by Stuart Woods
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Acknowledgements
Teaser chapter
Praise for Cold Paradise
“A delightful tale of sex and violence among the very rich … a delicious climax … a Sopranos-style shoot-out … slick, sophisticated fun.”
—The Washington Post
“Roller-coaster plotting.”
—The Denver Post
“Follows an honorable whodunit tradition… . All villains fall before him, and all beautiful women find him irresistible.”
—Forth Worth Star-Telegram
“Plenty of action plus a surprise ending. Replete with lavish homes, gourmet meals, sleek yachts, and willing women—this is an entertaining thriller.”
—The Stuart News/Port St. Lucie News (FL)
“It is Woods’s talent—taking an elementary formula and building a rapidly evolving plot—that differentiates much of his work from the genre’s time-worn conventions… . Fans of the Stone Barrington series will find Cold Paradise a requisite read.”
—Dayton Daily News
Praise for L.A. Dead
“Scrumptious!”
—The New York Times
“Alive with action … so delightfully, typically Woods, it will send his fans into paroxysms of joy… . Entertainment novels can’t get any better than this.”
—The Associated Press
“The best novel in the series. With an exclamation point, Stuart Woods makes it evident that he is a force in the mystery genre.”
—Midwest Book Review
“One of the smoothest writers in the pop-literature biz and always a pleasure to read… . A stylish whodunit.”
—The Detroit News
“Barrington’s fans will likely welcome the detective’s newest California-chic adventure.”—Publishers Weekly
“An exciting story, and Stuart Woods tells it well.”
—Winston-Salem Journal
“[A] nerve-racking thriller.”
—The Stuart News/Port St. Lucie News (FL)
Praise for Stuart Woods and His Bestselling Novels
“An action-packed puzzler.”
—People
“Keeps you turning page after page.”
—The Washington Post
“A whale of a story.”
—The New York Times
“Blackmail, murder, suspense, love—what else could you want in a book?”—
Cosmopolitan
“Terrific.”
—Pat Conroy
“A fast-paced thriller.”
—Rocky Mountain News
“Another gem… . A book to read and get chills from on even the hottest day.”
—The San Diego Union-Tribune
“Woods delivers a marvelously sophisticated, thoroughly modern, old-fashioned read.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
BOOKS BY STUART WOODS
FICTION
Santa Fe Dead
Beverly Hills Dead
Shoot Him If He Runs†
Short Straw
Dark Harbor†
Iron Orchid1
Two Dollar Bill†
The Prince of Beverly Hills
Reckless Abandon†
Capital Crimes‡
Dirty Work†
Blood Orchid1
The Short Forever†
Orchid Blues1
Cold Paradise†
L.A. Dead†
The Run‡
Worst Fears Realized†
Orchid Beach1
Swimming to Catalina†
Dead in the Water†
Dirt†
Choke
Imperfect Strangers
Heat
Dead Eyes
L.A. Times
Santa Fe Rules
New York Dead†
Palindrome
Grass Roots‡
White Cargo
Deep Lie‡
Under the Lake
Run Before the Wind‡
Chiefs‡
TRAVEL
A Romantic’s Guide to the Country Inns of Britain and Ireland (1978)
MEMOIR
Blue Water, Green Skipper
SIGNET
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,
Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a G. P. Putnam’s Sons edition.
First Signet Printing, April 2002
Copyright © Stuart Woods, 2001
Excerpt from The Short Fovever copyright © Stuart Woods, 2002
All rights reserved
eISBN : 978-1-101-10012-7
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into
a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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This book is for Marvin and Rita Ginsky.
1
ELAINE’S, LATE.
Stone Barrington finished his osso buco as Elaine wandered over from another table and sat down.
“So?” she asked.
“ ‘So?’ What kind of question is that?”
“It means, ‘tell me everything.’”
Stone looked up to see Dino struggling to shut the front door behind him. Dino was his former partner, now a lieutenant, head of the detective squad at the 19th Precinct.
Dino came over, sloughing off a heavy topcoat. “Jesus,” he said, hanging up his coat, muffler and hat. “There’s already six inches of snow out there, and there’s at least thirty knots of wind.”
“How are we going to get home?” Stone wondered aloud.
“Don’t worry. My driver’s out there now, putting the chains on the car.” Dino now rated a car and driver from the NYPD.
Stone shook his head. “Poor bastard. It’s tough enough being a cop without drawing you for a boss.”
“What do you mean?” Dino demanded, offended. “The kid’s getting an education working for me. They don’t teach this stuff at the academy.”
“What, how to put chains on a lieutenant’s car?”
“All he has to do is watch me, and he learns.”
Stone rolled his eyes, but let this pass. They drank their champagne in silence for a moment.
“So?” Dino asked, finally.
“That’s what I just asked him,” Elaine said.
“So, I’m back.” Stone had returned from an extended stay in LA a few days before.
“I knew that,” Dino said. “So?”
“Can’t either of you speak in complete sentences?”
“So,” Dino said, “how’s Mrs. Barrington?”
“Dino,” Stone said, “if you’re going to start calling her that, I’m going to start carrying a gun.”
“I heard,” Elaine said.
“I’m not surprised,” Stone replied. “Dino has a big mouth.”
“So, how is she?” Dino demanded.
“I talked to Eduardo today,” Stone said. “Her shrink doesn’t want me to see her. Not for a while.”
“That’s convenient,” Dino said.
“You bet it is,” Stone agreed.
