6 Stone Barrington Novels (80 page)

“You go ahead, Stone,” Thad said. “We'll be fine.”

“Is Paul dead?” Liz asked.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and Stone thought she looked very worried. “No,” he said, “but he took two or three bullets. An ambulance is on the way. Don't go out into the hall.” He left the room and closed the door behind him, then he started down the stairs. Where the hell was Dino? Stone had been sure he was right behind him when he entered the house.

He walked into the back garden and surveyed the damage. The members of the band had abandoned their bandstand, and a couple of instruments lay on the ground beside it. A large table used as a bar had been overturned, and the air smelled of spilled booze.

He saw Arrington and her date come from behind a huge banyan tree, where they had apparently been hiding. Then he saw Dolce.

S
HE LOOKED VERY BEAUTIFUL, HE THOUGHT. SHE WAS wearing a short, tight dress of dark green silk. Her hair, nails and makeup were perfectly done, and she was smiling slightly, showing the tips of her perfect, white teeth. For a moment, he thought she had an evening bag in her hand, but on further examination it turned out to be a small semiautomatic pistol with a short silencer affixed to it.
Where the hell did she get that?
he wondered.

She was not looking at Stone but at Arrington, and her smile became broader. Stone squeezed his left arm against his side, to be sure the pistol was still there.
I could shoot her right now, and this would all be over,
he thought. Instead, he managed the best smile he could, in the circumstances. “Hello, Dolce,” he said, trying to work some delight into his voice. He held out his arms and walked toward her.
I'll just hug her. Then I'll take away the gun,
he thought.

She turned toward him, and her face lit up with a burst of recognition. “Stone!” she said. “It's you!”

Then, to Stone's horror, she brought the pistol up before her and aimed it at him.

“I could shoot you, and this would all be over,” she said.

Where have I heard that before?
Stone wondered. “I'm glad to see you,” he said. “Don't shoot me.”

“Why not?” she said. “I don't want
her
to have you.” She nodded toward Arrington.

“I don't want him, Dolce!” Arrington cried.

Stone looked at Arrington. Her handsome escort was edging away from her toward the banyan tree.

“Of course you do, Arrington,” Dolce said. “You've always wanted him. You only married Vance because you thought I wanted
him
.”

“That's crazy, Dolce,” Arrington said, then realized her choice of words was poor. She pressed on, though. “I didn't even know you knew Vance, when we were married. Come to think of it, I didn't even know
you
.”

Stone took the opportunity to edge closer to Arrington, his arms still outstretched.

“That's a gorgeous dress,” Arrington said. “Where did you get it?”

Trust Arrington to bring up fashion at a time like this,
Stone thought.

“At a little place on Worth Avenue. The shopping is very good in this town,” Dolce replied conversationally.

Stone edged closer.

Without taking her eyes from Arrington, Dolce said, “Stone, if you come any closer, I'm going to have to make a decision.”

Stone stopped moving, but he was afraid to lower his arms.

“You really don't want Stone, Arrington?” Dolce asked, wrinkling her brow.

“I wouldn't have him on a silver platter,” Arrington said with conviction. “I'm with Barry, here.” She turned to introduce her escort and discovered that he had vanished. “He must have had to go to the powder room,” she explained.

Stone was beginning to wonder which of them was the crazier.

“Did you get the shoes here, too?” Arrington asked.

“Oh, yes,” Dolce replied. “At Ferragamo.”

What's going to happen when they run out of clothes to talk about?
Stone wondered.

“And those earrings are a knockout,” Arrington said.

“I got those at Verdura,” Dolce said. “It's down a little alley off Worth Avenue, and up a flight.”

“Wonderful shop,” Arrington said. “I know them from New York.”

“Dolce,” Stone said, “can we—”

“Shut up, Stone,” she replied. “Arrington and I are discussing shopping. I'll get to you in a minute.”

“I'm so sorry,” Stone said.

