Sex, Lies & Serious Money

by Stuart Woods

  Laurence thanked him and got into the car.

  “Ralph Lauren shop, sir?” Fred asked.

  “Please.”

  —

  THEY REACHED THE store quickly. Fred gave him a card. “Please call me when you’re done. I’ll be as nearby as I can.”

  “Thank you, Fred.” Laurence went into the store, stopped, and looked around.

  A beautiful, dark-haired young woman dressed in a Ralph Lauren suit approached. “Mr. Hayward?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Theresa Crane, your personal shopper. What may I show you today?”

  “I need a wardrobe,” he said. “Not a piece of furniture but clothes. Let’s begin with the basics.”

  “Boxers or briefs?” she said.

  He laughed. “I guess that’s basic. Two dozen pairs of white boxers, size 34.”

  She made a note. “Shall we start with suits and work our way down?” She led the way to an elevator, and they went upstairs. “Let’s see,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “I’d say a 42 long?”

  “Let’s try one on,” he said. She led him to a bank of suits and he chose a dark gray pinstripe, then she led him to a dressing room.

  Moments later, a tailor was examining him. He bent and marked the trouser bottoms, then stood up. “Mr. Hayward, you are that rare gentleman who is perfectly shaped for a standard size. My only question is, cuffs or plain bottoms?”

  “Cuffs, please, and may I wear it out of the store?”

  “Ready in half an hour,” the tailor said.

  “As long as we stick with the Purple Label suits, all you have to do is choose,” Theresa said. “The tailor is now superfluous.”

  Laurence began choosing half a dozen suits and a tuxedo. Next, he chose some tweed jackets, a blue blazer, and two overcoats and a trench coat, then they went downstairs, where he chose a dozen shirts and as many neckties, then on to the shoe department.

  “I love alligator,” Laurence said. He chose six pairs and some bedroom slippers. The price tags took his breath away, but he steeled himself.

  “Jewelry?” Theresa asked.

  “I could use a watch,” he replied. “Or two.” At the jewelry counter he chose an antique Cartier wristwatch and an old Rolex.

  “Will you need luggage?” she asked.

  “I certainly will.”

  “Alligator?”

  “Oh, yes.” He chose three matched cases and a briefcase that were the same chocolate gator as his new checkbook. He avoided looking at the price tags. He bought socks and cuff links and belts and sweaters and two dressing gowns, one cotton, one silk.

  In the sportswear department he bought sneakers, boat shoes, running shorts, and a dozen polo shirts. “I can’t think of anything else,” he said.

  “Then let’s go and take delivery of your new suit,” Theresa said. She delivered him to the tailor and he put on a new shirt, tie, shoes, and belt, then slipped on his Cartier watch, while Theresa disappeared with his new American Express card.

  She returned as he was examining himself in the mirror.

  “Perfection,” she said, handing him the bill to sign. He caught sight of the total as he was signing, and it was a bit over $160,000. “If you’ll come with me, American Express would like to speak with you.”

  She took him to a phone. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Hayward,” a woman said, “may I ask you some questions?”

  “Of course.”

  She grilled him for a couple of minutes. “I’m sorry to detain you, but it is your first purchase on your new card, and we had to be sure it was you.”

  “Of course.” He hung up.

  “And now,” Theresa said, “you have just run up the largest sale I have ever made. May I take you to lunch in our new restaurant downstairs?”

  “Of course you may.”

  Shortly, they were seated at a table in the most beautiful room he had ever dined in, outside of Oxford.

  When they had ordered, she looked at him questioningly. “Tell me, were all your clothes lost at sea in a shipwreck?”

  He laughed. “No, I’ve just neglected to buy any clothes for a while, and what I have are mostly in England, where I’ve been living for the past twenty-two years.”

  “And what do you do, Mr. Hayward?”

  “You must call me Laurence, please.”

  “And what do you do, Laurence?”

  “I teach English and art history at a public school.”

  “Which in England is a private school, is it not?”

  “It is.”

  “Which one?”

  “Eton College.”

  “Even I have heard of Eton,” she said. “Did you also attend Eton as a boy?”

  “I did.”

  “It didn’t seem to hurt your accent much.”

  “I’m American born. I assume my American disguise when I’m here.”

  “Do you live in New York?”

  “Palm Beach, but I’m looking at an apartment in about an hour.”

  “Where?

  “Park Avenue.”

  “Very good. And will you furnish it in an hour?”

  “I expect it will take a little longer, though I understand it’s already very nicely furnished. Now, you know a lot about me, and I have to catch up. Your sixty-second bio, please.”

  “All right, born in Delano, a small town in Georgia, twenty-eight years ago, attended local schools, then I won a scholarship to Mount Holyoke College, in Massachusetts.”

  “One of the Seven Sisters.”

  “Correct.”

  “After graduation, I came to New York to make my fortune in finance, but no one would hire me, so I got a job selling neckties at Ralph Lauren, the one at Madison and Seventy-second. Seven years later, I’m still selling neckties, along with everything else in the store. There.”

  “Seven years? I admire your loyalty.”

  “They pay me,” she said.

