Bel-Air dead

42

The following day, Saturday, Stone and Dino, with nothing else to do, drove out to Malibu for lunch. They found a nice little Italian restaurant in the shopping area and shared a bottle of wine.

After lunch they left the restaurant and began to wander among the neat rows of boutiques.

“Sighting at four o’clock,” Dino said.

Stone swiveled to four o’clock and his eyes came to rest upon Carolyn Blaine, window-shopping about thirty yards away. It was the first time he had seen her casually dressed, in shorts and a Polo shirt. He was about to approach her when another very attractive older woman got there first, and after a brief greeting they embraced in a way that got Stone’s attention.

“That,” Dino said, “was done the way it’s usually done with a man.”

“I noticed that, too,” Stone said.

The two women began walking among the shops, their hands occasionally touching in an affectionate way. At one moment, the older woman’s hand came in firm contact with Carolyn’s ass and remained there for a long moment, finishing with a squeeze.

“The plot thickens,” Dino said.

Hanging well back, the two continued to follow the women until they came to a parked Rolls-Royce, its engine idling. A driver in a suit leapt out and opened the rear door for them. Then, apparently having been instructed to go away, he did so.

Stone grabbed a tiny table at a little open-air bar and ordered them a beer. “This is very interesting,” he said.

Dino took his notebook from his pocket and wrote something down.

“You’re going to run the plate, aren’t you?” Stone asked.

“You bet your ass.”

“I wish I’d thought of that.”

“Have you noticed that the car moves a little now and then?” Dino asked.

“Yes, I noticed that. And the windows are too darkened to see through.”

“It must take quite a lot of action to get a Rolls to move around.”

Stone laughed. “Go ahead, run the plate.”

Dino called his office in New York, and in a minute or so he handed Stone his notebook with a name and address.

Stone looked at it. “Means nothing to me,” he said.

“San Francisco,” Dino said.

“I don’t know anybody in San Francisco,” Stone said. “Do you?”

“Nah, not a soul.”

They nursed their beers for a few more minutes, then suddenly the rear door of the Rolls opened and Carolyn got out, adjusting her clothing and hair. She called to the driver, who was standing nearby, and he went back to the car, got in, and drove away. Carolyn resumed wandering among the shops.

“I’ll be back in a minute or two,” Stone said. He got up and walked to where she was gazing into a shop window. “Good afternoon,” he said.

She turned, looking surprised. “Oh, hello, Stone. What brings you out here?”

“Lunch and some down time,” he replied.

“All ready for the stockholders’ meeting Tuesday morning?”

“I don’t really have any preparations to make,” Stone said. “I’ve just been enjoying my time in L.A.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Lying around, mostly. Had dinner last night with some friends from Santa Fe who are in town.” He caught just a tiny flicker of concern in her face. “Nice town, Santa Fe. Have you spent any time there?”

“Once, half a dozen years ago; a weekend with somebody I shouldn’t have gone there with.”

Stone laughed. “Yes, we’ve all had weekends like that, haven’t we?”

“Have you talked to Mrs. Calder about the offer on the Bel-Air property?”

“No, I haven’t received a revised offer that meets her requirements,” he said.

“Is this still about Centurion?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we’ll have that out of the way on Tuesday, one way or another.”

“One way or another,” Stone said. “If the Bel-Air deal should go through, would you be involved?”

“I would head up the project for Terry,” she said. “I think it would be a lot of fun, designing and building a new, top-of-the-line hotel.”

“I expect it would,” Stone said. “It would be a disappointment for you, wouldn’t it, if Terry got his hands onto the Centurion property.”

“Not necessarily,” she said. “Terry can be very persuasive.”

“I’m afraid his charms are lost on me,” Stone said. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve left Dino over there somewhere with a beer.”

“See you Tuesday,” she said.

Stone went back to the bar and sat down. “Something’s wrong,” he said.

“What do you mean, wrong?”

“She’s been nervous as a cat the last couple of times I’ve talked with her, and she constantly talked about how wired Terry Prince was, but now, suddenly, she’s perfectly calm, and apparently looking forward to the Centurion stockholders’ meeting on Tuesday.”

“Maybe,” Dino said, “having sex in the backseat of a Rolls-Royce has a calming effect.”

Stone sat, sipping his tepid beer, trying to think of something to do.