Hot Mahogany (14 page)

“I thought it was pretty good.”

“If it’s such good advice, why don’t you follow it yourself?”

“You mean call Dr. Eliza and just ask her to dinner, as if nothing has happened?”

“Exactly.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s decided to marry another guy.”

“No she hasn’t.”

“Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said to you?”

“Sure I have. She told you another guy has asked her to marry him; she didn’t say she’d said yes, did she?”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“Shut up. I’m mentally reviewing the conversation.”

Eggers was quiet for three seconds. “So?”

“Well, maybe she didn’t say exactly that, but I think I’m entitled to draw that inference.”

“This isn’t a dispute over a contract, Stone.”

“Well, in a way it is.”

“You didn’t have a contract with her, did you? Either written or implied?”

“Well, she must have thought so, because she felt it necessary to report this proposal of marriage to me.”

“Listen,” Eggers said, “I’m getting lost here. What was your original point?”

“I don’t remember,” Stone said. “What was the original question?”

“Uh… oh, the question was Harlan Deal’s.”

“I don’t remember.”

“I think it was more of a contention than a question. He thinks you stole his girl.”

“I wasn’t hired not to steal his girl, was I?”

“You mean you stole his girl?”

“Certainly not. In no way, shape or form.”

“That doesn’t sound like a complete denial to me.”

“What kind of denial would you like?”

“Answer the question directly: Did you steal his girl?”

“No.”

“You’re sure.”

“Bill, if the girl decided to dump Harlan, it wasn’t because I got her to.”

“What did you advise her to do?”

“My only advice to her was to read the prenup and consult a lawyer before signing.”

“Did she consult a lawyer?”

“Well, she says she did.”

“Where were you at the time?”

“At a table at Bemelmens Bar at the Carlyle.”

“Was another lawyer sitting at the table?”

“No.”

“So the lawyer she consulted was you?”

“That would be a conflict of interest, Bill.”

“It certainly would, Stone. Did you advise her to dump Harlan?”

“Certainly not! Why would I do that? Marrying Harlan looked like a pretty good deal to me.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should have.”

“I couldn’t give her advice, Bill; she wasn’t my client.”

“And what, exactly, is she to you?”

“Harlan Deal’s ex-girlfriend, what else?”

“Which is a good enough reason for you to steal her from Harlan.”

“If she had already dumped him, she couldn’t be stolen, could she?”

“This conversation is exhausting me,” Eggers said.

“Me, too.”

“What do you want me to tell Harlan?”

“Tell him? I don’t want you to tell him anything.”

“All right, I’ll tell him you didn’t steal his girlfriend.”

“That would be the accurate thing to tell him. Now I have to go, Bill; I have a date.”

“I hope to God it isn’t with Harlan’s ex-girlfriend, because he’ll find out.”

“Good-bye, Bill!” Stone hung up, then he picked up the phone and called Harlan Deal’s ex-girlfriend. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Meet me in the garage, instead of on the street, okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

30

Stone pulled into the Hotel Carlyle garage and looked around. No Carla.

The attendant approached. “Parking, sir?”

“Picking up,” Stone replied.

The attendant looked around. “Anyone in particular?”

“A lady.”

“There’s no lady, sir.”

“There will be shortly. I’m going to turn around.” Stone did a quick three-pointer, putting the passenger door close to the garage’s lobby door.

The attendant walked over. “I’m sorry, sir, you can’t park there.”

“I’m not parking, I’m waiting.”

“For the lady.”

“You’ve grasped it.”

The attendant reached into a hip pocket and produced a stack of tickets. He was about to tear one off.

“I don’t need a ticket,” Stone said.

“But you’re parked.”

“I’m just waiting.”

“Sir, after you’ve waited for a while, you’re parked. We’re busy here.”

Stone looked around. “I don’t see any other cars coming in or out.”

“Sort of like ladies,” the attendant said.

At that moment the lobby door opened, and Carla emerged carrying one of those plastic duffels with blobs all over it that cost a couple of thousand dollars. The attendant took the bag, and Stone popped the trunk for him, then he leaned over and opened the door for Carla. “Duck,” he said, pulling her down until her head rested on his thigh.

