6 Stone Barrington Novels (70 page)

“Sure. I'll call for a pickup now.” She picked up a phone.

“I have to call Thad and tell him,” Liz said, running for the phone in the saloon.

Stone sat down beside Dino.

“Is this all over, Stone?”

“I hope so,” Stone replied.

“But you're not sure?”

“It's not going to be over until it's over.” He thought about that for a moment. “And maybe not even then.”

“What's the problem?”

“The problem is Manning. He's still just as angry and, apparently, as nuts as he was the day you arrested him in New York. He's got a good lawyer—Ed Ginsky—but I don't know if Ed can control him.”

“I know who Ginsky is,” Dino said. “He's had a lot of experience dealing with angry spouses.”

“I wonder how much experience he's had in dealing with crazy ones?”

“Everybody who's getting a divorce is crazy for a while,” Dino said.

Stone picked up the phone. “I'd better call Bill Eggers and find Liz a local lawyer.”

Liz came running back from the saloon. “Thad's coming back tonight!” She ran toward her cabin.

Stone placed the call to Eggers and told him what he wanted.

“I don't know the Florida law offhand,” Eggers said, “but it sounds pretty straightforward.”

“That's what I think. You know somebody in Palm Beach?”

“No, but somebody here in the shop will. I'll have somebody call you.”

“Okay.”

“How's everything going?”

Stone gave him a recap of recent events.

“This is kind of messy, isn't it?”

“As divorces go, yes; but we might conclude a nasty case as well.”

 

Thad Shames came aboard his yacht late in the afternoon in high spirits. He swept Liz into his arms, kissed her, then shook hands with Stone and Dino, then he turned back to Liz. “Right here, in front of these witnesses, I want to ask you: Will you marry me?”

“Oh, yes!” she cried, and they kissed again.

Dino glanced at Stone and rolled his eyes.

“Isn't this romantic?” Callie asked Stone.

“Oh, yeah,” Stone replied.

“Let's do it this weekend,” Thad said enthusiastically.

“I'd love that!” Liz said, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks.

Stone and Dino exchanged glances. Stone was horrified, Dino amused.

Liz went to repair her makeup, and Stone made Thad sit down with him and Dino.

“Thad,” Stone said seriously, “don't you think you ought to wait until Liz is divorced before you get married?”

“Oh, that's just paperwork,” Thad said. “You've already got the signed property settlement and divorce papers, and anyway, legally, she's a widow—twice, in fact. Both deaths are a matter of public record.”

“Thad, rushing into this could make your life a lot more complicated. Why do that? I haven't looked into the Florida law, but with signed papers and a settlement, it shouldn't take long to get a decree. Relax and enjoy being engaged for a while.”

“Listen, Stone,” Thad said. “I've waited a long time for this girl, and I'm not going to let her get away. I'm not going to relax until we're married and on our honeymoon.”

Callie came with drinks for all of them.

“Callie, we're having a Sunday afternoon wedding,” Thad said. “Invite everybody who was at the housewarming, plus the New York list. Call the caterers—and find out how I get a marriage license and, if necessary, a blood test.”

Callie grabbed a pad and started taking notes.

“And, Stone, Dino, I want you both to stay for the wedding,” Thad said.

Stone looked at Dino, and they nodded.

“I wouldn't miss it,” Dino said.

“And, Thad,” Stone said, “we're going to need some outside security for this occasion.”

“Callie, take care of it,” Thad said. He got up. “I'm going to get a shower and change for dinner. Please book us a table somewhere, Callie.” He departed for the house.

Callie sat down next to Stone. “How much security are you going to want?”

“Let's see,” Stone said, looking toward the house. “We'll want two men, dressed like the car parkers, out in front of the house. There should be two men in each public room in the house, dressed as guests, four in the garden and two on the yacht. How many is that?”

“Eighteen.”

“Ask for twenty-four, and I want them to have radios.”

“Do you want them armed?”

Stone thought about that.

Dino spoke up. “I'm not sure it's a good idea, having that many armed men in a crowd. After all, we don't know these guys, don't know how good they are.”

“We'll have one armed man in each room, in the garden and on the yacht,” Stone said. “Tell them we want only their best-trained and most experienced men carrying.”

