Son of Stone (17 page)

“I’m reading the profile of Vance I wrote for them.”

“Oh.”

“Did you ever read it?”

“No, I was jealous.”

“I”m sorry.”

“Why are you reading it now?”

“There was another phone call from somebody at the
Post,
wanting information about Vance. I didn’t return it, but clearly there’s something afoot. I thought one way to stop it was to say that I’m writing a biography of Vance, to include a memoir of our marriage and his murder.”

“I think that’s a terrific idea,” Stone said. “Once you’re in the new house you’ll have time on your hands, and working again would be good for you.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Arrington said. “I talked with my old agent, Mort Janklow, and he thinks there would be a lot of interest in the book.”

“If you do it, you’re going to have to explain when Peter was born and why his name has been changed, and I don’t think it would be a good idea to tell anything but the truth.”

“I think you’re right, but by the time anyone saw the book, Peter would be older, when it might not matter. If I publish after he’s out of Yale and working at making movies, the publicity might even give his career a boost.”

“The boy wonder stories would run after he wasn’t so much a boy anymore,” Stone said, “and if we can keep a tight lid on it until then, it would be a stunner.”

“I’m glad we’re of one mind on this. Oh, and I had a call from the architect today. Completion date on the house is next week, and there are some last-minute decisions to be made that I have to be on-site for, so I thought I’d fly down tomorrow.”

“For how long?”

“Three weeks, maybe a month. I’ll have to get everything out of storage and moved in, and I want to send some of mine and Peter’s clothes up.”

“Don’t send anything he’s already outgrown,” Stone said. “I’ve bought him some new things, but he’s not done growing yet.”

“Good point. Maybe there’s no point in sending any of his things at all. I could give them to a charity down there.”

“That might be best,” Stone agreed. “I think I’ll move him to a larger room, too.”

“He’s going to have a lot of books and computer equipment,” she said.

“Then maybe the suite upstairs might be a good idea. It was intended for a servant couple when the house was built, and it’s empty,  except for some things stored there. He’ll have a bedroom and a sitting room, and I could get some shelves and storage built in.”

“That’s the sort of thing he would love planning,” Arrington said, “so get him involved.”

“I wish his grandfather were still alive,” Stone said. “He could build everything and do a finer job than anyone I could hire.”

“It’s a pity they didn’t get to know each other,” Arrington said.

Stone got undressed and got into bed. He pulled her onto his shoulder, and she got out of her nightgown. “What am I going to do without you for three weeks?” he asked.

“Or a month. I suppose the way you got along without me for fifteen years.” She caught herself. “Well, maybe not
exactly
the way you got along without me. I can imagine the parade of women who’ve marched through this bed in the interim.”

“Well, I had to do
something
with my time, didn’t I?”

She snuggled closer and moved her hand to his crotch. “I suppose you did,” she said, “but it makes me jealous to think about them.”

Stone rolled on top of her and rested on his elbows, bringing their faces to within kissing distance. “I think I like you jealous,” he said, kissing her.

She reached down and maneuvered him inside her. “Stop talking, please, and start fucking.”

And he did.

 

 

The following morning he drove her out to Teterboro and got her settled on the G-III Gulfstream.

“I’m concerned about your having to see Timothy Rutledge again,” Stone said. “Is there any way to avoid that?”

“Not without firing him, and that would resound in the county, and not to my credit. Also, it would make him even angrier, and I don’t want to have to deal with that.”

“Be careful of him,” Stone said. “You’re right not to want to make him angry; I think he has serious anger issues.”

“I’ll be very correct with him,” she said, “but not friendly. I’ll keep it cool.”

“That’s the idea,” he said.

“You’ll come down and see the place when it’s together, won’t you? And bring Peter?”

“Of course, if he can take a few days off from school.”

“Maybe I’ll have a little housewarming and introduce my new husband to the Virginia gentry. Can you ride a horse?”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking, but the last time I was aboard one was at summer camp in Maine, when I was sixteen.”