“Can’t you wait until we get to Connecticut?” she asked.

“Harlan may be having us followed.”

“So you want his people to catch us like this?” She bit him on the thigh.

“Ouch!” He put the car in gear. “I just don’t want anyone who’s watching to see you in the car.”

She bit him again, higher up. “Or doing this.”

“Exactly,” he said, “and that hurt.”

“It was supposed to.”

Stone got over to Fifth Avenue, then down to Sixty-sixth Street and turned into the park, checking his rearview mirror. “Just another minute, until I’m sure there’s no one on our tail.”

“Oh, take your time,” she said, biting him again. “I’m enjoying this.”

Stone reached the other side of the park and turned up Central Park West, then left on Seventy-second. “Okay, you can sit up now; I think we’re tailless.”

“Speak for yourself,” she said, biting him again.

“Carla, I’m going to have teeth marks from my knee to my crotch.”

“Closer to your crotch, but who’s mapping?” She sat up. “What a beautiful Sunday afternoon! I hadn’t seen it until now.”

Stone turned onto the West Side Highway and accelerated past a dozen cars, then settled in the right lane and watched his mirrors.

“Why do you think Harlan is having us followed?” Carla asked.

“Because Bill Eggers called me half an hour ago and said Harlan thought I had stolen you from him.”

“Who’s Bill Eggers?”

“Harlan’s lawyer.”

“I thought you were Harlan’s lawyer.”

“I was, ah, sort of on special assignment.”

“You didn’t perform very well, did you?”

“What do you mean? I got the prenup signed, didn’t I?”

“Among other things. But you did steal me from Harlan.”

“You had already made the decision to leave him,” Stone said.

“Well, that’s what I told you. I had to take your ethical considerations into account, didn’t I?”

Stone checked the mirror again and saw a black SUV barreling up the passing lane. “Duck,” he said, pulling her down into his lap again. She promptly unzipped his zipper and began extracting him. The SUV abruptly pulled alongside and paced him. Stone looked left and saw two beefy men through the open window: one driving, the other eyeing him suspiciously. The Hudson River flashed on the other side of the pursuing car.

Carla had achieved her objective and was entertaining Stone.

Stone was able to make small noises but couldn’t speak, because the thug in the car next to him would see his lips move and know he was talking to someone.

The black SUV suddenly accelerated and pulled ahead of him. “Now they’re checking us out in their mirrors,” he said, attempting ventriloquism.

She stopped for a moment. “Who cares?” she asked, then resumed.

Stone tried to focus on the rear of the SUV. It was a Porsche Cayenne Turbo; no wonder it was so quick. Then, without much warning, he climaxed.

Carla kept going for a minute, then pulled back and dabbed at him with a tissue. “There, dear, is that better?”

“It is incomparably better,” Stone said, panting, “but you still have to keep down.”

Then the Cayenne accelerated as if shot from a cannon and flew off at the next exit.

“I think we’re safe, now,” Stone said. “You can come up for air.”

Carla rezipped him, sat up and checked herself in the vanity mirror, dabbing at her lipstick. “You owe me one,” she said.

Stone patted her on the knee. “And you shall be repaid in full, my dear.”

“And in kind, I hope.”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

“We’re not talking about my heart.”

“Whatever the relevant part of you desires.”

“That’s more like it.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t drive into the Hudson,” Stone said. “In fact, I’m still a little woozy.”

“Oh, I knew you’d maintain control of yourself.”

“I don’t think I would have described myself as in control.”

“It’s wonderful how men can do it anywhere, like dogs.”

“You were doing the doing; I was just hanging on for dear life.”

“I suppose you could look at it that way,” she said. “How soon will you be able to do it again?”

“Not until I’m out of the car,” Stone said, “and indoors.”

“Don’t you like sex outdoors?”

“I prefer beds or bearskin rugs before fires.”

“Does your house have a bearskin rug before a fire?”

“It has a fireplace.”

She sighed. “Well, I guess that will just have to do.”

