Cold Paradise

52

Stone drove Liz back to the yacht, feeling relieved and relaxed for the first time since he had arrived in Palm Beach. His relief lasted only until he walked up the gangplank.

A short, stocky man with iron-gray hair, wearing slacks and some kind of Cuban or Filipino shirt, stood up from a chair, where he had been sitting next to Dino. “Are you Stone Barrington?” he asked.

“That’s right,” Stone replied.

The man didn’t offer his hand. “My name is Guido. A friend of yours sent me.” As he spoke, a puff breeze blew the loose shirt against his body, revealing the outline of a pistol at his waist.

It took Stone a second to register what the man had said and to interpret it. He looked at Dino questioningly.

“Yeah, that friend,” Dino said.

“Oh, sorry. What can I do for you, Guido?”

Guido looked around at the other people. “Can we talk?”

“Let’s go into the garden,” Stone said, leading the way off the yacht and to a bench among some flowers. “Okay,” he said, “tell me.”

“I’m here to bring the lady in question home.”

“All right,” Stone said.

“Where is she?”

“Did you talk to Dino about this?”

“He didn’t seem too interested in talking to me.”

“She’s moving from hotel to hotel, every day,” Stone said. “We know she’s already been to the Breakers and the Brazilian Court.”

“How many hotels in this burg?” Guido asked.

“Lots.”

“Anything else you can tell me?”

“She may be driving a silver Volvo sedan, but I can’t swear to that.”

“That ain’t much,” Guido said.

“I know, but it’s all I’ve got. Do you have any help?”

“I got a couple guys and a Lear waiting at the airport with a doctor and a nurse.”

“Good. Want some advice?”

“Why not?”

“She seems to have been following me. I suggest you follow me, too, but from a distance.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Do you know her?”

“Since she was in diapers; I used to change them.”

“She knows you, then?”

“Oh, yeah; since she’s old enough to talk she’s called me Uncle Guido.”

“Well, Guido, if she’s that fond of you, she might not be so inclined to take a shot at you.”

Guido nodded solemnly. “And she’s a hell of a shot,” he said. “I know. I taught her in her papa’s basement, when she was fourteen.”

“I noticed you’re carrying,” Stone said.

Guido threw up his hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to off her. Those are not my instructions.”

Stone didn’t doubt that if those were his instructions, Guido would carry them out with alacrity. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “Suppose you see her? How are you going to handle this?”

“Decisively,” Guido said. “I’m not here to fuck around.”

“Are the people with you good?”

“The best. They’d do anything for the old man.”

“I suggest you lose the hardware. If I can spot it, anybody can spot it, and the local cops aren’t going to take kindly to out-of-towners packing iron on their streets.”

“What are the local cops like?” Guido asked.

“Professional. They’ve got a smart chief, and you don’t want to mess with him or any of his men.”

“We’ll play it cool, then,” Guido said.

“Guido, please don’t take this the wrong way, but on the streets of Palm Beach, you’re going to stand out.”

“Don’t worry, I tan fast.”

Stone sighed. “I’m not talking about your lack of a tan. People around here can spot an outsider in a split second, and any cop in town would make you as a foreigner from a block away.”

“I ain’t a foreigner,” Guido said hotly. “I was born in Brooklyn.”

“My point is, Guido, nobody else in Palm Beach was born in Brooklyn. And if they were, they’d have learned long ago to look like they were born on Park Avenue. I hope you’re getting my drift”

“Yeah, I get your drift,” Guido said, “and if you were anybody but a friend of my friend I wouldn’t take it too good.”

“I’m trying to help you, Guido. Your friend would not like it if I had to bail you and your pals out of the local can, would he?”

“I guess not,” Guido admitted. “How can we fit in better here?”

Stone thought about an honest answer to that question, but thought better of giving it. “Go down to Worth Avenue, to the Polo store or Armani and buy some nice quiet sports clothes. Jackets, too, like blue blazers with brass buttons?”

Guido nodded, but he was watching Stone dosely to see if he was being had. “You think that’ll do it, huh?”

Stone bit his tongue. “It can’t hurt.”

“Okay. How can I get in touch with you?”

Stone gave Guido his cell phone number. “And you? Where are you staying?”

“I don’t expect to be here that long,” Guido said, and gave Stone his own cell phone number. “Listen,” he said, looking around as if he might be overheard. “My people are not going to feel good about shedding their hardware, you know?”

“Guido, nobody in Palm Beach is going to give you a hard time, let alone shoot at you-with the possible exception of the young lady. And if that were to happen, I think you’d be better off taking a round or two than shooting her. Her father would not think well of that.”

Guido nodded. “You got a point,” he said.

“One other thing,” Stone said. “What kind of cars are you driving?”

“Cadillacs,” Guido replied.

“You might rent something more anonymous.”

“Why? Don’t nobody drive Cadillacs in Palm Beach? I thought we’d fit right in.”

“I’m not thinking about the general public, I’m thinking about the young lady. I think it will be to your advantage if you see her before she sees you.”

Guido nodded slowly. “I get you,” he said.

“Another thing,” Stone said. “There’s going to be a wedding here on Sunday evening, starting at six o’clock. There’ll probably be a couple hundred people. If you haven’t found her by then, you should probably have your people here.”

“Yeah, okay, we can do that.”

“It’s going to mean renting or buying some evening clothes.”

“You mean, like, suits?”

“I mean, like, tuxedos. It’s going to be that kind of wedding.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll look into that.”

“And tell your guys no pastel tuxedos or ruffled shirts. Keep it discreet.”

Guido looked at Stone closely. “You think we don’t know how to dress?”

“I thought we already covered that point, Guido. This is Palm Beach; it’s different.”

He nodded. “Different from Brooklyn.”

“Different from anywhere you’ve ever been before. Give me the names of your people, and I’ll get them on the guest list.”

Guido took a notebook from one of his many shirt pockets and jotted down some names, then ripped off the sheet and gave it to Stone.

Stone read them aloud: “Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones, Mr. Williams and Mr. Edwards?”

“I’m Mr. Edwards,” Guido said.

“Got it.” Stone put the piece of paper into his pocket and stood up. “Thanks for checking in, Guido. I appreciate your help with this.”

“I ain’t doing it for you,” Guido said, then walked away.

Stone watched him go, then walked back to the yacht and found Cal-lie. “Please add these names to the guest list for Sunday,” he said, handing her the paper.

Callie looked at it. “Do these people have first names?”

“No,” Stone said.