  “I hope you’re on commission.”

  “I’m not allowed to tell you, but if I’m not, I’ll demand a raise after today.”

  They finished their lunch, and she introduced him to the headwaiter and told him to always take care of Mr. Hayward.

  Laurence called Fred, and he appeared almost immediately.

  “What a nice car,” Theresa said.

  “It is, but it’s not mine, belongs to my attorney.”

  “Ah, Stone Barrington. You must be a very good client.”

  “We’ll see. I enjoyed our lunch. Will you have dinner with me?”

  “I’m not allowed to,” she said. “Against company policy.”

  “Do you never do what you’re not allowed to do?”

  She smiled. “Sometimes.”

  5

  STONE STOOD on the sidewalk in front of the Fairleigh and watched his Bentley glide to a halt. He opened the door and held it for Laurence. “I see you’ve shopped,” he said. “That’s a beautiful suit.”

  “Thank you for the recommendation,” Laurence said.

  “Right this way.” Stone led him through the newly renovated, paneled lobby.

  “Very handsome,” Laurence said.

  “When the hotel was built, in the 1920s, they were said to have felled a whole forest of mahogany trees in Honduras.”

  “Awful.”

  “Not so much in the 1920s. They’ve grown back by now.”

  They entered the elevator, Stone pressed the 15 button and the car rose. “I understand the agent, whose name is Cassandra Gotham, is British. She might like to hear a familiar accent.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Another thing—the apartments in the hotel are pretty much sold out, because there are three or four per floor. The penthouse, being larger and occupying an entire floor, has been ha
rder to sell. Before you make an offer, let’s talk.”

  “Certainly.”

  The car opened into a large, beautifully furnished foyer, with double doors to the right. A willowy blonde of indeterminate age, wearing a Chanel suit, strode from the apartment to greet them with a broad smile. “Mr. Barrington, Mr. Hayward, which is which?”

  Stone handed her a Woodman & Weld card. “I’m Stone Barrington, this is Laurence Hayward.”

  “How do you do, Ms. Gotham,” Laurence said.

  “So good to meet you both. Will you come through? I’ll try not to talk too much, let the place speak for itself. Just ask, if you have questions.”

  She led the way into a large living room, with unobstructed light pouring through tall windows on three sides. The room was centered on a carved limestone fireplace, and the ceilings were very high.

  “Where did the furniture come from?” Laurence asked.

  “All the upholstered pieces and the fabrics are from Ralph Lauren. The wood furniture is from the manufacturer, Baker. The piano, a seven-foot grand, is from Steinway. The pictures are from a number of galleries. All the things are purchasable, not included in the asking price.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  Laurence sat down at the piano and played some chords and scales, then he inspected the interior of the instrument. “Good,” he said.

  They moved into a dining room, where a table was set for twelve. “The chairs are from Lauren, the table and sideboard from Baker, the china is Wedgwood, from about 1935, the crystal and the chandelier are Baccarat, and the sterling pieces are from a shop down the street that deals in old silver. There is another, more intimate dining room near the kitchen.” She led the way through a service door into a large kitchen. “Most of it is original to the apartment,” she said, “except, of course, the appliances, which are from Viking. The small dining room is here, with views to the south, and seats six or eight. Again, chairs, Lauren, table, Baker.” They went down a hallway. “There is a servant’s apartment here, and a second bedroom, here, and an office nearer the living room. The furniture for those is from Bloomingdale’s, as are the rugs throughout the apartment, which are among the finest the store has to offer.”

  “Thank you.”

  “One other thing—there is a small, two-bedroom, two-bath apartment on the floor below, which is offered separately for three million, and furnished with refinished hotel furniture. It would be ideal for older children or staff. Would you like to see it?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Laurence said.

  She pressed a panel near the elevator, which opened, revealing a staircase, and led them down. Laurence and Stone had a look around.

  “Thank you. May we see the bedrooms upstairs now, please?”

  They went back to the living room and up a floor in an elevator tucked behind a broad stairway. “Master suite is here,” she said, opening double doors. “There are his and her bathrooms and dressing rooms. The woman’s is twice the size of the man’s.” She showed them three guest rooms down the hallway, each with a large bathroom, then led them back down the stairs. “And now, the pièce de résistance, the library.”

  It was, as was the rest of the apartment, paneled in mahogany, and imposing without being too large. The fireplace was of carved mahogany. “The upholstered furniture is Lauren, the other things, Baker. The books are from the fine-books collection at the Strand, the enormous bookstore downtown. The room is wired for computer use, with a workstation in the corner, there. The entire apartment has high-speed Wi-Fi, and there is a built-in sound system by Sonos that can be operated from an iPhone, plus a four-line office-style telephone system, all of which is housed behind a panel.” She showed them the tech closet, went to the mantelpiece and pulled an embroidered cord next to it. The paneling beside the fireplace slid open, and a bar slid nearly silently into the room, with four stools, stocked with bottles and mixers. She led the way to French doors at the west end of the room, which opened onto a large terrace with a swimming pool and views west to Central Park. “The pool is a very rare thing on the East Side,” she said, “but the original owner of the hotel built this apartment for himself, and he wanted a pool. It has been inspected and is in excellent condition and well supported by steel beams.

