Naked Greed (Stone Barrington)

by Woods, Stuart

  “Night-night, sweetie. Dream about me.” She hung up.

  Ryan called the Four Seasons and booked a suite. He gulped at the price, but he had the money, so what the hell?

  Ryan picked up his dry cleaning and laundry and packed a three-night bag, just in case. He was as horny as he had ever been in his life. It had been weeks since he’d gotten laid, and he was very itchy.

  He took five grand from his stash in the safe he had bolted to the cement floor in his closet. He thought about taking ten grand, but the last time he’d had a pocketful of money, somebody had stolen it, and he still didn’t entirely trust her. While he was at it he took the bank bands off the cash and replaced them with rubber bands, then burned the bands in the sink and ran them through the garbage disposal.

  He showered and shaved and dressed in a freshly pressed suit, so as to fit in at the Four Seasons. He would allow an hour and a half for the drive into the city, twice as long as usual, because it would be rush hour, and the tunnel would be jammed. He drove out of the garage at four-thirty, and as he passed the front of his building he saw two black sedans drive up to his building, and one of them had a state seal on the door. What the hell, they weren’t looking for him; he drove on toward the city.

  —

  Dino called Stone.

  “How you feeling?”

  “Chipper, fine. Didn’t we have this conversation before?”

  “Not after last night.”

  “What about last night?”

  “Aren’t you just the tiniest bit hungover?”

  “Why should I be hungover?”

  “Because last night you drank as much as I’ve ever seen you drink, and I had to put you to bed.”

  “What are you talking about? I put myself to bed, the way I always do, unless Viv is home, then she puts me to bed. By the way, Viv is why I called. I agreed a while back to speak to some of her client’s employees at a gathering this evening, and she just called to tell me that the client is bringing his daughter, who she would like you to partner with at the dinner.”

  “Do I have to listen to you speak?”

  “I’m the entertainment—you’re a lucky guy.”

  “What’s the woman like?”

  “I hear she resembles a camel, but that’s right up your alley, isn’t it?”

  “All right. What time and where?”

  Dino told him.

  “Hey, what happened about going to New Jersey?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Last night you said you and I were going to go out there and arrest Gene Ryan.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Certainly not. We were going to collar the guy and bring him back.”

  “An ex-cop and the police commissioner were going to arrest a guy in Jersey without an extradition warrant and bring him back to the city?”

  “That was your plan, as I recall.”

  “Listen, pal, you must have been a lot drunker than I was. See you at seven.”

  —

  Two NYPD detectives and two New Jersey state cops found Ryan’s apartment and hammered on the door. Nothing. They hammered more and still, nothing.

  “So what now?” a Jersey cop asked. “You want to break it down?”

  “Anybody here object to a little, ah, informal entry? Just to have a look around?”

  “You think we do that sort of thing in New Jersey?”

  “Sure, I do.”

  “Go ahead, if it makes you happy,” the Jersey cop said.

  The detective produced a set of lock picks, and two minutes later they were inside.

  “Hey, nice place,” the Jersey cop said.

  “Better than I had thought,” the NYPD cop replied.

  They had a look around. The furniture was handsome, the prints on the wall were nice, and the clothes were neatly put away in the closet/dressing room.

  “What have we here?” the Jersey cop asked, pointing into the closet.

  “I’d say that’s a thousand-dollar safe,” the NYPD cop replied.

  “I guess you want to look in there, too, huh?”

  “I’d love to know what’s in there, but I’m no yegg. Anybody here can open that safe without dynamite?”

  All heads were shaken.

  He looked through all the clothes. “There’s nothing in this place that even identifies the occupant,” the NYPD cop said. “We may as well get the fuck out of here.”

  “Great minds think alike,” the Jersey cop said. “You guys let us know when you know what you’re doing, and we’ll come back for another, hopefully more fruitful, visit.”

  They locked up and left.

  —

  Ryan gave his car to the doorman at the Four Seasons, and somebody drove it away and did God-knows-what with it. He couldn’t see a garage. He checked in, got two key cards, and sent his bag up to his suite with a bellman and a fifty-dollar bill.

  “Unpack for me, will you?”

  “Yes, sir,” the young man said, and trotted away.

  Ryan found the bar and settled into a booth. He waved the waiter away. “When my lady gets here.”

  At the stroke of six o’clock, Sylvia Mays, if that was her name, strolled into the bar, towing a single bag on wheels, and he rose to meet her. She slid into the booth beside him, and the waiter appeared. “What’s your pleasure?” Ryan asked.

  “Knob Creek on the rocks,” she said.

  “That and a Macallan Twelve,” Ryan said, “and will you ask a bellman to take the lady’s bag up to my suite? Ryan’s the name, I just checked in.”

  Booze was served, and he looked her up and down. “Very nice,” he said, “even nicer than before.”

  “You’re looking pretty good yourself,” she said.

  They chatted for a bit.

  “What time is dinner?” she asked.

  “I booked in the restaurant at eight.”