“It’s like sex; you never forget how. I don’t suppose you have any riding clothes.”

“No, but there’s time to find a hacking jacket and some boots.”

“Don’t forget the breeches,” she said. “I’d like to see your ass in those tight ones.”

“All right.”

“And get a helmet, too; we’re safety conscious.”

“I will be very safe.”

The stewardess, wife of the captain, came aft. “We’ve got our clearance, and we’re ready to start engines now,” she said.

Stone kissed Arrington once more, then walked down the airstair door and away from the jet. The door closed behind him, the whine of the engines came up, and he covered his ears.

Shortly, the aircraft taxied to runway one, and a moment later, started down the runway, accelerating quickly. It lifted off, the landing gear came up, and in another minute it was out of sight.

Stone walked back to the car, feeling lonely already. He drove back into the city, wondering what he was going to do with himself. He’d become accustomed to being married and to being a father, and he was very conscious that his life had changed in a big way. He felt confident about the future, but not about the next month, with Arrington gone.

K
elli Keane got to work a little late, and the strong coffee she was drinking had not yet cured her hangover. The social part of this job, she thought, could kill you, especially when combined with the kind of sex life she was accustomed to. She was still wearing the clothes she had changed into last evening for going out.

Kelli went into a ladies’ room booth, moistened some paper towels, removed her panties, and gave herself a going-over. That accomplished, she took a fresh pair from her purse and put them on. Now she felt better.

She came out of the booth to find Prunella Wheaton standing before the mirror, touching up her makeup. “Good morning, Prunie,” she said.

“Ah, Kelli,” Wheaton replied. “You’re looking a little drawn this morning. Rough night?”

“Not rough, just long.”

“I’m learning that you and I are more than a little alike,” Wheaton said, “at least, when I was your age. I used to come into work after a night of fucking, with it showing on my face, just like you.”

Kelli checked her face in the mirror and made repairs.

“Come and see me when you have reconstituted yourself,” Wheaton said as she left.

Kelli walked down the hall to Wheaton’s office, accepted hot coffee in her china cup, and sipped it gratefully. “I’m at a dead end on the Calder/Barrington story,” she said.

“What’s the problem?” Wheaton asked.

“There are two problems,” Kelli replied. “First, I ran a check on a birth certificate with Vance Calder listed as father and got back a message saying, ‘Document sealed by the court.’”

“Ah,” Wheaton said, “you’re not going to be able to break that seal, unless you have a records clerk willing to risk his job for a couple of hundred bucks.”

“I was afraid of that,” Kelli replied.

“What’s the second problem?” Wheaton asked.

“I also ran a check, just for the hell of it, on a birth certificate for a Peter Barrington, and I found one.” She removed a copy from her purse and handed it to Wheaton. “Have a look.”

Wheaton read the whole certificate. The parents listed were Christine Carter Barrington and Stone Barrington. “It seems to be in order. What’s the problem?”

“Look at the date of birth,” Kelli replied.

Wheaton looked and seemed to do the math. “This makes the boy eighteen,” she said, furrowing her brow, “and Arrington’s name wasn’t Barrington that long ago.”

“But if the boy was born when your source said he was, that is, after the marriage of Calder and Carter, he would be only sixteen now.”

“That
is
baffling,” Wheaton said, shaking her head and reading the certificate again. “But why would they want the boy born two years earlier? That would obviate Calder as the father and make the boy a bastard. Is it possible that Stone and Arrington had an earlier marriage and were divorced? And that the boy was two when she was remarried to Vance?”

“There’s no record of either Arrington or Stone being married to anybody before the marriage to Calder, at least, not in New York or California,” Kelli said. “I checked the records.”

“The other thing is,” Wheaton said, “as far as we know, Arrington and Stone were both living in New York for the four years prior to the marriage to Vance. So why would the birth be registered in L.A.?”

“I don’t know, and the birth certificate doesn’t list the address of either of them. Also, you can’t live in L.A. without driving, and Arrington didn’t get a California driver’s license until shortly after she was married to Vance.”

