by Stuart Woods
“Good morning. May I answer any questions?”
“Just looking, really. What does the new Bentley sell for?”
“It starts at two hundred fifteen thousand,” the man said. “And there are some options available.”
“Very handsome car,” Stone said. “You just sold one to an acquaintance of mine—yesterday, I believe.”
The salesman wrinkled his brow. “Yesterday? And who would that be?”
“His name is Paul Bartlett.”
“Tall gentleman?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, he came in and had a test drive, but he didn’t buy a car. I believe he went into the BMW showroom next door, though. Perhaps they had something rather more to his liking.”
“Maybe so,” Stone said.
“Would you like to drive a car?”
“On another occasion, perhaps. Thanks for your time.”
“Please come back,” the salesman said.
Stone left and went next door. The BMW showroom was less plush than its neighbor, and the salesmen were lined up along the window at steel desks. One of them leaped up and came toward Stone.
“Hi, there. Can I show you a car?”
“Oh, I’m just window-shopping at the moment. You sold a car to a friend of mine yesterday, though.”
“Oh? Who’s that? We sell cars every day.”
“Paul Bartlett.”
“Oh, yeah. We did the deal on the phone. I picked him up at the airport yesterday. He’s from Minneapolis.”
“That’s the one.”
“Paul got the black 750i, with the V-twelve engine. I’ve got another one on the lot. I could put you in it inside the hour. Why don’t you take a test drive?”
“Oh, I’d just be wasting your time. I’m a couple of weeks away from buying. I just wanted to have a look. Say, where is Paul staying, do you know? He was at the Chesterfield, but he’s checked out.”
“He’s at the Colony. I sent the paperwork over there yesterday afternoon.”
“Oh, yes, the Colony. Say, I don’t mean to cause you any concern, but how did Paul pay for the car?”
“He gave me a cashier’s check from a local bank.” He suddenly looked concerned. “Why? Do you think something might be wrong?”
“Not if he gave you a cashier’s check,” Stone said. “Thanks for your time.” He walked out of the showroom, put up his umbrella and ran back to his car, avoiding the deeper puddles. Well, he thought, Mr. Bartlett has lied about his residence and his car. He is obviously now watching his back. Stone sat in the car and called the Minneapolis Police Department.
“Ebbe Lundquist, in homicide,” he said to the operator.
“Homicide,” a man’s voice said.
“Ebbe Lundquist, please.”
“Lieutenant Lundquist is out of the office for a few days.”
“Might he have gone to Florida?”
“That’s right. Can someone else help you?”
“No, thanks,” Stone said. He broke the connection and called Dan Griggs.
“Hello?”
“Morning, Dan, it’s Stone Barrington. I believe you talked to a Lieutenant Lundquist yesterday?”
“Right.”
“I think he’s on the way down here.”
“He must have found out something that got him moving,” Griggs said.
“I think he wants to talk to Paul Bartlett,” Stone said. “I’ve learned that Bartlett didn’t buy a Bentley but a black BMW 750i. Also, he’s moved into the Colony Hotel. I think Lundquist might appreciate it if you put a man on him. He seems to be getting slippery.”
“I can do that.”
“Tell him not to crowd the guy. Our friend Mr. Bartlett is getting nervous, and we wouldn’t want him to bail out before Lundquist has a crack at him.”
“I’ll tell my man to work wide. Thanks, Stone.”
“And I’d appreciate a call if there are any developments.”
“Sure. You learn anything about that protocol ten-oh-two thing?”
“I talked to my old partner in New York. His guess is that Bartlett is, or rather was, in the Justice Department’s witness protection program, and that he jumped ship and set up a new identity on his own.”
“That’s an interesting theory,” Griggs said. “Has he got anything to back it up?”
“No, it’s just his hunch, but I think it’s a good one. By the way, he’s coming down here soon, and I’d like for you to meet him. His name is Dino Bacchetti, and he commands the detective squad at the Nineteenth Precinct.”
“Love to greet him,” Griggs said.
“I’ll bring him by. Take care.” Stone hung up. He pulled into traffic and headed back toward the yacht, and his cell phone rang again.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” Dino said.
Stone could hear a police siren in the background. “Let me guess; you’re on the way to the airport.”
“That’s right,” Dino said. “My flight arrives at two-thirty.” He gave Stone the flight number.
“I’ll meet you. Dino, you’ve got to stop driving around with the siren on. A trip to the airport is not exactly an emergency call.”
“It is if I say it is,” Dino replied. “Traffic is hell on the FDR Drive right now.”
“And the siren helps.”
“You bet your ass it does. How’s the weather down there?”
“Gorgeous,” Stone said, peering through the driving rain at the road ahead, which was barely visible. “I hope you’re bringing a swimsuit.”
“Damn right I am—my golf clubs, too.”
“Great. How about a tennis racket?”
“You know I’m a lousy tennis player.”
“You’re a lousy golfer, too, but you’re bringing your clubs.”
“If that sonofabitch doesn’t get the fuck out of the way, ram him!” Dino shouted, apparently at his driver.
“Have you got another rookie detective at the wheel?”