  She stroked his thigh. “That gives us an hour and a half, doesn’t it?”

  —

  They were in the suite and undressed in a flash, and Ryan thought she looked even better naked than clothed. They were pretty quick, then they rested in each other’s arms.

  “It’s a very nice suite,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “And you are very nice in the sack,” he replied.

  She fondled him. “How about a replay?”

  “Whatever you say.”

  It was a nice evening, so Stone walked up to the Four Seasons for Dino’s event. As he approached the elevator banks he saw a couple walk into a car. They turned and faced the doors as they closed, and Stone caught sight of Gene Ryan, or at least he thought he did. The elevator started up, and before he could see how high it went, Stone was hustled into another elevator by Dino on one arm and Viv on the other.

  “I swear I just saw Gene Ryan get onto another elevator,” Stone said.

  “It’s what, six-thirty?” Dino asked. “Are you drunk already?” He turned to his wife. “Viv, we’ve got to get Stone to cut down on his drinking. It’s getting out of hand.”

  “Extremely amusing,” Stone said as the elevator doors opened and they stepped into a hallway.

  “Stone hallucinates when he drinks too much,” Dino said, pushing him toward the end of the hallway.

  “Is this a dinner?” Stone asked.

  “No, it’s a cocktail party,” Viv said, “but we’re having dinner later. Let me brief you: my client is Henry Hasker of Hasker & Hasker, a very large hedge fund based in Chicago. His daughter is Henrietta, known as Hank, who has just opened a New York office for the firm. That is the event being celebrated this evening. Henry doesn’t like big dinners, so he invited a couple of dozen of his top people for drinks and heavy hors d’oeuvres, so they won’t go away hungry, then we’re joining Henry and his wife, Helen, for dinner, wh
ich will be served in the suite, and of course Hank will be there, as well. Having just moved to New York, she doesn’t know a lot of people, hence my request for your company.”

  “What’s she like?” Stone asked, as they reached the double doors of the suite.

  “I’ve no idea,” Viv said. “I haven’t met her.”

  “I hear she resembles a camel,” Dino said, ringing the bell.

  The door was opened by a uniformed butler, and they stepped into the living room of what Stone thought must be the Presidential Suite, because it was huge. A pianist and a bass player were delivering light jazz in a corner of the room, and waiters in red jackets were circulating among the fifty or so H&H employees and their spouses or significant others. A tall man who had to be Henry Hasker detached from a group and introduced himself, then began introducing them to people, none of whose names Stone caught. Then unexpectedly a six-foot-tall knockout of a woman in a strapless cocktail dress materialized, and Stone caught her name: Hank. In heels, she was as tall as Stone, maybe a little taller.

  “How do you do?” Stone asked.

  “I do very well, thank you. I’ve heard quite a lot about you. Dino says you’re a terrible drunk.”

  “As you get to know Dino better,” Stone said, “you will learn that he is an inveterate liar, especially when I am the subject.”

  A waiter appeared with two drinks on a tray. “Knob Creek on the rocks,” he said, and Hank took the other one.

  Dino couldn’t help laughing. “What did I tell you, Hank?”

  Stone took the drink and raised his glass to Dino. “Why don’t we go and talk to somebody else,” Stone said, taking Hank’s arm and steering her toward the grand piano, “like each other?”

  “What a good idea,” she said, “and accompanied by good jazz.”

  “I understand you’ve just arrived in our city,” Stone said.

  “Only a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Have you found a place to live?”

  “Dad has kept an apartment here for several years. I’m camping there, until I can find time to look for a place of my own.”

  “I suppose you don’t have much time for anything but work.”

  “Oh, I can be tempted.”

  “Temptation is one of the things I do best,” Stone said.

  “What are the others?” she asked.

  —

  Ryan and Sylvia woke from a sex-induced nap. “We’re half an hour late for dinner,” he said. “I’d better let them know we’re still coming.” He reached for the phone.

  “Are you sure you want to go down for dinner?” she asked, scratching his chest.

  “I need the rest,” he said, and rebooked their table. He got up and began dressing. He took a holster containing a small 9mm semiautomatic and snapped it to his belt.

  “Do you always carry?” she asked, getting into her clothes.

  “Nearly always,” he replied. “I was a cop for a long time, and I got used to it. I feel naked without a piece.”

  “I know the feeling,” she said. “I was carrying on the train, but today I had to fly. I couldn’t even bring a switchblade.”

  “Jesus, you carry a knife? What have I got myself into here?”

  “You’re into a lady who knows how to protect herself. In my business you never know when a mark is going to turn bad on you. Don’t worry, I’ve only had to knife one guy, and just enough to teach him some manners.”

  They took the elevator to the lobby and walked into the dining room, where they were seated immediately.

  —

  One of Dino’s two detectives for the event was seated in the lobby, reading the Post. He reached for his cell phone and made a call.

  —

  Upstairs, Dino’s phone went off; he checked the caller ID before stepping out of a group and answering. “Talk fast,” he said.