“Maybe the boy’s birth date is just a typo on the certificate,” Wheaton said. “Why don’t you check the hospital records and see if they match the year on the certifi cate.”

“Which hospital was it?” Kelli asked.

Wheaton looked at the certificate again. “Uh-oh,” she said.

“What?”

“I missed this the first time. The birth took place at the Judson Clinic, in Beverly Hills.”

“I’ll call them.”

“Don’t bother,” Wheaton said. “The Judson Clinic is a
very
private hospital, the sort of place that
tout
Hollywood goes to when they want a quiet abortion, or a quiet detox, or a quiet breakdown. Vance was very private. There was no birth announcement in the papers, even, and it didn’t make the columns. You won’t crack the Judson.”

“Well, shit,” Kelli said in disgust. “I’m all out of options.”

“Then get Arrington on the phone and ask her to explain all this.”

“I called yesterday, and a secretary told me that Mrs. Barrington is writing a book about her marriage to Vance Calder, her marriage to him and his murder, and that she will have no comment to the press until the book is published, and maybe not even then. And if that isn’t enough, she’s out of town, and the secretary wouldn’t say where or for how long.”

“Well, at least you’ve got that little exclusive for Page Six: Arrington Calder Barrington is writing a tell-all book. Go with that. Maybe somebody will crawl out from under a rock, so make sure your byline is on the story.”

Kelli set down her empty coffee cup. “Good idea,” she said. “Thanks for the advice.” She went back to her desk, wrote a paragraph, including the information that Arrington had, at first, been a suspect in her husband’s death, and took it to the day editor.

“What’s your source for this business about the book?” he asked.

“Her husband’s secretary. She gave me that as a reason for Arrington’s not speaking to me.”

“Okay, I’ll run it at the bottom of the page, but no byline.”

“I need the byline, because it might generate a call from somebody who knows something.”

“Knows something about what?”

“It’s going to take me at least fifteen minutes to bring you up to date,” Kelli said. “Have you got that much time right now?”

“Go,” he said.

So, she pulled up a chair and laid out everything she had.

“Maybe it’s just a typo on the certificate,” the editor said.

Kelli explained why she couldn’t check with the hospital. “So, there are only two people who know the truth about this: Arrington and Stone Barrington, and neither of them is talking.”

“How about the boy?” the editor asked.

“He was pretty young at the time.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know who his father is or the circumstances of his birth. Things like that get talked about in families.”

“I’ve already had a shot at the boy, and he cut me dead, wouldn’t even give me his name.”

“Oh, come on, Kelli; a girl as attractive as you are shouldn’t have a problem getting an eighteen-year-old male to talk to her.”

“Give me the byline, and I’ll give the boy another shot.”

“Okay,” the editor said. He marked up the story and tossed it into his out basket. “Now get out of here.”

S
tone woke up at his usual time and reached, as he had become accustomed to, for Arrington’s ass. His hand fell on a cold sheet, and he remembered that she was in Virginia. She had called the night before to let him know she had landed safely and to speak to Peter, but that wasn’t the same as falling asleep or waking up with her. Stone felt something he wasn’t accustomed to: loneliness.

 

 

Stone arrived at his desk without having shaken the feeling. Joan came in.

“That woman from Page Six, Kelli Keane, called again yesterday. I gave her the story about Arrington writing a book, and I think she bought it.”

“Actually, it’s the truth,” Stone said. “Arrington plans to do just that.”

“Boy, I want to read that one,” Joan said, then went back to her desk. A moment later she buzzed: “Bill Eggers on line one.”

Stone picked up. “Good morning, Bill.”

“A better morning than you may know,” Eggers said. “Hank Hightower called a moment ago and hired us to handle Steele Security—all of it. We’ll have an agreement for him to sign before the close of business today, and he’ll have fired his previous firm by that time, so we’re getting ready to receive their files. His old firm will bombard us with irrelevant paper, and we’ll have to sort it out for ourselves.”