Son of Stone

60

D avid Rutledge looked at the first copy of his magazine’s new issue and thought the Virginia shoot had turned out very well. As he scanned the piece he felt a pang of conscience. He had not done the right thing, and he regretted it. What had he been thinking?

He picked up the phone and dialed 411. A minute or so later he was talking to the sheriff of Albemarle County.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Rutledge? Are you related to Tim Rutledge?”

“Yes, I am,” David replied. “He’s my cousin.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about his whereabouts?”

“Yes. He’s in New York.”

“How do you know that?”

“He called me from a bar near my home in the city, and I met him for a drink.”

“And when was this?”

“The night before last.”

“And why didn’t you call me immediately?”

“I don’t think I was seeing the situation clearly; I reacted as a family member, and not as a citizen. I’m sorry for that.”

“Do you have any idea where he is now?”

“From our conversation I believe he might have moved into a hotel somewhere uptown.”

“I don’t know your geography there,” the sheriff said. “What do you mean by ‘uptown’?”

“Uptown from where I live. I live downtown.”

“That doesn’t help me a lot. Do you have an address?”

“No. He asked to stay at my place, but I declined to have him do that. He asked me to recommend a hotel, and I declined to do that, too. My impression was that he wanted to be uptown somewhere.”

“Perhaps near where Mr. Stone Barrington lives?”

“Perhaps; that name didn’t come up. He did say he had something to do in the city, though.”

“And what might that be?”

“He wouldn’t say.”

“Our theory of this case is that he shot Mrs. Barrington because he was jealous, a jilted lover. Apparently, Mr. Rutledge and Mrs. Barrington had some sort of relationship before she was married, while he was working on her house.”

“I see. I didn’t know anything about that relationship. Before the housewarming I hadn’t seen Tim since last summer.”

“Do you know how Mr. Rutledge traveled to New York?”

“No, I don’t.”

“He didn’t say anything about having a car?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“All right, Mr. Rutledge, thank you for your help in this matter. Will you please call me immediately if you see or hear from your cousin again? You might be saving a life.”

“Yes, I will.”

“And if you do speak to him, try to find out where he’s staying.”

“All right.” The sheriff hung up, and so did David.

Stone was at his desk when Dino called. “How you doing?” he asked.

“I’m okay, I guess.”

“I just got some news you need to hear.”

“Tell me.”

“The sheriff down in Virginia called the chief’s office and told him he’d had a tip that Tim Rutledge, the suspect, is in New York. I just got the e-mail.”

Stone sat up straight. “What else?”

“Nothing else. He may be staying in a hotel. That’s all the informant had.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Stone said.

“I think you should go armed for a while.”

“I think you’re right,” Stone said.

“What time does Peter get out of school?”

“Usually between three and five, depending on what he’s doing there.”

“You want me to send a car for him?” Dino asked.

“Thanks, Dino, I’d appreciate that.” He glanced at his watch; it was nearly four o’clock. “I’ll call him and let him know.” He gave Dino Peter’s cell number.

“Consider it done.”

“You’re a good friend.” They both hung up, and Stone called Peter’s cell and got voice mail. “Peter, it’s Dad. I’ve heard from the police that Tim Rutledge may be in New York, and I don’t want you on the street until that’s been dealt with. Dino is sending a police car to bring you home from school. They’ll call your cell when they’re outside. Don’t leave the building until then.” Stone hung up. He felt something he’d never felt before: worry about his child’s safety. He resisted the impulse to go to the school himself.

Joan came in with something for him to sign. “You look funny,” she said.

“Tim Rutledge is apparently in the city.”

“Jesus, I thought he’d be in Mexico, like you said.”

“I was wrong, apparently. Dino is sending a car to pick up Peter at school.”

“That’s good.”

Stone picked up the phone and called Mike Freeman at Strategic Services.

“Hi, Stone, how are you?”

“A little worried, Mike,” Stone said.

“What’s wrong?”

Stone explained. “I think I’d like someone armed to be with Peter for a few days.”

“Certainly. Do you want him picked up at school?”

“Dino’s sending a police car for him. Could you have someone here tomorrow morning at seven-thirty to drive him to school? He can use my car.”

“Of course. There’ll be two men, and they’ll be our best.”

“Thank you, Mike.”

“Did Sean Patrick call you about Arrington’s G-III?”

“Yes, he did. We sent him copies of everything we had on the airplane, and he’s sending someone down to Virginia to look at it and interview the crew.”

“That would be Milt Kaplan. I recommended him, and he’ll see the worth of the airplane immediately. If Sean turns out not to want it, we could lease it from you until it sells.”

“That’s a nice thought, but as a board member, I wouldn’t want you to spend all that money when you already have two airplanes.”

Mike laughed. “All right, I’ll take your advice.” They chatted for a moment, then said good-bye.

Joan buzzed him. “Peter’s on line two,” she said.

“Peter?”

“Yes, Dad. I got your message. There’s a police car outside right now.”

“Good. Get in it and come home.”

“Can I drop Hattie off on the way?”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

“I’ll be home in half an hour or so.”

Stone hung up feeling relieved.