  “Boss, I just saw Gene Ryan walk into the hotel dining room with a woman. Should I take him?”

  “Not alone,” Dino said. “Call for backup, but only plainclothes, no fuss. Take him when he leaves the dining room and get him into a car fast. And be careful, he’s probably packing.”

  He hung up and rejoined his group, passing Stone on the way. “Maybe you’re not crazy,” he said.

  “Huh?” But Dino was quickly in conversation with a couple.

  “Did Dino say you’re not crazy?” Hank asked.

  “That’s what passes for a compliment from Dino.”

  Henry Hasker called for silence, welcomed the crowd, and introduced Dino. Dino gave them ten minutes on the NYPD and how well-protected they were in his city. Mike Freeman had arrived, so Dino also told them how important private security was and how he looked upon them as an extension of his department.

  After Dino finished, people started to leave, as if on command, and shortly, dinner was announced.

  The suite contained a handsome dining room and a beautifully set table.

  Dino stepped aside and called his detective. “What’s happening?”

  “Backup is here—we’re waiting for Ryan to finish his dinner, so we can make the bust.”

  “Keep it as quiet as you can,” Dino said.

  Stone approached. “What’s going on?”

  “Are you carrying?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Then take a tip and stay as far as you can from me.” Dino went and took his place at the table without another word.

  Stone sat between Viv and Hank. Viv leaned over and said, “The next time Dino describes a woman as a camel, I’ll know what he means.”

  Stone laughed. He turned to Hank. “We were talking about you—don’t worry, it was nice.”

  “Are you married?” Hank asked.

  “Widowed. What about you?”

  “Divorced. I’m sorry for your loss. Was your wife ill for long?”

  “She died from a gunshot wound—a repelled suitor.”

  “Any children?”

  “A grown son, but he was raised mostly by his mother and stepfather. We didn’t become close until after the gentleman’s death and my reacquaintance with his mother.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “It is. I’ll explain it to you when we have more time.”

  “What does your son do?”

  “He’s a film director and producer.”

  “Not Peter Barrington.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve seen a couple of his films. He’s very talented.”

  “He and Dino’s son, Ben, are partners in a production company based at Centurion Studios, in L.A.”

  “I’d like to meet him sometime. I’m interested in film—or rather, film people—as an investment opportunity.”

  “Then Peter would be a waste of your time. His stepfather was the actor Vance Calder, and as a result, Peter has a large inheritance and is a major stockholder in Centurion. He’s probably a freer agent than anybody in Hollywood.”

  “Then perhaps I should meet him as a prospective investment client.”

  “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be a good use of your time, either. Peter is very well advised on all fronts, and he doesn’t have much personal interest in finance, except with regard to film.”

  “It sounds as if the Barrington men are impervious.”

  “This Barrington certainly isn’t.”

  She smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Where do you suggest I look for an apartment?”

  “If you’re into hip or cool or whatever the latest thing is these days, go downtown. If not, the Upper East Side might be more comfortable for you. How much space do you need?”

  “Well, as a single girl, not so much, but as a businesswoman, quite a lot. I expect to do some entertaining.”

  “I’ll give you the names of a couple of brokers when we meet again.”


  “And when would that be?”

  “It can’t come soon enough for me. How about tomorrow night?”

  “Love to.”

  “Come to dinner at my house, then. I’ll cook something for us.”

  “Are you a good cook?”

  “I am. I have a repertoire of three or four dishes, and I do those well. Beyond that I’m just a diner and a chooser of wines.” He slipped a card into her hand. “Seven o’clock?”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “As will I.”

  “You’re an interesting man, Stone.”

  “How would you know that? We’ve just met—you know only that I’m widowed, have a son, and cook a few dishes.”

  “I’m not without my sources. I also know that you’re a retired policeman, that you fly your own airplane, and that your mother was a well-known painter. I expect you know a good deal less about me.”

  “You’re quite right. Until this afternoon I didn’t know you existed, and then I had to deal with some misinformation.”

  “Misinformation?”

  “From Dino, but I’m accustomed to that. However, what I’ve seen and heard impresses me and makes me want to know more.”

  “Are you interested in investments, then?”

  “Not very much.”

  “Then what does interest you?”

  “That remains to be seen, starting tomorrow evening.”

  “How shall I dress?”

  “Comfortably.”

  The dinner came to an end, and Stone thanked his host and hostess. He had met Helen Hasker only in passing, but he liked her.

  “May I give you a lift somewhere?” Stone asked Hank.

  “I’m at the Waldorf,” she said.

  “That’s on my way.”

  They followed the Bacchettis down the hall to the elevators.

  When the car came, the Bacchettis got on, then Dino raised a hand and said, “Take the next one,” and the door closed.

  “Does he think we want to be alone?” Hank asked.

  “I don’t think so. Something is going on that we’re not privy to.” The next car came, and they got on.

  “Well, what will we do on the ride down?” she asked.

  Stone kissed her. “Not as much as I’d like to do.”