinner, and they all sat down. “How did your day go, Dino?” Stone asked.
“Nothing I can talk about,” Dino replied. He didn’t look any happier than anyone else.
Manolo came to the table to say that a messenger had arrived from Harvey Stein. Stone got up, retrieved Jim Long’s stock certificate from his briefcase, and went into the house to find Carolyn Blaine, clutching an envelope, waiting for him.
“Since when are you Harvey Stein’s messenger?” Stone asked her.
She handed him the envelope. “I can’t talk about that,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “The note is inside. Did you receive the funds Harvey wired back?”
“Yes,” Stone replied, opening the envelope and removing the photocopy of the note. He read it and found it in perfect order. “I suppose I could insist on seeing the original note before giving you the certificate,” he said.
“It wouldn’t matter,” Carolyn replied. “Jim’s attorney would just object to your voting his shares at the meeting, and you’d be back to square one.”
Stone knew that was true. He handed her the stock certificate and wondered if now would be a good time to tell “Carolyn Blaine” that he knew she was Dolly Parks-a large-scale thief and embezzler and possible murderer. He decided not, that a better time might come, though he couldn’t imagine when that would be, unless it was as the cuffs were being clapped on her beautiful wrists. “Good night,” he said, then turned and went back to the dinner table.
“I hope you found some flaw in the note Jim signed,” Rick said.
“I’m afraid not,” Stone replied. “I couldn’t have written it better myself.”
As the dinner dishes were being taken away Stone’s phone buzzed. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Ed Eagle; would you like to come over to the Bel-Air and have a drink with me?”
Stone looked at his watch; only a little past nine. “Sure, Ed, be there in five minutes.” He hung up. “Arrington, Rick, will you excuse me? A friend has asked me to come over to the Bel-Air for a drink, and I’d like to talk to him.”
“Of course,” Arrington said.
“I’ve got to be getting home anyway,” Rick replied. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Dino, you want to join us for a drink?”
“Sure, why not.”
Stone and Dino walked out to the car, accompanied by Rick. Stone opened the car door for him, relieved that a driver waited. “Good night, Rick.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at two, stage four,” Rick said, then was driven away.
Stone and Dino drove the mile to the Bel-Air, abandoned the car to the valet, and walked up to the bar. Ed Eagle sat at a table with Mike Freeman.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Stone said. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
“We met only once, a while back, on business,” Ed replied, “but I found him at the bar tonight, so we had dinner together.”
Stone and Dino ordered brandy. “Well, Ed, it seems certain now that your ex-wife has inserted herself into the Centurion deal.” He explained what had happened with the Jennifer Harris and Jim Long shares.
“How the hell did that happen?” Ed asked.
“I can only guess: you told me that she and the woman who now calls herself Carolyn Blaine had known each other in Santa Fe. I think Carolyn must have introduced her to Terry Prince. Maybe his Latin friends are getting cold feet, and he needed a new source of money.”
“I guess that makes a kind of weird sense,” Ed replied.
“Tell me,” Stone said, “in Barbara’s tangled felonious history, is there something she could still be nailed for?”
“Well, let’s see,” Ed said. “She got off for trying to kill me; she got pardoned in Mexico; and she didn’t get charged with trying to kill me the second time, because somebody got to the hit man before the cops could. Besides his murder, there are two others that I’m sure she arranged, but again, nobody is alive to testify against her, so she is, for all practical purposes, beyond the reach of the law. I wish my clients were as lucky.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so helpless,” Stone said. “I had it all together, and now it’s gone. Centurion is going to become a shell of a studio and will probably get snapped up by some conglomerate that knows nothing about making movies.”
“At least Arrington will come out unscathed in the deal,” Ed said.
“Yes, but the studio that produced all the films that made Vance Calder rich, then Arrington, will be gone.”
“Companies come and go,” Mike said. “It’s the American way. Used to be a successful business could endure for a century or more; now they last about as long as restaurants.”
“I’m glad Vance Calder isn’t alive to see this,” Stone said. “He did as much as anyone alive to ensure the success of Centurion. Did you know that he made more than seventy films there, not one of them for another studio?”
“I didn’t know that,” Ed said. “It’s a remarkable record.”
“He also made nearly every one of them for a minimal fee and a percentage of the gross. Every time one of his movies is shown anywhere, Vance-or rather, Arrington-gets a nice check.”
“I guess that in a few years, young Peter will be a very rich fellow,” Mike said.
“Yes, and I’m now his trustee, so it will be up to me to help him hold it together-what’s left of it.”
“Good luck dealing with all that,” Ed said. “It’s more than enough to destroy any young man with too much, too soon.”
“I’m going to try to write the trust documents-with Woodman amp; Weld’s help-in such a way that he’ll be eased into it gradually.”
“I hope, for your sake, Stone,” Ed said, “that nothing happens to Arrington for a long time. You could end up running what’s left of Centurion for Peter.”
“Perish the thought,” Stone said.
“I wish I had something to offer that would help you tomorrow,” Ed said.
“So do I,” Mike echoed.
“At this point,” Stone said, “Nobody can do anything. We’ll just have to let avarice take its course.”
Driving back to the Calder house, Dino said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so sad.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so sad,” Stone said.
50
Stone slept fitfully, when he slept at all. He had a recurring dream of Terry Prince on a bulldozer, razing the soundstages at Centurion. He finally got out of bed, shaved, showered, dressed, and walked out to the patio.
