Double Jeopardy

14

Stone and Dino got into the MG, negotiated the two security gates, and headed toward home.

“It occurs to me,” Dino said, “that we haven’t found an interesting woman for you.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Why don’t we pop into the shop for an ice cream cone? That should do it. Pull over.”

“The ice cream part of that sounds good,” Stone said, turning into a parking space. They got out and walked up the steps to the porch. Stone could not help but notice that a tallish blonde in tweedy clothes sat, stretched out in a rocker, absorbed in licking a cone with her left hand, which gave Stone the opportunity to spot the bare third finger. He stopped. “That looks like a very interesting ice cream cone,” he said. “What is the flavor?”

“Bourbon praline,” she replied and returned to licking it.

Stone went into the shop and ordered a two-scooper, while Dino perused the Times, then he walked back outside. “May I join you?” Stone asked, indicating the rocker conveniently empty beside her.

“Please, do,” she slurped.

“I took your advice,” Stone said, contemplating his cone.

“It wasn’t advice, just information,” she replied.

Stone tried it. “If it had been advice,” he said, “it would have been very good.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Usually,” he said, “when I enjoy bourbon, I take it directly from the source.”

“The barrel?”

“Just the bottle. Sometimes with a straw.”

Dino came out of the shop, the paper tucked under his arm. “Are you ready?” he asked Stone.

“I’m just getting started,” Stone replied. “Go get yourself some bourbon praline. She recommends it.” He nodded at the woman.

“How can I resist?” Dino asked, disappearing into the shop.

“That was my friend, Dino,” he said to the woman.

“Is he an interesting person?”

“Usually.”

“He appears to be from south of here.”

“Way south,” Stone said. “He’s the police commissioner of New York City.”

“That is interesting.”

“I try to travel with a bodyguard.”

“Do others seek your demise?” she drawled. Her accent was Brahmin New England, and broad.

“From time to time. Dino must not suspect you, since he has left us alone.”

“He may have misjudged me,” she said.

“I hope not. My name is Stone Barrington.” He offered her a hand, and she shook it with long fingers.

“I am Hester Primrose.”

Stone suppressed a laugh. “Really?”

“Really. But you may call me Primmy. Everyone I like does.”

“What do those you don’t like call you?”

“Hester. Can you imagine?”

“I cannot. Primmy, if I may be so bold, are you a free woman?”

She turned and looked at him directly for the first time with bright blue eyes, to go with the blond ponytail. “In every sense of the word,” she replied.

“Oh, good. We — Dino and his wife, Vivian, and I — are dining at my house around seven. We would be very pleased if you would join us. I live at...”

“I know where you live,” she said.

“Shall we say six-thirty, for drinks?”

“Perfect.”

“We will not dress up for dinner.”

“Excellent. I’m not sure I even own a dress anymore.”

“You’re perfect as you are.”

“Something every woman loves to be told. You’re not bad yourself, you know.”

Dino reappeared with an ice cream cone. “Ready?”

“Primmy, may I present my friend Dino Bacchetti? Dino, this is Hester Primrose, who prefers to be called Primmy.”

“Who could blame her?” Dino asked, shaking her hand. “How do you do?”

“I do very nicely, thank you,” Primmy replied.

“Do you want to finish your cone before we depart?” Stone asked Dino.

“Why bother? You’re driving.”

“Quite right,” Stone replied, wolfing down what was left of his cone. “See you at six-thirty, Primmy.”

“You may count on it.”

They got into the car. Stone got it started, then headed for home.

“The time it took to buy an ice cream cone seems to have been enough,” Dino said.

“I got lucky.”

“You usually do.”

As they turned off at Stone’s driveway, an elderly Mercedes convertible, top down, passed them going the other way.

“What was that?” Stone asked. “A fifty-seven 300?”

“More or less,” Dino said. “Did you see who was driving?”

“No,” Stone replied. “I was absorbed with the car — a very nice specimen. They must have just got off the ferry.”

“Probably.”

“I’ve always liked that year for Mercedes,” Stone said.

“Why, did you used to drive one?”

“No, at the time I became able to recognize the model, I couldn’t yet afford one.”

“Why don’t you buy one now?”

“My garages, both here and in New York, are too crowded,” Stone replied.

“You didn’t recognize the driver, then?”

“No. Was it the Jacksons?”

“I’ve never seen the Jacksons, but I’m certain it was not.”

“Why?”

“It was being driven by one of the Stone twins,” Dino said. “Take your pick.”