Sex, Lies & Serious Money

23

Stone was riding shotgun in Ed Eagle’s car, as they turned off Tano Road onto Tano Norte. They were almost to Hayward’s front gate when he saw a car parked in a road opposite with its headlights off. “Ed, can you stop for a minute?”

“Sure,” Ed replied, braking.

“Do you have a flashlight in the car?”

“Glove compartment.”

Stone found a small SureFire light there; he got out of the car and approached the parked vehicle, switching on the flashlight. The bright beam revealed a man behind the wheel, looking startled. “Good evening,” Stone said, loudly enough to be heard.

The car started and sped past him, turning toward Tano Road and disappearing in a cloud of dust. Stone went back to the Eagles’ car and got in.

“What was that about?” Ed asked, continuing toward the gate.

“I’m not sure, but my best guess is that somebody from some newspaper or magazine has sniffed out Laurence Hayward in his new home.”

“Either that, or somebody is casing it for a burglary.”

Stone laughed. “Trust a criminal attorney to think of criminal intent.”

Ed parked the car; they rang the front bell, were admitted by Laurence and Theresa, and introductions were made.

“What a beautiful place,” Gala said.

“I’m afraid we can’t take any credit for that,” Theresa replied. “Only the flowers were added by us.”

“Sharon Woods always does a beautiful job. Have you met her yet?”

“She’s dropping by tomorrow.”

They went into the living room, and a waiter took their drink orders. Laurence sat down next to Stone. “Herb Fisher called, and our closing is set for next week.”

“You certainly found a great place. How much land is there?”

“About twelve acres — enough to keep the neighbors at bay.”

Stone lowered his voice. “Someone is already paying attention to you.”

“How do you mean?”

“There was a car parked across the road from the house as we drove in, with a man behind the wheel, lights off. I approached him, and he started up and accelerated in a hurry.”

“Have they found me already?”

“Ed suspects a more criminal intent, maybe a burglary. I’d be careful while you’re here.”

“What are the gun laws like in New Mexico?”

“Lenient, I would guess. We’re in the West, after all.”

“Perhaps I’d better do some shopping.”

“Laurence, have you any experience with firearms?”

“Quite a lot with shotguns and birds.”

“If you buy a handgun, you’re putting yourself and your fortune at risk.”

“How’s that?”

“In the past I’ve known two men who shot intruders in their homes, one of them fatally.”

“Didn’t they have that right?”

“They did, legally, but the civil lawsuits went on for years. One had to sell his house to pay the legal fees and settlement costs. The other, stuck with the huge medical bills of the intruder, has paid out nearly a million dollars, only some of it covered by his household insurance.”

“I don’t have any insurance.”

“Get some liability, at least twenty million. It’s fairly cheap. When complainants spot somebody wealthy, you become a target, no matter how right you are. I can arrange the insurance, if you like.”

“Please.”

“On the New York apartment and the Palm Beach house, as well?”

“Yes.”

“But don’t buy a gun,” Stone said emphatically.

“If that’s your best advice.”

“It is.”

They were called to dinner, and Stone was seated between Susannah and Theresa, so he and Laurence didn’t pursue their conversation.

“Laurence, I see we both have had the attention of People magazine this week,” Susannah said.

“Of course, you’re Susannah Wilde. Your new picture looks interesting.”

“The difference between us is that I pursued the publicity, but you didn’t.”

“Tell me, does the reach of these magazines and tabloids extend to a place as remote as Santa Fe?”

“It doesn’t matter where you are,” Susannah replied. “Everybody with a cell phone camera is a stringer.”

“What’s a stringer?”

“A part-time reporter.”

“Ah.”

“I should think you’d be acquainted with that sort of journalism, coming from a place where tabloids have such a huge circulation.”

“Certainly that’s true of England, but somehow I’ve never come to their attention until now. Any advice?”

“Be courteously rude to them when they approach, and tell them nothing. People in my business have to be polite to them, because the public do read those papers — they’re available at every supermarket checkout. But you’re a private citizen, and if you communicate it to them that you expect to be treated as such, they’ll eventually get the idea. Above all, don’t smash any cameras or throw any punches. They love that sort of thing, and you’ll end up in court, as so many celebrities have.”

“And make no mistake about it,” Ed said, “you are now, officially, a celebrity.”

“That’s an alarming idea. I had thought Santa Fe would be out of that particular loop.”

“Alaska might be out of that loop, but hardly anywhere else in the United States or Europe,” Ed replied. “Just ignore them and be uncommunicative, as best you can.”

“Thank you, I’m grateful for the advice.” He turned to Theresa. “See what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

“I’m not complaining,” she said.

“Did you have any problems in Los Angeles?” Stone asked.

“We were spotted getting out of an Arrington Bentley at Spago, but we escaped out the back way after lunch. Our driver and the hotel staff seemed to handle it all very well, and we didn’t have any problems on departure. Mind you, we left the hotel before dawn and took off very early. And we didn’t have any problems in Napa.”

“Perhaps they haven’t figured out yet that you have an airplane, so they didn’t cover Santa Monica or Burbank.”

“I hope they never figure it out,” Laurence said.