Foul Play

Forty-One

Stone had not entered the cottage for a long time. He had forgotten how charming it was. A merry fire burned in the living room fireplace, which was nice for the chilly California nights, and a huge sofa faced the hearth.

She sneaked up behind him. “Hello, stranger,” she said.

Stone jumped, then turned to receive both her and the drink in her hand. She kissed him on the ear with a flick of her tongue. “You always remember what I like,” he said, sipping the bourbon.

“It helps that we both drink the same booze,” she said. “And that we both have tongues.”

“Good point.”

“I locked the door behind you, so we can’t be disturbed, except by the butler, who has been ordered not to emerge until I ring for him.”

They fell onto the big sofa, and she arranged her legs across his lap. He had not realized until then that she was wearing nothing under a silken garment, and that could be seen through, just a bit.

“I can see your nipples,” he said.

“Oh, good. That will make them easier to find when you start looking. Let’s finish our drinks, first, though. I like a little buzz with my sex.”

“How do you manage when I’m not around?” he asked.

“I have a secretary who likes to browse in sex shops. Now and then she smuggles in a toy for me.”

“Sounds like you hardly need me.”

“If you’d like to be useful, you can switch it on later.”

“I hope I can be more useful than that.”

“I’m sure you will be,” she said, “based on past experience.”

They finished their drinks and toyed with each other until hunger overtook them.

“Are you ready to dine?”

“Whenever you are.”

“I bought you a gift,” she said, reaching behind her and retrieving a large box, tied with a bow.

He opened it and found a dark blue silk dressing gown with white polka dots. “Oh, very nice,” he said.

“One can shop at Turnbull & Asser online these days.”

He stood up and tossed his loose clothing on a chair, then slipped into the robe. “Feels wonderful on the skin.”

Holly picked up a little silver bell and gave it a ring. “Dinner now,” she said, standing up and leading him to the table, pausing along the way to slip on another garment to conceal her semi-nakedness.

They sat down and the butler brought their first courses, each under a little dome. He snatched the covers away.

“Foie gras!” he exclaimed. “Wherever did you find it?”

“I brought it from the White House,” she said. “I knew you would be feeling deprived.”

“I certainly was.” He tasted a bite. “Just perfect.”

They were served a roast duck as a main course, and the butler carved for them. Finally, he brought a slice of pineapple upside-down cake, with a scoop of rum raisin ice cream on top, a favorite of his.

They moved back to the sofa and dawdled over cognac.

“Whatever have you been up to?” Holly asked.

“I’m hiding a client and his father from some evil Russians.”

“Which evil Russians?”

“Fellow named Kronk.”

Her eyebrows went up. “That name crossed my desk — or rather, the Situation Room table — earlier this week. My people wanted to throw him out of the country, but unfortunately, he is a naturalized American citizen.”

“I think you can take it for granted that, if that is so, his application for citizenship was somehow fraudulent.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because everything about him is somehow fraudulent. Right now, I’m in the not-so-enviable position of possessing something he will, very shortly, desperately need.” He explained about the patents.

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“I’m going to try to think of a way to use them to get him off my client’s back.”

“And out of the country for good?”

“That is devoutly to be wished, but more than I could ever come up with.”

“Let me see what I can do to help,” she said.

“If you can, do it without ever mentioning my name,” Stone said.

“Not speaking your name is not a problem. Dealing with Kronk may be.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Have you spoken to Lance Cabot about him?” she asked.

“Not yet. I was saving that for when I had an actual idea about what might be done about Kronk.”

“Then don’t. Let’s try and go around Lance this time.”

“That will be fine, as long as he never finds out. If he does, he’ll never let me forget it.”

“You forget that before I was in the White House, I was Lance’s assistant. Nobody knows him better.”

“That’s good, because Lance always seems to be one jump ahead of me.”

“That is Lance’s specialty,” Holly said. “Maybe we can go through Lance, if whatever I learn can be proposed to him as your idea, which he can take credit for.”

Stone laughed. “I like the sound of that. I hope Lance has not replaced one of my buttons with a microphone,” he said.

“You are not wearing any buttons,” she said, loosening his garment. “So speak freely.” She kissed him in a very nice place.

“I’m speechless,” Stone breathed.

It was deep into the wee hours before Stone picked up Holly and carried her to her bed, still sleeping like a child. He pulled back the covers and tucked her in, then he tiptoed out of the cottage and made his way back inside his house.

“Good morning,” a deep voice said, making him jump.

Stone looked into the library and saw Rod Troutman sitting before a fire, reading a book.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Rod said.

“I sometimes have that problem,” Stone said. “Would you like a pill?”

“I think not. I’ll finally switch off, then I can sleep late.”

“Don’t forget to put out the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign,” Stone said.

“I’ll remember,” Rod said. “How are things on the national front?” he asked. “Any wars looming?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stone said, then went upstairs to bed.

“Nice dressing gown,” Rod called from downstairs.