“Yes, you are, and we have to talk about that.” She turned back to Arrington. “I love your handbag.”

“Oh, thank you,” Arrington said. “I got it at Bergdorf's, at that little boutique just inside the Fifty-eighth Street door. I can't think of the name at the moment.”

Dolce pointed the pistol at her. “Think of it, or I'll shoot you.”

Arrington thought desperately. “Suarez!” she said, looking relieved. “That's it.” She held out the handbag. “Would you like to have mine? Please take it as a gift.”

“Why, that's very kind of you, Arrington,” Dolce said.

I've got to do something,
Stone thought, but he couldn't think what. If he rushed her, she'd shoot him, and then only Arrington would be left, and Dolce would shoot her, too. He remembered what Guido had said about Dolce's shooting skills.
Where the hell is fucking Guido?

Then Stone saw a movement behind Dolce. He dared not take his eyes from hers and look at it. Instead, he tried to identify it with his peripheral vision.

Dolce swung the pistol back to Stone. “I may as well get this over with, so Arrington and I can talk seriously about clothes,” she said, raising the pistol.

“But . . .” Stone started to say, then the pistol in Dolce's hand went off, with an evil
pfffft,
and he staggered backward. Almost simultaneously, the shape behind Dolce turned into a billowing sail, which fell over her head, and Dino, who had thrown a tablecloth over her, wrestled her to the ground.

Stone felt a searing pain in his left armpit and put his hand under his jacket. It came back covered in blood. Stone had always disliked the sight of his own blood.

“Will somebody give me a fucking hand?” Dino yelled.

Guido and his two friends materialized from behind a bush and went to Dino's aid. Or, that was the way it seemed at first. As Stone watched, the largest of the three men grabbed Dino by the collar and tossed him a few yards into a flower bed, as if he were an oddly shaped bowling ball. Guido picked up the shrouded Dolce, wrestled her gun away and threw her over a shoulder. Then he started toward the house, followed by his cohorts.

He nodded at Stone's bloody hand. “You oughta get that looked at,” he said to Stone as he passed.

“Thanks,” Stone said, and watched them walk through the house and out the front door. Painfully, Stone put the microphone to his lips. “Detail at the front of the house: Three men are coming out with a woman in a sack. Do not detain them. Repeat, do not detain.” Then he fainted.

S
TONE CAME TO IN THE BACKSEAT OF A CAR. HIS HEAD was in Dino's lap, and Dino was pressing something against his armpit.

“You awake?” Dino asked.

“Yes,” Stone murmured.

“You want to know what happened?”

“I think I know what happened,” Stone said.

Thad Shames spoke up from the driver's seat. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm not sure,” Stone said. “Why aren't you with Liz?”

“Liz left the house,” Thad said. “I came downstairs and went out into the garden to look for you, and she must have left the master suite then.”

Dino spoke up. “The cop at the door said she insisted on getting into the ambulance with Manning.”

“Are you sure I'm not still unconscious?” Stone asked, then he passed out again.

He came to again on a bed surrounded by curtains. Dino and Thad were standing beside the bed. Stone was not wearing a shirt anymore, there was a wad of gauze and tape in his armpit and his arm was in some sort of rubber sling, which seemed to be filled with ice. On a stand next to the bed, a plastic bag of blood dripped into a tube attached to Stone's other arm. He tried to sit up and started to speak.

Dino held a finger to his lips. He found a switch and the bed rose until Stone was in a sitting position. Dino pointed to the curtain and cupped a hand behind his ear.

Stone tried to focus. He could hear a woman's voice from behind the curtain.

“Don't you die on me, goddammit,” she was saying.

“Don't you leave me in this mess. We're going to get out of this together.”

Stone recognized the voice, and he looked at Thad, whose face was drawn and whiter than usual.

“I'm going to need some time to heal,” Paul Manning's voice rumbled, surprisingly strong.

“They're taking you to surgery in a minute,” Allison Manning said. “But I've got to talk to you first. Thad told me they know about Winston.”