“So what if I have?”
“Give the kid a break, Dino. He can’t drive over the traffic.”
“My flight leaves in twenty minutes.”
“So what? You’re not going through the airport; you’re going to flash your badge and drive out onto the tarmac, right up to the airplane, aren’t you?”
“You bet your ass, but I’ve still got to move to make it.”
“So call the airline and tell them it’s a police emergency, to hold the flight.”
“Jesus, why didn’t I think of that? Get off the phone!”
“I’ll see you at Palm Beach Airport,” Stone said, and pressed the end button. He laughed aloud at the thought of Dino holding the flight for a police emergency, then arriving at the airplane carrying his golf clubs.
He called the yacht, and Callie answered.
“Hi. Where are you?”
“On the way back from the Rolls dealer.”
“Find out anything?”
“I’ll tell you later. Have you heard a weather forecast for tomorrow?”
“Rain ends late tonight; sunny all day tomorrow.”
“Thank God. Dino’s arriving this afternoon, with golf clubs. He’d shoot me if he couldn’t play. Can you find us some golf somewhere?”
“Sure. I’ll book a tee time at the Breakers. Ten o’clock okay?”
“Perfect. Dino’s bringing his own clubs. I’ll need to rent some.”
“You can use Thad’s; he won’t mind.”
“Do you play?”
“I’ve got a twelve handicap. What’s yours?”
“We’ll make it a threesome, then,” Stone said, avoiding an answer.
“Well,” she said, laughing, “I’m glad you’re interested in some kind of threesome.”
27
STONE DROVE TO THE AIRPORT, AND THE RAIN HAD STILL not let up. At times he was driving through three and four inches of water in the street, and the wind had started to get up, as well. At the airport, he parked at the curb and ran inside, and the hell with ticke
ts.
He found Dino in baggage claim, just getting his golf clubs off the carousel.
“You didn’t tell me it was hurricane season,” Dino grumbled, handing Stone two bags and hoisting the clubs onto a shoulder. “I should have brought fucking scuba gear!”
“Oh, I just wanted you to see that Palm Beach is a city of contrasts,” Stone said, running for the car and getting soaked while stowing the bags in the trunk. The golf clubs had to go in the backseat. Finally, they were under way, with the windshield wipers trying hard to keep up with the deluge, and losing.
“I’m soaked to the skin!” Dino complained. “You might as well put the top down!”
“I don’t understand it,” Stone said. “The weather was glorious, until you decided to come.”
“Oh, right, I brought the weather with me; it’s all my fault.”
“Thank you for pointing that out. So, how are things at home?”
“Oh, just great. Dolce is out.”
Stone nearly wrecked the car. “What do you mean, ‘out’?”
“Out. She set a fire in her room, which set off the alarm, and while her nurses were preoccupied with that, she got out of the house, took one of Eduardo’s cars and vanished into the world.”
“When did this happen?”
“This morning, apparently. Mary Ann called me on my pocket phone just as I was getting on the airplane. Eduardo is going nuts.”
“She won’t get far. Eduardo will have her back in no time. What, is she running around in her nightgown?”
“She packed three bags, according to the housekeeper, who counted the luggage. I’d say she has clothes for any occasion. Dolce is nothing if not organized.”
“But she doesn’t have any money or credit cards; she can’t travel.”
“Dolce has money of her own, you know, and quite a lot of it. Eduardo settled two million bucks on each of the girls when they turned twenty-one. And she took her purse, too—credit cards, even her passport. There’s nowhere you can run.”
“Oh, shit,” Stone said, his heart sinking. He dug out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial button for his office.
“The Barrington Practice,” Joan said.
“Hi, it’s me. You might get a call from Dolce sometime soon. Can you recognize her voice?”
“Sure I can. I heard it less than ten minutes ago.”
“What did she want?”
“You, I expect.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That you were out of town.”
“Did you tell her where?”
“No.”
“Thank God for that.”
“Bill Eggers told her that.”
“What?”
“As soon as she hung up I called Bill’s office, but he was on the phone. I held, and when he came on the line, he told me Dolce had called, and they’d had a nice chat. I take it Bill isn’t fully informed about Dolce’s condition.”
“Wonderful. If she calls back, try and get a number where I can reach her.”
“Okay.”
Stone hung up and punched the button for Bill Eggers’s office at Woodman & Weld.
“Bill?”
“I take it from Joan’s reaction that I did something stupid?”
“It’s not your fault, Bill, but just how stupid were you?”
“Stupid enough to tell her you were in Palm Beach, before I noticed something about her. I stopped just short of telling her where you’re staying.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Stone muttered.
“What’s the matter with her, Stone? I thought she was just sick, but she sounded . . .”
“Exactly how did she sound?”
“Well, not deranged, exactly, but sort of other-worldly.”
“Does she know I’m doing work for Thad Shames?”
“I didn’t mention that.”
“Okay, Bill, thanks, and I’ll be in touch.” Stone punched off. “She doesn’t know where I’m staying.”
“Her sister does.”
“Oh, no. Mary Ann wouldn’t . . .”
