Hot Mahogany

13

Stone woke the following morning with a warm girl heating his rib cage. He was ravenously hungry, and it occurred to him that they, in their enthusiasm, had never gotten around to dinner.

“I’m not awake,” Holly whispered.

“Do you want breakfast?”

“Maybe.”

Stone put on some shorts, went downstairs, grilled bacon and scrambled eggs. When he was almost done he whistled as loudly as he could, which was very loud.

A minute and a half later Holly padded down the stairs and walked into the kitchen, very naked.

“Good morning,” he said. “Did you forget something?”

She stared at him blankly. “What?”

“Never mind, have a seat. I’m not sure I have a big enough napkin for you, though.”

Holly sat down and began eating greedily. “Why am I so hungry?”

“Because we skipped dinner last night.”

“Why did…? Oh.”

“Yes, oh. It was more fun than dinner, anyway.”

“Well, you can take me out to dinner tonight.”

“If I’m still here tonight.”

“Lance promised me two nights with you to get me to come up here.”

“Lance has given me two jobs, and I might not be able to get both of them done if I’m sleeping with you.”

“I’m a job?”

“Only in a manner of speaking. He used your presence to lure me up here and check on Barton.”

“What’s Barton like?”

“A ringer for Lance but older. It’s like they’re twins who were born a few years apart.”

“But is he like Lance?”

“Nobody is like Lance. Barton is more talkative, at least with me. He’ll like you, though, especially if you go dressed like that.”

She giggled.

“Lance says he likes the ladies.”

“He didn’t mention that to me.”

They finished breakfast, then Holly left and returned with her laptop. “Give me the names of the two men from Cantor’s squad who interested you.”

Stone picked up the files. “Abner Luke Kramer and Charles Larry Crow.” He gave her their service numbers.

She went to the V.A. website and through a few pages, typing rapidly. “Here we go,” she said. “Private Kramer spent four years at NYU on the GI bill, got a degree in business administration, then went to Wharton for an MBA. Corporal Crow was treated for a couple of months at a V.A. hospital on Long Island, then got himself a V.A. mortgage.”

“Any addresses?”

“One for each: Kramer, on West Tenth Street, in Manhattan; Crow, in the Bronx.”

Stone wrote down both addresses and phone numbers.

“You going to call?”

“Might be better if I just show up and surprise them.”

Holly continued typing. “Google knows about Kramer,” she said. “He was an executive vice president at Goldman Sachs in New York until four years ago, but he left to start his own company, A. L. Kramer, which has done very well, apparently. Here’s a picture.” She turned the laptop so he could see it.

“Distinguished looking,” Stone said. “What about Crow?”

Holly tapped more keys. “He started a real estate business, buying dilapidated town houses and reselling them. That’s it.”

“Well, it’s a start, I guess. Want to go meet Barton Cabot?”

“Sure, but I need a shower.”

“Me, too.”

They showered together and made the most of it.

The touch of early autumn was in the trees along the shore of Lake Waramaug.

“This is beautiful,” Holly said.

“Hardly anyplace is more beautiful than Connecticut in the fall. It’ll be a little while longer before it’s in its glory.”

“Maybe I’ll stick around for it,” she said.

“How’s the work with Lance going?”

“I wish I could tell you the details; the information I have in my head these days is mind-boggling.”

“What about working with Lance?”

“I’m not the politician Lance is, but it’s very interesting to watch him operate. He misses nothing and uses everything to his advantage. He’s already cultivating the representatives and senators on the House and Senate intelligence committees. I’ve no doubt that he’ll succeed Kate Rule Lee when she goes.”

“He’s pretty young for that job.”

“He’s pretty young for the job he has now,” Holly pointed out.

They pulled into Barton’s driveway, drove out onto the little peninsula and stopped at the house. Floodlights under the eaves suddenly came on.

“Motion detectors,” Stone said. “Those lights didn’t come on the last time I was here.”

Barton stuck his head out the kitchen door, then came outside, his right hand behind his back.

“You think he’s going to shoot us?” Holly asked.

Stone stepped out of the car and raised a hand in greeting. “Remember me?” he asked.

“Of course, I remember you,” Barton said. “You think I’m an amnesiac?”

Stone laughed. “I want you to meet Holly Barker,” he said.

Holly got out of the car. “How do you do?”

“Well, hello, Holly Barker,” Barton replied. He moved his right hand behind his back, then brought it out to shake her hand. He was smiling. “Why don’t you two come in for some coffee?”

They followed him into the kitchen, where a housekeeper was at work, then into the study, and by the time they arrived there, Stone noticed that the pistol was no longer tucked into Barton’s belt behind his back. It somehow had disappeared on the way in.

The housekeeper came into the study bearing a tray that held coffee and cookies. She set it on the coffee table before the fireplace and left.

Barton poured for them. “So, Holly Barker, are you a Connecticut girl?”

“Nope, army brat, but I live in Virginia these days.”

“What brings you up here?”

“A little vacation. Stone offered me his house.”

Barton was about to reply when a tiny electronic beeping began. “Excuse me,” he said, moving quickly away from the coffee and toward a door. On his way he reached into a drawer and came out with a semiautomatic pistol. He closed the door behind him.

“What should we do?” Holly asked.

“He didn’t ask for help,” Stone replied.