31

Stone kept checking his mirror, looking for the black Cayenne, and once, near Bedford, he turned off the Sawmill River Parkway and stopped for gas, while telling Carla to keep down. He saw no pursuer during the six-minute stop, so when they were back on the Sawmill, he gave Carla the all clear again.

She sat up. “I think I’m beginning to like it down there,” she said. “I was almost asleep.”

Stone continued up I-684 to I-84, after which they were on country roads. He stopped occasionally to check for a tail but saw only weekenders with New York plates, their cars stuffed with pumpkins and overpriced antiques, wending their way back to their very expensive cottages.

Finally, they arrived in Washington and drove down little streets choked with gold and red leaves to his own cottage. He pulled into the driveway and behind the hedge, now concealed from the road. “Stay here for just a minute while I check the house,” he said.

“Oh, all right,” she replied, “but very soon I’m going to want a drink.”

“Very soon,” he said, getting out of the car and unlocking the front door. The alarm system beeped at him, and he entered his code. Alarmingly, it continued to beep. He reentered the code, the only code he had ever had for this house, and without so much as taking another breath, a loud, electronic beep began screeching, and an even louder siren began to wail. He stepped outside the door and yelled to Carla. “It’s all right; just wait a minute.” He stepped back inside to hear the phone ringing and picked it up.

“Hello.”

“This is Litchfield Security. To whom am I speaking?”

“This is Stone Barrington.” He gave the man the cancellation code, and a moment later, the noise stopped. “My code didn’t work,” he said.

“What code are you using?”

Stone told him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barrington, but that is not the code programmed into your system.”

“Then somebody has changed it, because I’ve never had another code for this system.”

“No one here has changed your code, sir.”

“Well, please change it back.”

“What was the original code?”

Stone told him.

“You wish to use that?”

“Yes, please.”

“May I have your social security number and your mother’s maiden name for identification purposes?”

Stone gave them to him.

“One moment, please.”

Stone stood waiting, tapping his foot.

“Mr. Barrington, your code has been reinstated. I’m sorry for the difficulty.”

“But you have no idea how it got changed?”

“No, sir. It can be changed from your keypad, but that requires the original code.”

“Thank you,” Stone said, then hung up. He stepped outside the door. “Okay, Carla, we’re all right now,” he called. He opened the trunk with his key and brought their bags inside. “Here we are.”

“It’s lovely,” she said. “Now can I have a drink? That bourbon you like, perhaps?”

Stone poured her a drink, then took their bags upstairs and returned to pour himself one.

Carla was sitting on the living room sofa. “It’s very pretty, fresh flowers and all.”

“The housekeeper,” Stone said. “Do you mind if I make a quick phone call?”

“Of course not, as long as it’s not for phone sex.”

Stone laughed, sat down beside her, picked up the phone and called Bob Cantor.

“Cantor.”

“Bob, I’ve just arrived at the Connecticut house, and my alarm code didn’t work. Somehow, it had been changed. Do you have any idea how that could have happened? I mean, you installed the system, after all.”

“A very sophisticated electronics nut could use a small instrument to read your code and change it,” he said. “He would have to change the code to get past your system, then change it back before he left.”

“He didn’t change it back.”

“Then one of two things happened: Either he forgot to change it back, or he wanted you to know he had been there.”

“Why would he want that?”

“Just to annoy you, probably, and to make you feel unsafe in your own house.”

“How can I prevent this happening again?”

“I have a modified circuit card that can be installed in your keypad that will make the alarm go off immediately if he should try it again. It won’t even wait the usual thirty seconds.”

“When can you install it?”

“How soon do you want it done?”

“As soon as possible.”

“I can drive up there now, if you like, but you’re going to have to buy me dinner and put me up for the night.”

“There’s a problem with that.”

“I take it you are not traveling alone.”

“Correct, but I’ll put you up at the local inn and buy you dinner there.”

“Oh, good, then I can bring company.”

“Sure, you can.” Stone looked at his watch. “We’re going to dinner at seven-thirty; I suggest you arrive at the house shortly after that, do your work, then go check in at the Mayflower. I’ll make your reservation.”

“You are a prince, sir. Good-bye and God bless thee.” Cantor hung up.

