Bel-Air dead

32

Stone called Carolyn Blaine. “Are you available for lunch?”

“I don’t think we should be seen in public,” she said.

“Then come here.”

“One o’clock? I want to be sure Terry has left the office before I do.”

“That will be fine.”

Stone hung up.

“What do you want with that dame?” Dino asked.

“To get to Terry Prince; she’ll know how best to do it.”

Stone received Carolyn by the pool, and Manolo offered them a lobster salad for lunch.

“I hear Jim Long is in and out of consciousness,” she said. “What do you hear?”

“I haven’t heard,” Stone replied. “I’ll hear when there’s a change.”

“What did you think of your lunch with Terry?” she asked.

“He confirmed all my worst suspicions about him.”

“Which are?”

“Do I have to tell you?”

“I’m reluctant to say anything to you that might be quoted later.”

“Am I the only attorney from whom you’ve sought advice?”

“Yes, you are, but I’m very nervous. If your worst suspicions of Terry are valid, then it’s very dangerous for me to talk to you, let alone see you.”

“I trust you’ve erased me from your cell phone.”

“I have,” she said, “and I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same with your phone.”

“Are you worried that Terry might somehow gain access to my phone?”

“You never know,” she said, digging into her salad.

Stone poured them a glass of Sauvignon blanc. “Let me ask your advice,” he said. “Suppose you were in opposition to Terry; how would you vex him?”

“Vex him? That’s rather an archaic form, isn’t it?”

“How would you get under his skin? Upset him?”

“I’d outbid him for something he wanted.”

“That’s too expensive a way to vex him.”

“Then I’d find something else he wanted.”

Stone smiled. “That’s a nice thought.”

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Maybe it’s time to let him know what you know about this property.”

“All I know is that there’s some acreage.”

“There are eighteen acres,” Stone replied. “Arrington recently took up her option on two adjoining plots.”

“Eighteen of the most expensive residential acres in the United States? That might interest Terry,” she said, “but I don’t think he would enjoy subdividing it and selling the lots.”

“How about living in this house? Or building his own?”

“He’s well-stocked with houses,” Carolyn said. “He has five, scattered here and there, and two of them are in Beverly Hills and Malibu.”

“How about creating his own Bel-Air hotel on the property of America’s all-time biggest movie star?”

She put down her fork. “Now that would turn his head.”

“Would it turn his head away from the Centurion deal?”

“He can afford to do both.”

“But he can’t do both,” Stone said. “If he wants this property, he’d have to end his attempted takeover of Centurion and agree never to try again.”

Carolyn took a sip of her wine and looked thoughtful. “I think you’ve got it,” she said. “The one thing in Los Angeles, maybe in the world, that he would most like to have. He was very, very upset when his offer for the Bel-Air Hotel was rejected.”

“I suppose I could call and offer him the property,” Stone said, “but it might work better if you somehow learned of its availability-not through me-and let him know. I’m sure you could collect a very nice commission on that sale, especially since it wouldn’t involve a broker.”

Carolyn had stopped eating and drinking; she was just staring into the middle distance. “My God!” she said finally. “How would I have learned about it, except through you?”

“Arrington took up the option on the adjoining acreage just a few days ago,” Stone said. “Transactions of that sort are part of the public record, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are,” Carolyn said. “And I have a contact in that city office who could very well have let me know about this one.”

“Well,” Stone said. “There you are.”

Carolyn stood up, dropping her napkin on the patio. “I have to go,” she said, then practically ran from the house.

“I think that worked,” Stone said aloud to himself.