Family Jewels

9

The following morning Stone handed Carrie her new will. “Please have a look at that and tell me if there’s anything you’d like changed.”

She put the will in her handbag. “I’ll read it when I get back to the city, I promise.”

“Well, I could have saved a trip to East Hampton, then.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I’m glad, too. Except for the unpleasantness next door, I’m enjoying myself.”

“At least the odor went away.”

“It left with the remains and the bed.”

“I expect that will make it easier to sell the house.”

“Maybe not. The story will make the local papers, and a lot of people won’t want to buy a house that recently hosted a deteriorating corpse.”

“I suppose not. Bob’s happier, though.”

“Bob would make a good investigator.”

“He’s certainly taken to you. He ignores everyone but Rupert, who feeds him, of course, but even they are not very good friends. Are you particularly good with dogs?”

“I’ve never owned one, but I’ve always gotten along with them.”

“Feel like some tennis?” she asked. “Nicky and Vanessa are very good, and I’m all right.”

“I didn’t bring the gear.”

“I think I can outfit you from the guest bin.”

They played three sets, then showered before lunch.

They had just sat down when a distant phone rang, and Rupert came into the kitchen. “Excuse me, madam, but there’s a Mr. James Carlton on the phone from London.”

“Oh, dear,” Carrie said. “You lot start eating while I speak to the man.” She left the room. Five minutes later she came back. “Stone, Jim wants to speak with you.”

Stone followed Rupert to a phone in the study. “Hello?”

“Mr. Barrington, this is Jim Carlton.”

“How do you do?”

“Not so well, after what Carrie has just told me.”

“Have you spoken to the East Hampton police?”

“Not yet. I wanted to know what was going on before I called them. Carrie said you could bring me up to date.”

Stone gave him an account of events.

“Carrie says you’re an attorney with a good New York firm.”

“That’s correct.”

“I’d like to retain you to handle this for me.”

“My guess is there’s not a lot to handle, unless Ms. Henry was your guest.”

“She was not, and I’ve never heard of her.”

“Then I think you should call Sergeant D’Orio, listen to what he has to say, answer his questions, and if you’re uncomfortable, tell him to speak to me.”

“I’d rather you did that,” Carlton said.

“All right, I’ll represent you. I’ll need some phone numbers.” He noted the numbers. “Now, I have some questions.”

“All right.”

“When were you last at your East Hampton home?”

“At Christmastime. I threw a party on New Year’s Eve and left for London on New Year’s Day, and I can supply a list of guests, if he wants it. I’ve been here ever since.”

“When will your business in London be concluded?”

“As soon as we have a rough cut, then I’ll go back to L.A. and finish up at the studio.”

“Which studio?”

“Centurion.”

“My son is based there — Peter Barrington.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve met him a couple of times, but I don’t know him well. I like his work, though.”

“Have you rented out your house to anyone this year?”

“No, as far as I know it’s been empty since I came to London.”

“Do you think Ms. Henry might be a squatter?”

“Not unless she has a key and the security code.”

“The house was unlocked when I was there, and the security system had apparently not been set.”

“Then I’m baffled.”

“All right, Mr. Carlton—”

“Jim.”

“All right, Jim, I’ll speak to the police and get back to you.”

“I’m at a country inn this weekend. Call me tomorrow at the Pinewood number.”

“Right. Can you e-mail me the party list?” He gave him the address, said goodbye, hung up, then returned to lunch.

“Are you representing Jim?” Carrie asked.

“Yes. I’ve acquired more new business this weekend than I know what to do with.”

“You’re welcome to stay on, if you need time to deal with this.”

“Thank you. I think I’ll need tomorrow, at least.”