It was too early for Manolo to be about, but Dino had made a pot of coffee in the guesthouse kitchenette, and he held up a cup for Stone. “Feeling any better?” he asked as Stone took a seat.
“No,” Stone said, “not at all.”
“I wish there were something I could do to help,” Dino said, then he brightened. “Actually, there is something I can do.”
“What?”
“You’ve got Arrington’s signature on the agreement to sell this property to Prince, haven’t you? And his check for twenty-five million dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Here’s my advice: cash the check, get it cleared as quickly as possible, and give Prince the agreement as soon as you see him.”
“Why are you giving me that advice?” Stone asked.
Dino shrugged. “Suffice it to say that it’s my best advice, and I don’t think you would regret taking it.” Stone started to respond, but Dino held up a hand. “That’s all I have to say on the subject.”
“All right, I won’t press you. I’ll call Eggers when New York opens for business and get it done.”
Dino smiled happily. “This is going to be a good day,” he said. “I can feel it coming.”
“I wish I could share your optimism,” Stone said.
“What’s the song say? ‘Don’t worry, be happy!’ ”
“That’s mindless optimism,” Stone said.
“No, it’s not. I told you, I have a feeling.”
“You get these feelings all the time, do you?”
“No, just once in a while, but they’re always right.”
“How about the Centurion business? You have a feeling about that?”
“Nope, just about the day in general. I think we should have a celebratory dinner.”
“Even if you don’t know what we’ll be celebrating?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t know anything,” Dino said. “I just don’t know how the Centurion thing is going to play out.”
“You’re making me crazy,” Stone said. “I’ve never seen you like this. Did you take some weird kind of sleeping pill that hasn’t worn off yet?”
“Nope, I never need sleeping pills. I sleep like a Labrador retriever.”
“Why do you say that? You don’t have a Labrador retriever.”
“No, but I met one, once, and I was impressed with the way he slept.”
Stone’s cell buzzed, and he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Good morning, it’s Eggers. This is your big day, isn’t it?”
“That’s what Dino says, but I’m not too sure. Things haven’t gone well here the past couple of days.”
“So why is Dino so up?”
“Who knows? He says he has a feeling.”
“He’s Italian; I wouldn’t discount it.”
“Why did you call, Bill?”
“Just to wish you luck at your stockholders’ meeting today.”
“Well, I was going to call you at nine, New York time, so I’m glad you called.”
“What can I do for you, Stone?”
“I have a check from Terry Prince made out to Arrington in the amount of twenty-five million dollars. How can I cash it before he changes his mind?”
“Jesus, what’s it for?”
“It’s a non-refundable deposit on the sale of her Bel-Air property to him.”
“What bank is it drawn on?”
Stone got out the check and looked at it. “Wells Fargo,” he said.
“What branch?”
“It’s on Wilshire, near Prince’s offices.”
“Here’s what you do: you be at the branch when it opens and ask for the manager. You show him the sales contract-has Prince signed it?”
“Yes, it came already signed.”
“Has Arrington signed it?”
“Yes.”
“Get her to endorse the check, too. Then you tell the manager you want the funds wired to our trust account immediately. Got a pen?”
Stone got out his pen and jotter pad. “Ready.”
Eggers dictated the account number. “He’ll feel better about wiring it to our account, instead of a private account. Tell him to make the wire
to my attention.”
“What, so you won’t get it mixed up with all the other wires for twenty-five million dollars?”
“Yeah. I’ll have somebody call you when the funds are in our account, and we’ll transfer the money to Arrington’s account at Chase this morning.”
“Okay, I’ll follow your instructions.”
“Good. By the way, I sent you a little gift package; you’ll get it by FedEx, early delivery.”
“Is it a fruit basket, Bill?”
“Not exactly, but you could look at it that way.”
“Chocolates?”
“Again, not exactly.”
“Well, I just can’t wait! I’m on pins and needles!”
“Oh, shut up. I have to go to work, now; they get up early at Boeing.” He hung up.
Stone turned to Dino. “I have to be at Prince’s bank, on Wilshire, when it opens.”
“You do that,” Dino said.
Arrington came out to the patio in pajamas and a dressing gown, glowing, in spite of no makeup. “Good morning, all,” she said. “I think this is going to be a wonderful day!”
“Talk to Dino,” Stone said, handing her Prince’s check. “In the meantime I need you to endorse this check.”
“Of course,” she said, signing it with a flourish.
Manolo appeared to take their breakfast order, and he was holding a FedEx box. “This just came for you, Mr. Stone,” he said, handing it to him.
Stone looked at the waybill. “It’s a gift from Bill Eggers,” he said. He ripped open the box and shook another, more elegant box from it. He opened the box and removed some tissue paper. Underneath was a stack of Woodman amp; Weld stationery and envelopes and a smaller box. Stone shook that open, and it was filled with cards. He held one up and read it: it proclaimed him a partner of Woodman amp; Weld. He handed one each to Arrington and Dino. “My card,” he said, then he looked at the letterhead and found his name among those of the partners listed there. “Congratulations!” Arrington and Dino said simultaneously. Stone glowed.
51
Stone left the house at eight-thirty and drove down to Wilshire. He was right, the Wells Fargo branch was near Prince’s building: it was in his building. He parked in the underground garage and took the escalator to the ground floor. He was ten minutes early, so he strolled over to the building’s directory and looked at the list of occupants. There were two: Wells Fargo Bank and Prince Properties. Management occupied the two top floors, and all the others seemed to be Prince subsidiaries, since they all had his name in their titles.
