Kisser

24

STONE WAS AT HIS DESK the following morning when Bill Eggers called.

“Good morning, Bill,” Stone said.

“Can you give me a progress report on the Parsons problem?”

“I can,” Stone said. “I’ve arranged for a female police detective to be dangled before Derek Sharpe, pretending to be an heiress from South Carolina. Actually, she’s not pretending, because that’s what she is.”

“Go on.”

“The idea is that, having loosened him up with a displayed interest in buying his work, she will attempt to buy drugs from him. If that works, he’s off the street.”

“I like that,” Eggers said, sounding surprised.

“Why do you sound surprised?” Stone asked.

“Well, frankly, I hadn’t expected such fast action with the promise of such permanent results.”

“This hasn’t worked yet, Bill,” Stone replied. “Things can go wrong, and the detective is placing herself at some risk.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Have you spoken with Philip Parsons about this?”

“He’s being kept apprised by a staff member of his gallery.”

“And he’s happy?”

“I’ve no reason to think that he’s not.”

“Good work, Stone. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Bill, but be proud when it’s done.”

“I’ll be proud then, too. Good-bye.” Eggers hung up.

Carrie, holding the straps of her duffel, appeared in his office. “Our flight is in two hours,” she said.

“Where’d you get the clothes?”

“From your closet. Didn’t you notice they were there?”

“Nope.”

“Where are your clothes?” she asked, her head cocked to one side, hand on hip.

“They’re in my closet, too,” Stone replied.

“Had you planned to take some with you?”

“What will I need?”

“Something to make you look lawyerly at our meeting and whatever else you need. We’ll be flying home tomorrow.”

“I’ll be right back,” Stone said, rising from his desk.

JOAN DROVE them to LaGuardia in Stone’s car, and their flight was on time. They were on the airplane before Stone realized that he would rather be flying himself. Well, at least they were in first class.

They were met by a car and driver at Hartsfield International and driven to the Ritz-Carlton.

“What time is our meeting?” Stone asked.

“Four o’clock.”

“Why aren’t we returning to New York tonight?”

“In case we need a second meeting tomorrow.”

THEY ARRIVED AT Ed Garland’s office on time and were greeted warmly by Garland, with whom Stone had previously worked on a case, and coolly by Max Long and his attorney. The meeting was called to order, and Stone sat silently while Carrie enumerated her demands. He tried not to hold his breath.

Long’s attorney opened his mouth to speak, but Max stopped him. “Yes,” he said.

“We’ll take yes for an answer,” Stone said. “Ed, can I borrow a typist for a moment? We’ll get this signed now.”

“Sure, Stone.”

Half an hour later, both parties signed, and Max Long wrote a large check. Everyone shook hands and parted.

On the way back to the hotel, Stone handed Carrie her copy of the agreement. “Tell me again why I was at this meeting?” he asked.

“For bodily protection,” Carrie said, “and as a prop.”

“A prop? Like a stage prop?”

“Exactly. You were the attorney prop.”

“You mean you knew that Max would meet your demands?”

“I did.”

“How?”

“He knew that if he didn’t, I would make his life miserable until he did. I knew that he knew that it would be a whole lot easier for him if he just caved immediately, before I could think of something else to ask for.”

“You should have been a divorce lawyer,” Stone said.

“I have been, for the past year or so,” she said. “I’ve learned a lot.”

“You’re a quick study.”

“On stage and off.”

After dining at the excellent Ritz-Carlton restaurant, they made love until they were exhausted and then fell asleep.

The following morning they were driven to the airport, and as the airplane lifted off the runway, Stone relaxed. Nobody had tried to kill Carrie, and it appeared that nobody would. He was able to sleep all the way home.

When he got back to the house, there was a phone message from Mitzi Reynolds, time-stamped the afternoon before.

“Our drinks with Sharpe and Hildy have been postponed until tomorrow night,” she said. “My place at seven. We’re going to dinner afterward.”

Stone breathed a sigh of relief; he had completely forgotten their appointment of the evening before.

“I have plans for this evening,” he said to Carrie, “so I’m going to put you in a cab home.”

“Plans?” she asked.

“In connection with the police operation.”

“You’re seeing Mitzi, then?”

“I am.”

“Do I have to get used to that?”

“You do,” he said, “until we pull this thing off.”

“I’m going to pout now,” she said, pouting.

He kissed her and put her into a cab.

“Call me tomorrow,” she said.

He waved her off and went back inside, still tired from his exertions of the past two nights.

When he walked into his office his phone was ringing. He picked it up. “Stone Barrington.”

“It’s Willie Leahy.”

“Hi, Willie.”

“You’re lucky you’re not dead,” Willie said.

“Tell me why you think that.”

“You were followed from the lawyer’s office in Atlanta.”

“By whom?”

“Well, after I tapped him on the back of the neck and went through his pockets, he was identified as an Atlanta P.I. named Wallace Higgs.”

“And you think he meant us harm?”

“He was carrying a loaded Glock and a homemade silencer.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“But we settled everything at the lawyer’s office. Max wrote her a check for everything.”

“Tell her to cash it quick,” Willie said.

“Willie, how was it that you happened to be in Atlanta and happened to be following us?”

“I’ve been following you since LaGuardia,” Willie said. “I was in steerage, while you were drinking champagne up front.”

“Why were you doing that?”

“I like the lady. I didn’t want her to go to Atlanta, and I didn’t want anything to happen to her.”

“Willie, you can bill me for that one.”

“Don’t worry,” Willie said, and then hung up.

Stone called Carrie on her cell.

“Hey, Stone. Forget something?”

“Yes. Be sure you deposit that check the moment the bank opens tomorrow and tell them to call the Atlanta bank and ask them to put a hold on the funds.”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“Usually,” Stone said. “Just do it. Talk to you tomorrow.” He hung up and began to go through the mail on his desk.