by Stuart Woods
“Not necessarily,” Dino said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Mary Ann is smart enough to have a way out of this. If she gets caught, she can just give the pictures back and it would all be kept in the family. No one would want the publicity that would come from prosecuting her.”
“You have a serpentine mind, Dino.”
“Not I—Mary Ann. Trust me, she has a very serpentine mind. She was always a step ahead of me.”
“You know, when I think about it, this might be the most favorable explanation.”
“Favorable?”
“In the sense of resolving it while making the fewest waves.”
“Careful, Mary Ann will be one step ahead of you, too.”
Stone was at his desk the following morning, working on the Bianchi estate financial statement, prior to giving it to the accountants to help them prepare a final tax return for Eduardo and an estate tax return.
Joan buzzed. “There’s a guy on the phone who says he has some important information for you, but he won’t give his name.”
“How crazy does he sound?”
“Not very.”
“Oh, all right.” He pressed the other line button. “This is Stone Barrington. Who’s this?”
“I can’t tell you that now, Mr. Barrington—maybe later. A meeting took place last night in Washington, and what was discussed there has shocked me to the core.”
“What kind of meeting?”
“I guess you could call it a strategy session,” the man said.
“Who attended?”
“About two dozen Republican senators and congressmen. It was held at a private residence in Georgetown.”
“Were you there?”
There was a long pause. “Let’s just say that I have an intimate knowledge of what was discussed.”
“What was discussed?”
“Henry Carson was the de facto chairman. He shared the chair with the about-to-become-former Speaker of the House. These people are extremely angry about losing the presidency and furious about not having control of either House.”
“Are you a Republican, Mr. . . . ?”
“I’d rather not say which party I belong to.”
“Go on, tell me what transpired.”
“Carson spoke to the group, and he was right up front. He said the party strategy in Congress would be to oppose and obstruct—he actually used those words—every bill that was introduced by the new administration, and they would issue talking points to the group about what to say to the press and media when the new administration announced policy initiatives.”
“Every bill? Every policy? No matter what?”
“Every single one. They said they would find ways to peck to death any bill or policy. The rationale for each set of talking points will be created and laid out in the circulated memo.”
“Well, that shocks me, too,” Stone said. “They don’t even know what policy initiatives she’s going to issue.”
“They can guess from Mrs. Lee’s campaign speeches.”
“What do you want me to do with this information?” Stone asked.
“I want you to get it into the press and media. I want to create a big to-do about this, and I want to blunt their tactics.”
“Those are noble aims,” Stone said, “but you’re going about this in the wrong way.”
“Then how should I go about it?”
“Do you have a pencil?” Stone rummaged in a desk drawer for a business card.
“Yes.”
“Write down this name and number: Carla Fontana. She’s the Washington bureau chief for the New York Times.” He gave the man a number. “That is her private cell number. She’s in a position to do what you’re suggesting, but you have to understand, she’s going to have to know who she’s dealing with.”
“I’m afraid of talking to someone like that on the phone,” the man said.
“Then do this: go to an electronics store and buy two pre-paid cell phones. Mail her one with a note saying you will call her at a specified hour, and that if she takes your call, you’ll have a major story for her. The phones will be untraceable, and if you’re worried about taps, you can always throw them away and buy new ones.”
“That sounds good.”
“But she’s going to need to know your identity. Will she recognize your name?”
“Probably.”
“My advice is to be straight with her—don’t lie to her and don’t conceal your identity from her. She has to trust you if this is going to work.”
“May I tell her you referred me to her?”
Stone thought about that. “Yes, but tell her I don’t know who you are.”
“All right.”
“One more thing,” Stone said. “I’m glad you’re being careful, but are you doing that because you fear some retribution? If they find out, will they destroy your career?”
“If they find out, they may destroy more than that.”
“What does that mean?”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Barrington.” The man hung up.
Stone was left staring at his phone.
Stone was picked up at home by Dino, and his driver took them to a side entrance of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where the block had been closed to provide parking for the many limousines of the attendees to the high mass for Eduardo Bianchi.
Inside, a boys’ choir was singing something from Beethoven, and there was the quiet hum of influential people greeting one another.
“I’m not sitting with the family,” Dino said.
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t invited, and if I had been I wouldn’t have accepted. It would have caused too much talk.”
“See you afterward, then. Are you going to the house?”
“That, I’m doing.”
“I’ll ride with you, then back with the kids.”
Stone walked to where the two front pews had been set aside for the family and their friends. Stone walked to where Mary Ann sat next to her son, Ben, on the aisle, in the front pew, greeted her quietly, and murmured some words of condolence. Stone took a seat in the front pew, next to his son, Peter, and his girlfriend, Hattie Patrick.
