Sex, Lies & Serious Money

11

Stone Barrington picked up the phone and called Laurence Hayward. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Laurence said. “What time is it?”

“Nearly eleven. Did you sleep in?”

“I guess I did.”

“I just got off the phone with Cessna. You are the proud contractor of two jet airplanes, one to be delivered the day you finish your training, the other in eight and a half months.” He read the terms.

“That’s wonderful,” Laurence said, sounding fully awake now.

“They’re e-mailing me the contracts for both airplanes. Why don’t you stop by late this afternoon and sign them.”

“Five o’clock?”

“Perfect. Did you confirm your training dates?”

“I did. I fly out tomorrow in a Cessna jet and start at eight AM the following day.”

“I spoke to Pat Frank. Your new mentor will meet you in Wichita on graduation day, having picked up the airplane at the factory that morning. He’ll also have spent the three previous days doing acceptance flights, which is when he looks for defects and gets them corrected.”

“Great. I’m going to do some flying with him after that, to put some hours in my logbook.”

“Good idea. How’s the apartment?”

“Looks like I’ve always lived here.”

“Good. See you this afternoon.”

“Certainly.” They hung up.

Theresa woke up late and went into the kitchen to make her breakfast. She opened the tea canister and found more than tea: an IOU from Butch for $200 and nothing else. She stormed into his room and found the bed unslept in and what clothes he owned, gone. She decided it was worth the $200 to get rid of him. She sat down and called a neighborhood locksmith and arranged to have her front door lock changed. He promised to come the following day.

Later, as she was washing her breakfast dishes, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Theresa, it’s Carl Winger, in Personnel.”

“Good morning, Carl.”

“I thought you’d like to know, I just hired your brother, Harold — or Butch, as he prefers to be known.”

“My goodness.” She wanted to tell Carl to keep Butch away from cash registers.

“We’re going to give him a few weeks of switching departments, starting in shoes, and then, if I’m any judge of material, he’ll be ready to work in any department at any store. He’s on his way now to the shoe shop at the Seventy-second Street store.”

“Well, I’m glad it worked out, Carl.”

“Thank you for sending us such a good candidate.”

“You’re welcome.” She hung up feeling guilty. Butch was going to screw this up; she just knew it, and it would be her fault.

Laurence knocked on Stone’s office door at five sharp. “Is this the airplane store?”

“You’re in the right place. By the way, did you bring your checkbook?”

“Always in my pocket.”

Stone sat him down and placed two stacks of documents before him. “You have a pen?”

Laurence held up his silver Montblanc. “Courtesy of Woodman & Weld.”

“Then start signing. Joan has marked the places with green tabs.”

Laurence finished the first stack and handed them to Stone for checking, then started on the second stack. Stone gave the lot to Joan to make copies and pack for FedExing. “Now, two checks,” Stone said, “one for the entire price of the CJ 3 Plus, and another for the deposit on the Latitude. You’ll make progressive payments on that.”

Laurence wrote and signed the checks. “Whew,” he said, mopping his brow, “I think I now own everything I want to own.”

“Trust me, you’ll think of something else.”

“I expect so, but nothing with that many zeros attached.”

“Where are you planning to fly with your mentor?”

“Well, first, I’ll pick up my girl at Teterboro, then maybe to San Francisco, L.A., and other points west.”

“I keep a house at the Arrington Hotel in L.A.,” Stone said. “You’re welcome to the use of it while you’re out there. You could spend a few days in L.A. and make training flights every day, flying the local instrument approaches.”

“Great idea!”

“Your girl will like the house and the shopping on Rodeo Drive.”

“I expect she will.”

“Call me when you get back,” Stone said.

Butch let himself into his sister’s apartment. “Sis?” he yelled. “I forgot something.” No answer so he beckoned Curly to follow him in. He went to the liquor cabinet and retrieved an unopened bottle of the Macallan 12 whiskey. “Okay, let’s make tracks.” As he walked past the coffee table he saw a familiar key lying there and picked it up.

“What’s that for?” Curly asked.

“It’s the key to our mark’s apartment,” Butch said. “Pity we don’t have time to get it copied.”

“You can’t get a locksmith to copy a hotel key,” Curly said. “I know because I used to work for one. But I know how to duplicate it. Has your sis got any candles?”

They went into the kitchen and found one.

“First,” Curly said, “we melt the candle, then I can make an impression of the key in the warm wax and make the copy myself with a couple of tools available in any hardware store.”

Butch found a saucepan, and soon they were able to pour the melted wax into an empty kitchen matchbox. They waited a while for the wax to cool a bit, then Curly pressed each side of the key and the tip into the wax and closed the matchbox. “Now,” he said, “let’s find a hardware store.”

“There’s one called Gracious Homes over on Third Avenue,” Butch said.

“Pretty fancy name for a hardware store.”

“Pretty fancy neighborhood,” Butch replied. “Let’s get out of here before Sis gets home.” He carefully replaced the key on the coffee table, cleaned up the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of scotch, and they departed the premises. They hoofed it over to Third Avenue and found Gracious Homes. Curly located two files and a small vise, then he saw the key department. A clerk waited on them, and Curly selected two blank keys from their collection. “I think that’ll do it,” he said.

“Is this going to work?” Butch asked.

“You bet your sweet ass,” Curly replied. “All we have to do is find out when our mark won’t be there.”