“You feeling guilty, Stone?” Elaine asked.
“Sure he is,” Dino said. “If he had just taken my advice …”
“Mine, too,” Elaine echoed.
“All right, all right,” Stone said. “If I had only taken your advice.”
“Arrington is for you,” Elaine said.
“Arrington isn’t exactly speaking to me,” Stone said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that if I call her, she’s civil, but if I try to reason with her, she excuses herself and hangs up.”
“How’s the boy?” Dino asked.
“Peter’s fine.”
“Does he know who his father is yet?”
“Look, Dino, I don’t know who his father is. It could just as well have been Vance as me. Not even Arrington knows. Nobody will, until we do the DNA testing.”
“And when does that happen?”
“Arrington won’t discuss it.”
“Keep after her.”
“I don’t know if it’s worth it,” Stone said wearily. “I’m not sure it would make any difference.”
“Give her time,” Dino said. “She’ll come around.”
“You’re a font of wisdom, Dino. Know any other relationship clichés?”
“Every eligible man in the country is going to be after her,” Elaine said.
“What?” Stone asked.
“She’s Vance Calder’s widow, dummy, and as such, she’s very, very rich. Not to mention gorgeous. You’d better get your ass down to Virginia and win her back.”
“She knows where to find me,” Stone said.
Elaine rolled her eyes.
Another blast of frigid air blew into the room as the front door opened again.
“It’s your pal Eggers,” Dino said, nodding toward the door.
Bill Eggers came over to the table. He didn’t unbutton his coat. “Hi, Elaine, hi, Dino,” he said, then he turned to Stone. “I’ve been calling you all evening. I should have known I’d find you here.” Bill Eggers was the managing partner of Woodman & Weld, the extremely prestigious law firm with which Stone was associated, in a very quiet way.
“My home away from home,” Stone said. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got a client in the car that you have to see tomorrow morning.”
“Bring him in. I’ll buy him a drink.”
“He won’t come in.”
“Who is he?”
“No names, for the moment.”
“You have secrets from us, Bill?” Elaine asked.
“You bet I do,” Eggers replied. “Ten o’clock sharp, Stone?”
“Ten o’clock is fine; sharp depends on the snow. Your office?”
“Penthouse One, at the Four Seasons. He doesn’t want to be seen with you.”
“Tell him to go fuck himself,” Stone said.
“Stone,” Eggers said, “get this thing done and get it done right, and you could end up a rich man.”
“Ten o’clock, sharp,” Stone said.
2
STONE LEFT HIS HOUSE IN TURTLE BAY EARLY. EIGHTEEN inches of snow had fallen the night before, and the city was a mess. Cabs were few, and he would have to hoof it to 57th Street and the Four Seasons Hotel.
He was clad in a sheepskin coat, cashmere-lined gloves, a soft, felt hat and rubber boots over his shoes. The sidewalks on his block had not been cleared, but the street had been plowed, and he walked up the middle of it all the way to Park Avenue, unmolested by any traffic. The city was peculiarly quiet, the silence punctuated only by the occasional blast of a taxi’s horn and, twice, the sound of car striking car. He made it to the Four Seasons ten minutes early.
It was said to be the most expensive hotel in the city, a soaring, very modern skyscraper set on the broad, crosstown street between Madison and Park. A gust of wind propelled him into the lobby, and he was immediately too warm. He found a checkroom and unburdened himself of his outer clothing, and shortly, the elevator deposited him on a high floor. He rang the bell beside the double doors and, immediately, a uniformed butler opened the door.
“Yes, sir?”
“My name is Barrington. I’m expected.”
“Of course, sir, please come in.”
Stone was ushered through a foyer into a huge living room with a spectacular view of the city looking south, or what would have been a spectacular view if not for the clouds enveloping the tops of the taller buildings.
Bill Eggers came off a sofa by the windows and shook his hand. “Sit down,” he said, “and let me brief you.”
Stone sat down, and immediately he heard another man’s voice coming from an adjoining room through an open door. “Bill?” th
e voice said. “Come on in.”
Eggers stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said to Stone, “but there’s no time. Just listen a lot and follow my lead. Say yes to anything he says.”
“Not if he propositions me,” Stone said, but Eggers was already leading the way into the next room. Stone followed, and a very tall, very slender man in his mid-thirties came around a desk and shook Eggers’s hand. “How are you, Bill?”
“Very well, Thad,” Eggers replied. “Let me introduce a colleague of mine. This is Stone Barrington. Stone, this is Thad Shames.”
“How do you do?” Stone said, shaking the man’s hand. He knew just enough about him to know who he was, but no more than that. Software came into the equation, and multimillions. Stone didn’t follow finance or business very closely.
“Good to meet you, Stone,” Shames said. “Bill says you can solve my problem?”
Stone glanced at Eggers. “Yes,” he said, more confidently than he felt. Shames was dressed in a nicely cut dark suit, but his shirt seemed to have been laundered but not pressed. His tie was loose, and the button-down collar’s tips were not buttoned. Shames waved them both to a pair of facing sofas and, as he sat down and crossed his legs, revealed that he was also wearing a battered pair of suede Mephisto’s, a French athletic shoe. His blond, nearly pink hair was curly and tousled and had not been cut for months. He was clean-shaven, but Stone doubted that he could raise a beard.
“I’ve got a press conference at the Waldorf in an hour,” Shames said, “so I’ll make this as quick as I can.”
