Cold Paradise

17

Stone spent the afternoon reading, and late in the day Joan Robertson called from New York.

“We’ve closed with the insurance company,” she said, “and I’ve wired the funds. Want me to fax you a fully executed copy of the document?”

“Please,” Stone replied. “I expect Mrs. Harding would like to have it.”

“Right away.” She paused. “Stone?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something I think I ought to mention. It seemed like nothing, really, but I just have a feeling…”

“What is it?”

“You’ve had some phone calls the last few days, from a man who wouldn’t give his name.”

“What did he say?”

“He wanted to speak to you; then, when I told him you were away, he wanted to know where you were.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No, I felt uneasy about it. I just told him that I’d have you call him, but he wouldn’t leave a number.”

“How did he sound?”

“Nice, at first, then insistent. He was very annoyed that I wouldn’t tell him where you were.”

“And he wouldn’t leave a number?”

“No, but I nailed him on caller ID. The first two times he called from the Brooke Hotel, on Park Avenue.”

“Did the readout give a room number?”

“No, just the phone number. I called it and got the hotel operator. Then, after that when he called, the caller ID didn’t report a number, said it was outside the area or something.”

“When were the first phone calls?”

“Thursday and Friday.”

“Okay, if he calls back again, give him my cell phone number.”

“You sure? I have this creepy feeling.”

“I’m sure. He won’t know where I am.”

“Okay.”

“Anything else?”

“Everything else seems normal,” she said.

“Talk to you later, then.” He hung up and thought about the calls for a few minutes, then he dialed the number of Bob Berman, an ex-cop who sometimes undertook investigative work for him, particularly work that Stone could pretend not to know about.

“Hello,” Bob said.

“Hi, it’s Stone.”

“How you doing?”

“Pretty good. I’m in Florida at the moment.”

“You’re just trying to hurt me, aren’t you?”

“Yes. You up for some work?”

“Sure. What you got?”

“I’ve had a couple of phone calls that are worrying Joan. The first two came from the Brooke Hotel, on Park-she got that from caller ID. You know anybody at the Brooke? Maybe somebody in security, an ex-cop?”

“Nah, not a soul. You got a room number?”

“No.”

“Could the calls have come from a pay phone?”

“No, the number reported was the hotel’s.”

“Would the guest list for that time help?”

“Maybe,” Stone said. “How hard would it be to get it?”

“I might be able to hack into their computer,” Bob replied. “Depends on how tough their security fire wall is. My guess is, if a travel agent can get in to check availability, I can get in. I know a guy at the phone company. He can give me a list of all their lines. Probably cost five hundred, though.”

“Spend the money,” Stone said. “At least I can see if there’s a familiar name on the list.”

“What day did the guy call?”

“Thursday and Friday. I suppose the guest list for either day would do. See if you can get the home addresses of the guests, too.”

“I’m on it,” Bob said.

“Call me on my cell phone when you get something.”

“Will do.” Bob hung up.

Juanito appeared with an envelope. “A fax for you, Mr. Barrington,” he said.

“Thank you, Juanito,” Stone said, accepting the envelope. He opened it to find the fully executed agreement with the insurance company.

“And you have a telephone call,” Juanito said, handing him a cordless phone.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes?”

“This is Dan Griggs, from the Palm Beach Police Department.”

“How are you, Chief?”

“Okay, I guess. I ran a check on this Paul Manning fellow. He’s dead. He was hanged for murder on a Caribbean island called St. Marks a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry, Chief, I should have given you a heads up on that.”

“You knew he was dead?” The chief sounded annoyed.

“He’s not dead. St. Marks is a small, independent nation with a strange justice system and a greedy prime minister. He was bought out.”

“Bought out of a hanging?”

“For half a million dollars.”

“I never heard of anything like that,” Griggs said.

“There are some places where it happens.”

“So you think we might have a murderer loose around here?”

“If’s possible. I still don’t have any concrete evidence of that, but if I come across any, I’ll let you know.”

“How many people did he kill?”

“Three.”

“Well, I think I’d like to see him in my jail.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to arrest him for, yet,” Stone said.

“Three murders isn’t enough? Isn’t there any evidence against him?”

“It happened in another country, and my guess is the evidence no longer exists. According to the record, he was tried, convicted and executed, so, in a legal sense, he’s not only protected by the law on double jeopardy, he no longer exists.”

“Except he does.”

“He does.”

“You got a description of this man? I’d like to distribute it to my people.”

“Tall, six-three or -four, on the slender side when I knew him, although he used to be a lot heavier, I’m told. Hair could be any color. He had a prominent nose when I knew him, though he’s apparently had a nose job, so I’m not sure I’d recognize him on sight.”

“So, tall is all we’ve got?”

“That’s about it. He might have gotten heavier, but I doubt if he’s gotten any shorter.”

The chief laughed. “I guess not. Okay, he’s tall and dead. I’ll let my people know.”

“I’ll call you if I learn anything else,” Stone said. The two men said goodbye and hung up.

Liz appeared on the afterdeck in a bikini, looking fetching.

“I’ve got something for you,” Stone said, handing her the envelope.

She took out the agreement and read it swiftly. “My get-out-of-jail-free pass,” she said, smiling.

“Well, not exactly free,” Stone reminded her.

“It’s worth every penny.” She put her arms around him and gave him a big kiss, reminding him, for a moment, how much he had enjoyed her embrace in the past.

Stone looked over her shoulder and saw Callie coming up the gangplank. “All in a day’s work,” he said, gently removing her arms from his neck.

She tucked the document into her purse. “I’m going up on the top deck and catch some sun,” she said.

“See you later.” He watched her climb the stairs, then turned to greet Callie.

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” she said, poking him in the ribs.

“Just her sincere thanks for a job well done,” he replied.

“What kind of job?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing.

“A professional job,” he said, giving her a kiss.

“If she does it again, I’m going to do a professional job on her,” Callie said.

“Say, have you, by any chance, seen a tall man hanging around the house or the neighborhood?”

“No, but…”

“But what?”

“There was a tall man at the party I didn’t know and didn’t invite.”

“How tall?”

“Real tall; taller than you.”

“Hair color?”

“Dark, going gray.”

“Nose?”

“Straight. Rather nice-looking man. I started to work my way over to him to find out if he was a crasher, but at that moment you arrived with Liz, which distracted me, and when I looked for him again, he was gone.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“Yes.”

“If you see him again-anywhere-I want to know about it.”

“Okay,” she said. “But why?”

“Let’s just say that I’d like to speak with him.”