  “The monthly maintenance fee on the apartment is twenty-five thousand per month, and that includes daily maid and linen service, room service, concierge service, and parking. The apartment comes with two parking spaces in the underground garage. Have you any other questions?”

  “I don’t think so,” Laurence said. “May we have a moment to talk?”

  “Of course.” She handed him a leather-bound book. “This is a list of the furnishings with the prices of each piece and phone numbers of the furnishers.”

  Stone and Laurence sat down in facing, cushioned armchairs. “What do you think?” Stone asked.

  “It’s perfect, once I sort through the furnishings.”

  “I suggest you offer eighteen million, with a closing tomorrow.”

  “Do you think they’ll take that?”

  “The apartments went on sale nine months ago, and as I said, are sold out. Your position is good. Will you allow me to make the offer? You can be the good cop.”

  Laurence smiled. “Certainly. I think I’d like the apartment downstairs, too,” he said.

  “We’ll offer two million for that?”

  “Good.”

  “And they’re asking twenty-two million for the penthouse. Shall we offer twenty million for the two?”

  Stone rang the agent’s cell phone, and she reappeared. “Please join us,” Stone said, standing and offering her a chair.

  “We will be brief, Ms. Gotham. Mr. Hayward would like to offer twenty million for the two apartments, all cash, to close tomorrow before noon. He is not inclined to offer more. He will deal directly with the furnishers.”

  She appeared speechless for a moment, then recovered. “Please give me a moment.” She walked to the edge of the terrace and made a phone call. Her back was to them, but she seemed to be speaking vociferously. She turned and covered her phone. “Twenty-one million,” she said.

  Stone shook his head and began to stand up. She turned back to the phone, then ended the call. “Done,” she said to the men. “They’ve already begun work on the closing documents.”

  “They should be sent to Mr. Herbert Fisher at my firm for review,” Stone said. “May we meet in his office at, say, eleven AM?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Mr. Hayward, I hope you will be very happy here.”

  “I’m sure I shall be,” Laurence replied. “Would you mind if we stayed on for a while so that I may review the furnishings?”

  “Not at all. This is your home now, pending closing, of course.”

  “Oh,” Stone said, “please tell your people that the apartments will be purchased separately, and the buyer will be the LBH Corporation, of Palm Beach, Florida. A condition of the sales is that no one who does not need to know Mr. Hayward’s name will know it, and any requests from anyone for his name will be declined. We expect absolute confidentiality.”

  “I understand completely.”

  “Very good,” Laurence said. “Although I have not had time to assess all the furnishings, would you do me the favor of calling the owner of the wood furniture and ask them to remove it all tomorrow morning? I shall be replacing those pieces with antiques.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Have a wonderful day, Ms. Gotham.”

  “I already have,” she said, and left.

  They spent more time there, while Laurence made a list of the pieces of furniture he was replacing.

  “You play piano?” Stone asked.

  “Since childhood,” Laurence replied. “At Oxford I began playing with a jazz trio. We played weddings, bar mitzvahs, college parties—wherever the work took us—and I
enjoyed it.”

  Fred was waiting for them on the street. “Where are you headed?” Stone asked.

  “To the Park Avenue Armory,” Laurence replied. “I can get a cab.”

  “Nonsense. Take the car and Fred. It’s a nice day, and I could use a little exercise.”

  “Thank you, Stone.” Laurence got into the car and gave Fred the address, then he made a call.

  “Theresa Crane.”

  “It’s Laurence. I’ve bought an apartment.”

  “Congratulations!”

  “Would you please have all my things delivered to apartment 15 at the Fairleigh on Park Avenue after one o’clock tomorrow?”

  “Of course.”

  “And may I ask a personal favor?”

  “You may.”

  “Would you unpack the clothes and put them away in the master dressing room upstairs? I’ll be shopping for furniture and art.”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  “The concierge will give you the key. One other thing—dinner tomorrow night?”

  She paused for a moment. “Yes,” she said, finally.

  6

  LAURENCE GOT OUT of the car in front of the armory and went inside. He picked up a catalog and was told that the sale would close the following day. It was a show of American art and furniture.

  He began at the aisle on his far right and made a quick tour of the show, making notes on his list along the way, then he backtracked to the displays that interested him. His first purchase was a federal dining table with a spectacular breakfront in matching wood, the two pieces offered at $500,000. He haggled and lost, then bought both of them. He continued, buying end tables and odd pieces, including a table for the small dining room, plus pieces to be used as side tables in the bedrooms. He also bought four Milton Avery landscapes and a number of small sculptures, including a first-century head of Zeus in alabaster and a larger, Greek head, perfect, except for the all-too-typical broken-off nose. Finally, he found a large coffee table, made by a fine craftsman from antique walnut. He paid for each purchase with either his American Express card or a check, and his total came to a little under $7,000,000. He reckoned he had saved $250,000 because the show was about to close and the dealers didn’t want to truck everything home. He arranged for everything to be delivered the following day at the close of the show.