A moment later, the president-elect entered from the Fiftieth Street side of the cathedral, and Stone rose to greet her. She spoke briefly to Mary Ann, then came and sat by Stone. She squeezed his arm, then sat with her hands in her lap, her head bowed.
The cardinal had just finished his prayer when there was a small stir behind where Stone sat, and he was aware of someone taking a seat in the pew directly behind him, but he did not turn to look.
A procession of the city’s prominent persons—the mayor, the chairmen of the boards of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and two other important museums, and Tom Donnelly, Dino’s predecessor as police commissioner, now a candidate for mayor, all spoke of what Eduardo had meant to their work and to the city. There followed another performance by the choir, then the cardinal gave his benediction and the service ended.
Stone stood and chatted with Kate for a moment.
“Can you and your kids come to the Carlyle for dinner tonight at seven?” she asked.
“We’d love to,” Stone said, then the Secret Service escorted her to where the cardinal waited to say goodbye, then led her out the way she had come—a slow process, since everyone wanted to shake her hand.
Stone turned to look at the people behind him, then froze.
Dolce was sitting quietly in the pew directly behind him. She rose and held out her hand.
“Hello, Stone,” she said softly, holding out her gloved hand.
Stone took her hand. “Hello, Dolce,” he said. “How are you?”
“Much better than the last time we met,” she said.
Stone recalled that, o
n that occasion, she had been carrying a butcher knife. “I’m so glad,” he said.
“Will you be coming back to the house?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Perhaps we might talk for a moment there.”
“Of course.” She was the last person on earth he wished to speak to.
She left the pew and spoke to a few attendees. Then Mary Ann approached her, they air-kissed and spoke for only a moment.
People lingered to schmooze in the pews and aisles, but gradually the crowd dissipated, and Stone made his way back to Dino’s car. Peter and Hattie got into the Bentley, with Fred at the wheel. Mary Ann and Ben were driven in a black Mercedes.
“A nice send-off, huh?” Dino said.
“Very nice. Did you see Dolce?”
“She was there?” Dino asked, alarmed.
“Sitting directly behind me.”
“Jesus, if I’d known I’d have had some men there.”
“She seemed . . . normal, whatever that is for Dolce. You’ll see her at the house.”
“Oh yeah,” Dino said, “I’m really looking forward to that.”
Eduardo Bianchi was interred in a mausoleum in a grove of trees behind the mansion. The cardinal prayed, and the casket was moved into the little building, then it was locked and the key given to Mary Ann.
The group of about a hundred people wandered back to the house, where a buffet had been laid out in the dining room. Stone had seen that the forgeries of Eduardo’s paintings had been rehung in their original places.
“They look real to me,” Dino said.
“They looked real to everybody,” Stone said, “until somebody noticed that check mark on a painting’s frame.”
Stone had something to eat and moved around the room, speaking to those he knew. Then he looked up and saw Dolce standing in a side doorway. She crooked a finger at him and beckoned.
Stone gulped.
Stone left through the side door and stepped into the hallway. Dolce was just disappearing into Eduardo’s study at the end of the hall. He walked slowly toward the study and hesitated at the doors. Finally, he figured he had to do this sometime, and it might as well be now.
He opened the door and peeked through. Dolce was sitting at her father’s desk across the room. He walked into the room, leaving the door open behind him.
Dolce rose, walked around the desk and toward him. She was wearing a tight black silk dress and had removed her hat and veil. She held out both her hands for Stone to take.
Stone liked the idea of her not having a free hand and took them both in his. She presented a cheek to be kissed, and he complied.
“A long time,” she said.
Not long enough, Stone thought. “Yes. I’m glad you’ve fared well.”
She took back her hands, walked to the sofa, and sat down. Stone took a chair next to her.
“The convent provided me with psychiatric care,” she said. “Gradually, I became myself again.”
Stone shuddered at the thought of who that might be. “I’m glad.”
“I want to apologize to you for my behavior in the past,” she said. “I can only claim insanity as a defense—and that, I have found, can be cured.”
“What are your plans?” Stone asked.
“Thank you for sending me the will and the codicils,” she said. “I’m going to take advantage of Papa’s generosity once more and move into this house, into his room, in fact. A little redecoration, and it will suit me perfectly. There’s an old stone barn out back in the woods, near the mausoleum. I’m going to turn it into a studio and paint.”
He hadn’t sent her the will, and he supposed that Mary Ann had. “I didn’t know you painted,” Stone said, trying to keep the conversation moving.
“I did as a girl, and I showed talent. I had time to develop that talent in Sicily, and now I want to make a career.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“Thank you. Stone, I know that we cannot be lovers again, but I hope we can be friends.”
Stone looked doubtful. “I’m seeing someone who is important to me, and I don’t think she would be happy with our being friends.”