“That’s pretty good service,” Carla said.

“It’s pretty expensive service, but it’s worth it, so that we won’t be disturbed.”

“Do we have to do anything while we’re here except make love?”

“Well, between times, when I should be resting, I have to go and see a client who lives a few miles from here. You might enjoy seeing his place.”

“Well, all right, as long as I can spend most of my time enjoying you.”

“You may certainly do that.”

“After all, it’s why we came, isn’t it?”

“It’s one of the reasons,” he replied.

“What are the others?”

“You’ll have to discover them one at a time.”

“May I begin now, so that I will have something to freshen up from when we have dinner? Remember, you owe me one.”

“I can arrange immediate repayment,” he said, taking her hand and leading her upstairs.

32

Stone and Carla went to the Mayflower Inn for dinner, and as they entered, piano music was coming from the bar.

Carla perked up. “Who’s playing?” she asked.

“David Grossman plays in the bar on weekends,” Stone said. They stopped at the bar’s entrance, the dining room still ahead of them.

“Can we eat in the bar?” Carla asked.

“Sure.” Stone let the headwaiter know, and they found a snug table along the wall facing the bar and not too far from the pianist, who was playing standards twice as old as he with great fluency. They ordered drinks and menus.

“I like this inn,” Carla said.

“Lots of people do. It was designed as a school by the same architect who did my cottage and the big house next door, called The Rocks, and it was redone at great expense by a retired stockbroker and his wife who recently sold it to somebody I don’t know.”

Their drinks arrived, and they began looking at menus. Stone looked up and saw Bob Cantor standing in the hall outside the dining room.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Carla said. “Ladies’ room.”

Stone moved the table out for her and decided to go and speak to Cantor.

“Hey,” Cantor said, as Stone approached. “Let me introduce you to Bonnie Pepper. Bonnie, this is my friend, Stone Barrington.”

Bonnie Pepper was small, blonde and cute. “Hello, Bonnie, it’s good to meet you. Bob, have you already been to the house?”

“Oh, yeah, it only took me ten minutes to change the circuit board and reprogram the system.” He dug into a pocket and produced a card with a four-digit number written on the back.

Stone looked at the card. “These are the last four digits of my Social Security number,” he said. “How did you know that?”

“There’s nothing I don’t know or can’t find out about you, Stone,” Cantor said.

“You want to join us for dinner in the bar?” Stone asked.

“I think we’ll go to the dining room,” Cantor said, winking.

Clearly Bob wanted to be alone with his girl.

“Was that your date who walked out ahead of you?”

“Yes,” Stone replied.

“I know her,” Cantor said.

“Lots of people do.”

Someone tapped Stone on the shoulder from behind. He turned and found Harlan Deal standing there.

“Harlan!” Stone said, half in surprise, half in shock.

“Good evening, Mr. Barrington,” Deal said. “What brings you to Connecticut?”

“I have a house here,” Stone said.

“Would you like to join some friends and me for dinner?”

“Thank you, Harlan, but I’ve already eaten, and I want to turn in early. It’s been a long week.”

“Of course,” Deal said.

Stone glanced over Deal’s shoulder and saw Carla come out of the ladies’ room. He hoped to God that she saw Harlan.

“I’m very grateful for the good work you did on the prenup,” Deal said.

“I’m glad to have been of help. I hope you’ll both be very happy.” Carla had not seen Deal. She was walking straight toward them. Then she stopped, started walking backward, and disappeared into the ladies’ room again.

Stone tried to control his sigh of relief.

“Actually I’ve changed my mind and decided not to marry her,” Deal said.

“A gentleman’s prerogative as well as a lady’s.”

“I felt she was unfaithful.”

“I’m sorry.” God, he wanted to get away from this man, but he kept a smile frozen on his face. He was determined to let Deal break off the conversation first.

Cantor broke in. “Excuse us, Stone. Our table is ready,” he said.

Stone gratefully turned toward him. “Bob, Bonnie, I hope you enjoy your dinner.” He watched them walk into the dining room, then turned back, hoping to find Deal gone.

