Bel-Air dead

13

Stone called Mike Freeman at Strategic Services. “Good morning, Mike.”

“And to you, Stone.”

“I would like to retain Strategic Services on the account of Woodman amp; Weld.”

“Of course,” Mike said. “How can we help?”

“The firm has a client who is contemplating entering into a large transaction involving the purchase of her shares in a movie studio by a man named Terrence Prince, of Los Angeles, who wants to build a hotel and an office/residential development on the studio’s land.”

“I understand. We used to provide personal security to Mr. Prince, before he got so rich he hired his own people.”

“Good, because I want to know everything about him, where his money comes from and who else’s money he’s playing with.”

“We can investigate and supply that information,” Mike said. “Our file on him is by now out of date, but I can tell you that the origins of his wealth are shady.”

“Is this about the brother who ran the drug ring in the Amazonian jungle?”

“It is. His brother is said to have backed him to the tune of a hundred million dollars, perhaps as much as two hundred million in cash laundered through a dozen banks in the Caribbean and the Far East. When Terry’s brother was killed in the big raid by the Colombian army, the debt evaporated, as did any influence from the brother, so for intents and purposes, he has been clean since that time.”

“How very convenient,” Stone said. “You think Terry ratted out his brother?”

“It’s a possibility; we’ll look into that, too, if you like. What sort of time frame are we talking about?”

“Very short,” Stone said, “no more than a few days. This deal has been brewing for several weeks, but I only recently became involved, after that phone call I took at Elaine’s.”

“We’re on it,” Mike said. “Anything else?”

“Yes. There are a couple of people who work for Prince I’d like profiles on, too: one is his driver, name unknown, white male, thirtyish, shaved head, bulky build; the other is his executive assistant, Carolyn Blaine, thirty-fiveish, five ten, a hundred and thirty pounds, born New York City, educated at Miss Porter’s School, Mount Holyoke, and Wharton for an MBA, divorced last year.”

“What are you looking for?”

“With the driver, a criminal record and any violent activity in his past; with the assistant, just whatever you can find.”

“I’ll get back to you, Stone, on the cell?”

“Yes, I’m still in L.A. and will be for at least a week.”

Mike hung up, and so did Stone.

Dino came out of the guesthouse. “Anything you need me for?”

“No, I’ve set some things in motion, so I’m pretty much just waiting to hear from people.”

“Mind if I take the car, then? I’d like to do some sightseeing.”

Stone tossed him the keys. “Keep it as long as you like; if I have to go out, I’ll take Vance Calder’s Bentley.”

“Have a nice day,” Dino said, then walked toward the front of the house.

Stone relaxed in the sun and was soon asleep. Then he was being lightly shaken by Manolo. Stone opened his eyes. “What is it, Manolo ?”

“Mr. Stone, your secretary has been trying to reach you on your cell phone but got no answer. She’s on the house line.”

“Thank you, Manolo,” Stone said, and reached for the phone on the table next to his chaise. “Hello?”

“It’s Joan. You were asleep by the pool, weren’t you?”

“I’ve had a busy morning,” Stone said. “Lots happening.”

“Lots happening here, too. Somebody broke into the offices last night.”

Stone sat up. “A burglar?”

“I don’t think so; it was too subtle. I called Bob Cantor; he’s here now and wants to speak to you.” Bob Cantor was a retired cop who often did technical work for Stone.

“Put him on,” Stone said. He heard a click. “Bob?”

“Yeah, Stone; somebody gave your place a good going over last night.”

“Anything missing?”

“A lot of information, I suspect. It was a real pro job. They even got into Joan’s safe and yours, too.”

“You know, Bob, I’m going to have to hire somebody to get in there and install a top-notch security system,” he said, archly. Bob had installed his current system.

“You’ve already got a top-notch system, Stone, or we wouldn’t know how far these people got. As it was, if you’d been here, you’d have gotten half a dozen alarms on your phone system, but since neither you nor Joan was in the house, and since you wouldn’t let me install a police alert, it didn’t matter what they set off.”

“All right, all right, Bob. You’re right, it’s my fault.”

“As long as I’m here I want to update some things about the system, and I want you to spring for the high-def cameras, too. That way, if they come back, I’ll have a few surprises for them.”

“Good idea, go ahead.”

Joan came back on the phone. “Any idea who’s behind this?” she asked.

“Yes, I have an idea; it’s this guy Prince. It’s funny, but I’ve just put Strategic Services onto him, though I didn’t tell them to break into his offices.”

“That was sweet of you.”

“If there’s nothing missing, then there’s no harm done,” Stone said. “Just relax and let Bob do his work; he’s going to beef up the system and install some cameras, so don’t start running around the office naked, unless you want me to have you on tape.”

“I’ll try and restrain myself,” she said. “Bye-bye.”

Stone hung up, and his cell phone vibrated on the table. “Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Rick Barron. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner; Glenna and I have been at our place in Santa Barbara for a couple of days.”

“Good morning, Rick. I have some news on the death of Jennifer Harris.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry to tell you she was murdered, Rick.”

“My God! How?”

“Ice pick into the brain from the back of the neck, above the hairline. It was a professional job; the killer took the trouble to seal the wound with spirit gum, so the ME wouldn’t notice it, but Sergeant Rivera had already alerted him to be thorough.”

“I’m having trouble believing this,” Rick said.

“I think it’s important that you find out what her will says with regard to her Centurion stock,” Stone said. “Can you do that?”

“I know her lawyer,” Rick replied. “He might tell me.”

“Will you let me know what he says?”

“I will, Stone; I’ll call him now.” Rick hung up.

Stone thought about what was happening. He wasn’t sleepy anymore.