“Cordial old acquaintances, then.”
“Of course.”
She rose. “Have we anything else to say to each other?”
“I have only to wish you well—most sincerely.”
“Then I’d better return to our guests,” she said, and preceded him out of the study.
Stone followed her at a distance, breathing large sighs of relief.
When he got to the living room, Kate Lee had arrived, and Ann Keaton was with her. Ann smiled and took a step toward him, but he raised a finger, stopping her in her tracks. Later, he mouthed. She turned back to her previous conversation.
Mary Ann approached him. “Did you speak with Dolce?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t expecting her. How did she seem?”
He almost said “Normal,” but that was a stretch. “Composed,” he replied. “She said she had seen the will, and she’s going to move into this house and take Eduardo’s bedroom, then she’s going to renovate an old stone barn out back and use it for a studio for her painting.”
“She painted as a girl, and beautifully.”
“I think it’s good that she has something to keep her busy.”
“Thank God for that, I’d hate to have to keep her amused.”
“She said she had psychiatric treatment in the convent.”
“Papa told me that, though he didn’t tell me much.”
“Do you have any problem with her living in this house?”
“If I did, would it matter? Certainly, I don’t want to live here, and Ben is in California. How is it going with the estate?”
“Eduardo’s final personal tax return and the estate return have been filed. Progress toward probate seems smooth.”
“How much in estate taxes?” she asked.
“Fifty million, give or take. You, Ben, and Dolce will get more than ten million each, taxes paid. Think you can squeak by on that?”
She laughed, something she didn’t do often. “I guess we’ll have to,” she said.
Gradually, the crowd thinned, and Stone walked out of the house with Kate and Ann.
“See you at seven,” Kate said. “Oh, and bring Dino and Viv.”
“Viv’s away on business, as she often is, but I’m sure Dino would be delighted. May he bring his son, Ben, and his girl, if they’re free?”
“Of course.” She got into a waiting government SUV.
Stone pulled Ann aside. “I’m sorry we couldn’t talk earlier,” he said. “I’ll explain later.” She followed Kate into the car and was gone.
Stone had a word with Dino about the evening, then he got into the Bentley with Peter and Hattie and was driven home.
Stone arrived at the Carlyle on time and found Dino, Ben, and Tessa waiting in the lobby. He identified his party to the Secret Service agent on duty, and they were whisked up to the Lees’ penthouse apartment.
A maid opened the door, then Kate greeted them all warmly, remembering everybody’s name. A butler took their drinks order, and Ann came out of a bedroom and joined them.
Stone took her aside. “This afternoon I had just concluded a meeting with Dolce, Eduardo’s younger daughter, and I didn’t want her to see us talking.”
“Is this the crazy one?”
“Was and may still be, for all I know.”
“The one who tried to kill you?”
“Unsuccessfully.”
“Thank you for not pointing me out to her,” Ann said, laughing. “Wasn’t that a spectacular house?”
“It certainly is. I’ve been working there for a week, getting the estate ready for probate.”
“I want to hear all a
bout Eduardo, when you have a chance.”
“Before I get into that, there’s something I have to talk with you and Kate about privately.”
“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll cut her out of the herd.”
They rejoined the others, got their drinks, and all was convivial.
A few minutes later, Stone saw Ann and Kate walk into a bedroom. Ann beckoned with her chin, and he followed. He found Kate stretched out on the bed and Ann sitting at the foot, on a bench.
“What’s up?” Ann asked.
Stone pulled up a chair. “Yesterday I got an anonymous phone call from a man who told me that he had intimate knowledge of a meeting in a private house in Georgetown attended by Henry Carson, the Speaker, and a couple of dozen Republicans from both Houses of Congress.”
“Any idea who your caller was?”
“Not the slightest. He wouldn’t say if he actually attended the meeting or even if he was a Republican, but he was shocked by what he heard.”
Kate raised her head from the bed. “What shocked him?”
“It seems the purpose of the meeting was to agree on a plan to block every bill you send to Congress and every policy initiative you put forward.”
Kate sat up and put her feet on the floor. “But they don’t know what those are.”
“Apparently, it doesn’t matter what they are.”
Kate shook her head. “I didn’t know Honk hated me.”
“The caller says they’re all angry about losing the presidency and furious about not having control of either House, so it may not have been personal.”
“What did the man want of you?” Ann asked.
“He wanted me to get the story to the press.”
“And did you?”
“I gave him Carla Fontana’s cell number and told him to call her. I also told him that his story wouldn’t be credible if he refused to identify himself.”
“And this was yesterday?” Kate asked.
“Yes. I advised him to buy two throwaway cell phones and send one to Carla, so it may take him a day or two to accomplish that.”
“Ann,” Kate said, “has Carla been sniffing around?”