“Do they know about you, or just me?” Manning asked.

“I don't know, but I can get Thad to tell me. Don't worry, I can deal with Thad. He'll believe whatever I tell him.”

Stone looked at Thad.
He looks worse than I do,
he thought.

“The money is already in the Caymans,” Manning said. “You know the account number. Wait until I've recovered; but before they move me to some jail ward, find a way to get me out of here. Charter a plane and bring me a gun.”

“All right,” Allison said. “I hear a gurney. They're coming for you.”

“Better get out of here and back to Shames.”

“I love you,” she said.

Thad stepped over to the curtain and drew it back. Allison spun around and looked at her husband and the other two men. It took her only a moment to recover. “Thad! Thank God you're here!”

“Hello, Liz,” he said. “Or, perhaps I should say, Allison.”

“Did you hear all that?” she asked. “Paul is crazy, you know. I was trying to find out what he did with your two million dollars.”

Dino left the cubicle.

“Were you?” Thad asked. “Well, I guess you found out, didn't you? It's in the Cayman Islands, and you know the account number.”

“Thad . . .”

Thad held up a hand. “Don't. You'll just embarrass us both.”

Dino returned with Dan Griggs and the Houston detective, Fritz Parker.

“Mrs., ah, Shames, I guess it is,” Griggs said. “You're going to have to come with me. This detective has some questions he'd like to ask you, and I have a few, myself.”

Allison looked at Thad. “You've got to help me,” she said.

“I don't see how I can,” Thad replied. Then he turned and walked away.

“Stone,” she said, “you've got to represent me. I need your help.”

“You don't need me, Allison,” Stone said. “You can afford the very best. Paul probably has a phone number in his pocket.”

“Please, please,” she begged.

“Goodbye, Allison,” Stone said. “I expect I'll see you in court.”

They led her away, then Griggs came back. “We took a nine-millimeter away from Manning,” he said, “but it looks like the security guard was shot with a smaller caliber. You have any thoughts on that?”

Stone thought about that for a moment, then he shook his head and closed his eyes.

“We didn't recover the slug.”

Good,
Stone thought.

“I understand there was some sort of scuffle in the garden after Manning was stopped. You know anything about that?”

Stone opened his eyes. “A drunken guest,” he said. Apparently Griggs thought he'd been shot by Manning. “She had to be removed.” He closed his eyes again and kept them closed until Griggs went away.

 

Stone was comfortable in a reclining seat on the G V. His arm was still numb, and he was still in a slight morphine haze.

Callie put a pillow behind his head. “Anything else I can do for you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, “but not right now. Could I have a telephone, please?”

“I'll get you one.”

Stone looked at his watch. Just past seven A.M. He had been taken to the airplane on a stretcher, but he had managed to walk up the airstair steps on his own. Callie had packed his clothes. They had been in the air for half an hour, and Dino was dozing across the aisle.

Callie brought him the phone. “After your call, you should get some sleep.”

“Have you got the phone number for the Breakers Hotel?” he asked.

She took the phone, dialed the number for him, handed the phone back and walked toward the front of the airplane.

“The Breakers,” an operator said.

“Please connect me with Mrs. Vance Calder,” Stone said.

“One moment.” The phone began ringing.

“Hello,” a sleepy voice said.

Stone thought for a second, then pressed the off button on the phone.

Dino stirred and turned toward Stone. “Who was that?” he asked.

“Good question,” Stone said.

“Why did you hang up?”

“Isn't that what you're supposed to do?”

“When?”

“When a man answers.”

I
WANT TO EXPRESS MY GRATITUDE TO MY EDITOR, DAVID Highfill, and my publisher, Phyllis Grann, for their continuing care and contributions to my work.

My agents, Morton Janklow and Anne Sibbald, and all the people at Janklow & Nesbit, continue to manage my career, always with excellent results, and they, as ever, have my gratitude.