He was not gone. “Are you sure you won’t join us, just for a drink?”

“Perhaps another time.”

“I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity,” Deal said. “I’ve been house hunting all day, and I think I’ve found something.”

“Congratulations, where is it?”

“It’s called The Rocks, and it’s only a quarter mile from here.”

The Rocks was the big house next door to Stone’s. “Oh? I hadn’t heard it was on the market.”

“It isn’t, but my agent, Carolyn Klemm, showed it to me anyway. Anything is for sale, you know, at the right price.”

“Well, Carolyn should know. She sold me my house, too. In fact, it was originally the gatehouse for The Rocks.”

“Well, if I buy The Rocks, perhaps you’ll sell me your place, and I can reunite the two.”

“I don’t think so, Harlan, but I’ll be happy to have you for a neighbor.” This was an outright lie, and Stone hoped it didn’t show.

“We’ll see,” Deal said. “Well, I’d better join my friends. Good night.” Deal shook his hand, turned and walked into the dining room.

Stone ducked into the bar and peeped into the hall, looking for Carla. She came out of the ladies’ room and bolted for the front door.

Stone flagged down the bartender. “I have to go. Put the drinks on my account.” He found Carla in the car, waiting for him.

“I don’t believe it,” she said. “That man is
everywhere
.”

“He certainly is,” Stone said, starting the car. “I think we’ll dine elsewhere.”

Stone and Carla sat on the bed, watching a DVD of
Singin’ in the Rain
and eating a large, heavily laden pizza that Stone had picked up at the pizza parlor in the village.

“I love Gene Kelly,” Carla said.

“So do I.”

“I think he’s the best dancer this country has ever produced.”

“Better than Baryshnikov?”

“Baryshnikov was produced by Russia.”

“Oh, right.”

“I think he’s a terrific singer, too.”

“So do I, but he’s not as good as you, and as far as I know, he didn’t play piano, either.”

Stone’s cell phone vibrated on his belt. He looked at the calling number in the little window. Bob Cantor was calling. What the hell did he want? He ignored it and let it go to voice mail. He considered telling Carla of Harlan Deal’s interest in The Rocks but thought better of it. That might put a damper on their sex life.

33

The following morning, Stone was contemplating getting out of bed when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Dino.”

“Good morning.”

“It’s almost afternoon.”

“It’s ten A.M.,” Stone said. “What’s up?”

“I got a call to come in this morning about another case, and I reran last night’s GPS surveillance on Charlie Crow’s car.”

“Where did he go?”

“Just to one place: It was parked for a little under three hours at Abner Kramer’s house.”

“No kidding?”

“Well, he could have been next door or across the street, I guess. After all, the GPS unit is attached to his car, not to him, but that’s where his car was parked.”

“What was the time?”

“He arrived a little after eight and left a little before eleven.”

“Sounds like dinner,” Stone observed.

“Does Charlie Crow sound like the sort of guy an elegant fellow like Kramer would invite to dinner?”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Stone reminded him. “Not even in dinner companions.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just thought you’d like to know.”

“Have you made up with Genevieve?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that she’s talking to me but not sleeping with me.”

“Have you found out what she was pissed off about?”

“Not a clue. I’ve wracked my brain.”

“She’ll get around to telling you, don’t worry.”

Carla stirred next to Stone.

“Gotta run,” Stone said. He hung up and gave his full attention to Carla. 

When they had showered and dressed, Carla suddenly said,

“How about a picnic?”

“A picnic? What do you mean?”

“Well, you pack a lunch, put down a blanket in a pretty spot and eat.”

“Oh, that kind of picnic.”

“Is there any other kind?”

“I guess not.”

“Do you know of such a spot?”

Stone thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I do,” he said. “A clearing on a hilltop overlooking a fine landscape and a handsome house in the distance.”

“That should do nicely,” she said.

Stone found an old wicker basket with dishes and silver inside that he had discovered in a closet when he had bought the house. They drove down to the Village Market and bought a chicken, some salads and a cold bottle of wine, and Stone drove them to the hilltop road he had visited with Barton and Holly the week before. He parked the car, and they walked down a path to the little clearing.