“No, of course she wouldn’t, not if she were tortured, and Dolce is perfectly capable of torturing somebody to find out where you are.”
Stone turned into the driveway of the Shames mansion.
“Hey, pretty nice,” Dino said. “Do we have it to ourselves?”
“We’re not staying in the house; we’re out back.”
“Guesthouse?”
“Not exactly.”
“Uh-oh,” Dino said.
“Come on, let’s get the car unloaded and make a run for it.”
Two minutes later they had dashed up the gangplank of Toscana and were standing, panting, on the afterdeck, while puddles formed around them. Juanito appeared with some towels and two thick terry robes, and took the luggage.
“Maybe you could change into the robes here?” he said, as he padded off toward Dino’s cabin.
Stone and Dino emptied their pockets onto the table, including Dino’s badge and gun, and stripped. They had just kicked their clothing into a sodden pile when Callie appeared.
“Well, hi there, sailors!” she said to the two naked men.
Dino grabbed for his robe.
“This must be Dino,” Callie said. “I can always recognize a naked policeman.”
“Dino, this is Callie Hodges,” Stone said, getting into his own robe.
“How do you do,” Dino said, trying to muster some dignity.
“We have a ten-thirty tee time at the Breakers tomorrow,” she said.
“Great,” Dino said. “We can go there on the boat.”
“Don’t worry—the front will pass through tonight. Tomorrow will be beautiful, I promise. The greens may be a little slow, but Palm Beach is thirsty and will soak the rain right up. I’m surprised your plane was able to land.”
“It took the pilot two tries,” Dino said. “I was ready to bust into the cockpit with my gun and order them to fly back to New York.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Callie said, smiling sweetly.
Juanito came back with a tray of steaming mugs.
“We fixed you a little toddy,” Callie said. “Figured that, with the temperature thirty degrees below normal, you might need it.”
Everybody sat down, and Stone and Dino gratefully sipped their drinks, which were laced with rum.
“Well,” Dino said to Callie, “any more at home like you?”
Callie laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you a date for dinner.”
“Oh?”
“Allison Manning,” Stone said. “Although she’s called Liz Harding these days; you might remember that.”
“I’ll try,” Dino said.
“Callie, have there been any phone calls for me?”
“No.”
“If anyone besides Thad, Bill Eggers, Chief Griggs or my secretary, Joan, calls, will you tell them I’ve gone back to New York?”
“Sure. Who are you avoiding?”
“Mrs. Stone Barrington,” Dino said.
She turned and looked at Stone, and her eyes narrowed. “Who?”
Dino set down his cup. “Well, I think I’ll go get into some dry clothes.”
As soon as he was gone, Stone began explaining to Callie who Dolce was. When he had finished, he waited for a comment.
“Well,” she said finally, “hanging around you is never dull.”
28
BECAUSE OF THE WEATHER, THEY HAD DINNER IN THE yacht’s dining room, which was a symphony of mahogany and teak. Juanito had set a small table for the four of them, and candlelight gleamed on fine silver, as he served the dinner Callie had cooked for them. Dino had taken a shine not only to Callie, but to Liz as well, and they to him.
“What, exactly, do you do on the police force, Dino?” Liz asked him.
“Well, you know how on the TV cop shows there’s always these two detectives who are out there busting their balls to solve the case?”
“Yes.”
“That used to be Stone and me.”
“Oh.”
“And you know how the two detectives come back to the station house and report to their lieutenant, and he criticizes them and second-guesses them and ridicules them and sends them back out onto the street to do it all over again?”
“Yes.”
“That lieutenant is me, now.”
“Was Stone a good detective?” Callie asked.
Stone shifted his weight uncomfortably.
“He wasn’t all that bad,” Dino said, “but he was hard to keep alive. I was always having to shoot people so they wouldn’t kill him.”
“Nonsense! I was a very good detective,” Stone said, “but that second part is perfectly true, which gives you a pretty good indication of what percentage of Dino’s statements you can believe.”
“Tell us about when you saved Stone’s life,” Liz said.
Dino took a big sip of his wine. “Well, let’s see,” he said. “The first time was when we had chased this guy down in a car, and he came out shooting, got Stone in the knee. I put one in the middle of his forehead.”
“Goodness,” Callie said. Both the women were rapt.
“Then there was the time Stone had to jump out of a helicopter because people were trying to kill him. I used a shotgun that time; didn’t kill anybody. Then—oh, this is my favorite—this very strange guy had Stone strung up by his heels, naked, in this old slaughterhouse, about to cut him a few new orifices, and I put two in him.”
Liz blinked rapidly. “Strung up by his heels, naked? Whew! If I had a folding fan, this is where I’d use it.”
“And there were probably a couple of other times, but you get the idea.”
Callie spoke up. “The idea seems to be that Stone needs his hand held.” She took his hand and squeezed it.
“That’s about it,” Dino said. “Stone has good instincts, but he never listens to them. He’s so curious that he doesn’t notice when people are trying to kill him.”
“Tell us about Stone and women,” Callie said.
Dino rolled his eyes. “Don’t get me started.”
