6 Stone Barrington Novels (22 page)

“Two before dinner,” Dino said.

“He's entitled,” Mary Ann pointed out.

They chatted in a desultory manner until dinner arrived, then ate, mostly in silence.

“Mary Ann,” Stone said, when the dishes had been taken away, “your father came to see me this afternoon.”

“He did?” she asked, surprised. “Where?”

“At my house.”

“That's interesting,” she said. “He doesn't do much calling on people. What did he want?”

“To know my intentions toward Arrington and Dolce.”

“Is that all? What did you tell him?”

“That I don't know what my intentions are toward Arrington, but that Dolce and I are not getting married.”

“That wasn't what he wanted to hear, I'm sure.”

“I know, but I had to be honest with him.”

“That's always the best policy with Papa.”

“When he left, he said something that scared me a little.”

Dino spoke up. “That's what he does best.”

“What did he say?” Mary Ann asked.

“He said Dolce is ill, and that she might be dangerous.”

“Oh,” Mary Ann said quietly.

“What did he mean by that?”

Mary Ann didn't seem to be able to look at him.

“I think Stone needs to know, honey,” Dino said. “Answer his question.”

Mary Ann sighed. “When Dolce doesn't get what she wants, she . . . reacts badly.”

“Now,
there's
news,” Dino snorted.

“Exactly
how
does she react badly?” Stone asked.

“She, ah, breaks things,” Mary Ann said slowly. “People, too.”

“Go on.”

“When she was, I guess, six, Papa gave her a puppy. She tried to train it, but it wouldn't do what she told it to. It was like she expected it to understand complete sentences, you know? Well, she . . . I don't want to say what she did.”

“She broke the puppy?” Dino asked.

“Sort of,” Mary Ann replied. Her face made it clear she wasn't going to say any more.

“I think she's been stalking me,” Stone said.

“What?”
Mary Ann said.

“She's shown up in a couple of places where I was. Unexpectedly, you might say. She registered at the Bel-Air as Mrs. Stone Barrington. She was on my flight home last night.”

“Oh, shit,” Dino breathed.

“I thought about trying to talk to her again, but I don't even want to be in the same room with her.”

“That's a good policy,” Dino said.

“I don't know what to do,” Stone admitted.

“I'd watch my back, if I were you,” Dino said. “Remember what happened to the husband . . .”

“Oh, shut up, Dino,” Mary Ann spat. “She's my sister; don't talk that way about her.”

“I'm sorry, hon, but Stone's in a jam, here, and we've got to help him figure this out.”

“Well, you're not helping by . . . what you're saying.”

“Are you carrying?” Dino asked.

“Dino!” his wife nearly shouted.

“It wouldn't surprise me if Dolce is,” Dino continued, ignoring her.

“No, I'm not,” Stone said. “I don't think it's come to that.”

“Listen, Stone,” Dino said. “At the point when it comes to that, it's going to be too late to go home and get a piece.”

Their waiter stepped up with a dessert tray.

“Nothing for me,” Stone said.

“I'll have the cheesecake,” Dino said.

“Nothing for him,” Mary Ann said, pointing a thumb at her husband. “Especially not the cheesecake.”

Dino sighed.

“Nothing for anybody,” Mary Ann said to the waiter.

They got a check, and declined the offer of an after-dinner drink from Elaine. Dino grabbed the check and signed it, before Stone could react.

“That's completely out of character, Dino,” Stone said, chuckling.

“Who knows how many more opportunities I'll have,” Dino replied, getting an elbow in the ribs from Mary Ann for his trouble.

They made their farewells to Elaine and started out of the restaurant. As they shuffled toward the door, Stone felt Dino slip something fairly heavy into his coat pocket.

“Don't leave home without it,” Dino whispered.

 

 

 

S
TONE REACHED INTO HIS COAT POCKET, TOOK OUT THE pistol, and placed it on the bedside table. It was a little .32 automatic, not a service weapon, but the kind of small gun a cop might keep in an ankle holster, as a backup.

He undressed, got into bed, and tried to watch the late news, but finally turned it off. He was still groggy from the sleep upset of taking the red-eye, and the conversation at dinner had depressed him.

He drifted off immediately and fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed, and something was out of place in his dream—a high-pitched squeal, as if from a great distance. Then the squeal stopped.

Stone sat straight up in bed, wide awake. The squeal was the sound the security system made to warn that it was about to go off; it stopped only when the proper four-digit code was entered, and it had stopped. Then he remembered that Dolce knew the code.

He got out of bed as silently as he could and rearranged the pillows under the duvet, to give the impression he was still in bed, then he picked up Dino's pistol, tiptoed to his dressing room, and stood just inside the door. There was enough light coming through the windows to let him see the bed.

He heard the light footsteps on the stairs, which were now bare of the carpet runner. They approached slowly, quietly, until they reached the bedroom, where they stopped. She was letting her eyes become accustomed to the nearly dark room. Then she began to move forward again, and she came into Stone's view.

She was wearing a black raincoat with the hood up, so her face was still in darkness, and Stone thought she looked like the angel of death; she carried a short, thick club in her right hand. She reached the bed and stopped, then, holding the club at her side, she reached out with her left hand and began to pull back the covers.

“Freeze!” Stone said. “There's a gun pointed at your head.”

She turned slowly to face him, but the shadow of the hood still obscured her face.

“Drop what's in your hand,” he said.

She released the club, and it fell to the bare wood floor with a soft thud.

“Now, reach behind you and turn on the lamp, and keep your hands where I can see them.”

She turned away and switched on the lamp, then turned back toward him, brushing off the hood. Instead of the black, Sicilian coif Stone had expected, honey-colored hair fell around her shoulders.

“Why are you pointing a gun at me, Stone?” she asked.

Stone's mouth fell open. “Arrington! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Could you point the gun somewhere else before we continue this conversation?”

Stone put the pistol on the dressing room chest of drawers and turned back to her.

She looked down, amused. “You're still pointing something at me,” she said, unbuckling her belt and shucking off the raincoat. She was wearing black slacks and a soft, gray cashmere sweater. At her feet, on the floor, was the folding umbrella she had dropped.

Stone grabbed a cotton robe from the dressing room and slipped into it.

“Aw,” she said, disappointed, “I liked you as you were. Don't I get a kiss?”

Stone crossed the room and gave her a small kiss, then held her at arm's length. “I'll ask you again: What the hell are you doing here?”

“Aren't you glad to see me?”

“Of course not! You've jumped bail, for God's sake, don't you understand that? The judge confined you to your house!”

“Don't worry—he'll never miss me.”

“Arrington, let me explain this to you. As of this moment, you've forfeited two million dollars in bail.”

“It's worth it to see you,” she said. “I missed you.”

“You could be arrested at any moment, and if you are, you won't get bail again; you'll have to stay in jail until the trial.”

“Nobody's going to arrest me,” she said. “Nobody knows I'm out of the house, except Manolo and Isabel, and certainly nobody knows I'm in New York. Manolo has instructions to tell anyone who calls that I'm not feeling well, and to take a message. I can return any calls from here.”

Stone sat down on the edge of the bed and put his face in his hands. “I'm an officer of the court,” he moaned. “I'm supposed to call the police or arrest you myself.”

“Oooooo, arrest me,” she purred.

Stone heard the sound of a zipper and looked up. She was stepping out of her slacks, and she had already shucked off the sweater, leaving only her panties.

She looked around, hands on her hips. “Now where are those pesky handcuffs? You must have some around here somewhere, being an ex-cop, and all.”

Stone put his face back in his hands, and a moment later he felt her slip into the bed. Her fingernails moved down his back, and he started to get up, but she grabbed the belt of his robe and pulled him back onto the bed.

“I know Marc Blumberg said we couldn't be alone together in my house, but now we're alone together in
your
house, aren't we? So we're playing by the rules.” She reached around him and tugged the belt loose, then pulled the robe off his shoulders. She dug her fingers into his hair, pulled him back onto the bed, and ran a fingernail along his penis, which responded with a jerk. “I
knew
you'd be glad to see me!” she said, then she pulled his face to hers and kissed him softly.

“This wasn't supposed to happen,” Stone said, when he could free his lips for a moment.

She pulled his body toward hers. “Well, if I'm going to be arrested and carted off to jail, it seems only fair that I should have a last meal.” She bent over him and kissed the tip of his penis. “I believe I'm entitled to have anything I want to eat, isn't that the tradition?” Then she began to concentrate on her repast.

Stone stood it for as long as he could, which was a little while; then he pulled her up beside him. She curled a leg over his body, opening herself to him. He slid inside her and, lying face-to-face, they began to make love, slowly.

“It's been way, way too long,” Arrington said, moving with him and kissing his face.

“You're right,” Stone breathed, admitting it as much to himself as to her.

“Tell me you've missed me.”

“I've missed you.”

“Tell me you've missed
this
.”

“I can't tell you how much I've missed this,” he moaned. “There are no words.”

“Then
show
me,” she said.

And he did.

 

 

 

S
TONE LAY, NAKED, ON HIS BACK, DRAINED AND WEIRDLY happy, for a lawyer whose client seemed to be trying to go to jail. It was a little after ten A.M., and they had made love twice since sunup. He heard the shower go on in his bathroom and the sound of the glass door closing. He wanted to enjoy the moment, but he couldn't; he was faced with the problem of how to get Arrington back into the Los Angeles jurisdiction without getting her arrested and himself into very deep trouble.

A moment later, she came back, wearing his robe and rubbing her wet hair with a towel. “Good morning!” she said, as happy as if she were a free woman.

“Good morning.” He managed a smile.

She sat down on the bed, took his wilted penis in her hand, and kissed it. “Aw,” she said. “Did it die?”

“For the moment,” he admitted. “Tell me, how did you get here? Exactly, I mean; I want a blow-by-blow account.”

“Well, let's see: First I called the airline and made a reservation, then I put a few things into that little bag over there,” she said, pointing to the top of the stairs, where she had left it, “then I left a note for Manolo, got into my car, left the house by the utility gate, which you have come to know and love, and I drove to the airport. I parked the car, walked into the terminal, gave the young lady at the ticket counter my credit card—the one that's still in my maiden name—and she gave me a ticket. Then I got on the plane, and when I arrived in New York, I took a cab here. Did I leave out anything?”

“Yes; your picture has been all over the L.A. and New York papers and
People
magazine, for Christ's sake; why didn't anyone recognize you?”

“I wore a disguise,” she said. She went to her bag, unzipped it, and took out a silk Hermes scarf and a pair of dark glasses; she wrapped the scarf tightly around her head and put on the shades. “With this and no makeup, my own mother wouldn't recognize me.”

“Why so few clothes?” he asked.

“I have a wardrobe in our apartment at the Carlyle,” she said. “I was going to send you up there to get me a few things. I thought it would be foolish to dally in baggage claim, so I traveled light.”

Stone sat up and put his feet on the floor. “Well, you were certainly right not to do anything foolish.”

“Was that sarcasm I heard?”

“Irony.”

“Oh. Shall I fix you some breakfast?”

“Oh, no; Helene will be downstairs by now; she can fix it. I don't want
anyone
to see you.”

“Then I shall be served in bed,” she said, sitting cross-legged among the pillows.

The phone rang, and Stone picked it up. “Hello?”