“All right,” Callie said.

“And I want them here an hour before the party, so I can brief them.”

“Okay.” She made a note of that.

“Anything else you can think of?” Stone asked Dino.

“Well, let's see,” Dino said, “we could have a couple of machine guns mounted on the roof, and maybe a bazooka or two.”

Callie laughed.

“Why do you think he's kidding?” Stone asked.

She laughed again. “I'd better go book us a dinner table,” Callie said, “and I've got a lot of phone calls to make.” She headed toward her cabin.

“Thad is completely nuts, isn't he?” Dino asked.

“He's nuts about Liz, no doubt about it.”

“I've never seen anybody move so fast.”

“It's the money. The superrich are accustomed to having what they want, when they want it, and that usually means
right now
.”

“It's a pretty short time to put together a big wedding.”

“Frankly, I'm surprised we're not doing it tonight. But don't worry—this is what Callie does, and she's used to doing it Thad's way.”

“Sounds like it's going to be a hell of a party,” Dino said.

“Or a hell of a mess,” Stone said.

 

They had dinner at an Italian restaurant, Luccia, on a covered terrace, and Stone was gratified that gunfire did not break out. He did not enjoy himself very much, though. He was preoccupied with Paul Manning, and he didn't even understand why.

Everything Manning was doing made sense. He was making money, he was removing the possibility of prosecution for insurance fraud, he was getting on with his life. So why was Stone so worried?

When he got back to the yacht that night, he started to crawl into bed with Callie, then stopped and went to the phone.

“This is Berman,” the voice said.

“Bob, it's Stone. I hope I didn't wake you.”

“Nah, what's up?”

“Got a pencil?”

“Shoot.”

“I want everything you can find—and I mean
everything
—on a William Charles Danforth.” He read him the P Street Washington address. “I want a full bio, and I want to know how far his credit history goes back. Do a criminal record check, too, and I want a photograph. I especially want a photograph.”

“Will do. How soon?”

“Tomorrow, as early as possible.”

“I'll call you.” Berman hung up.

Stone got into bed and snuggled up to Callie. Now that he felt he was doing something, he could pay her the proper attention.

D
INO FINISHED HIS COFFEE. “HOW ARE WE DRESSING for this shindig on Sunday?” he asked.

“Black tie,” Callie replied.

“In the afternoon?”

“The wedding's at six, with a small group of invited guests. Everybody else arrives at seven.”

“Oh, good, for a minute I thought we were going to be gauche and wear black tie in the afternoon.”

Callie laughed. “You gauche, Dino? Never!”

Dino gave her a sweet smile. “Stone, I gotta go shopping. You come with me.”

Stone looked at Callie.

“We'll be all right,” she said. “I've already got two security men in the main house.”

“You anticipate me,” Stone said.

“I try.”

“Okay, Dino, let's go shopping.” He led the way toward where the cars were parked. A man who was obviously a security guard paid a lot of attention to them.

“You're one of the two men on duty?” Stone asked.

“That's right.”

“My name is Barrington. This is Lieutenant Bacchetti, NYPD. You armed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Try not to shoot anybody, if you can help it.”

“I'll try.”

They got into the car and drove away.

“What are you shopping for?” he asked Dino.

“A dinner jacket.”

“Why don't you ask Mary Ann to ship yours down here? There's time.”

“That's a question only a lifelong bachelor could ask,” Dino said. “If you're in Palm Beach, and she's not, you don't call home and say, ‘Honey, send my dinner jacket, will you?' It would take too long to explain why to her, and in the end, she'd never believe you. Besides, I need a new one, anyway. Somebody threw up on the last one at a wedding last year, and the cleaners could never get it all out.”

“Where you want to shop?”

“They got an Armani here?”

“They do.”

“Giorgio always does my dinner jackets.”

Stone found a parking spot on Worth Avenue. He put the top up to keep the sun from overheating the black leather upholstery, and they walked to the shop.

Dino conferred with a salesman, and shortly, a fitter was marking up a white dinner jacket. “You like the white?” he asked Stone.

“I like. Very elegant.”

“I thought you would. I'm getting this just for you.”

“You're sweet.”

The fitter looked at them oddly. “What about the lump, sir?” he said, nodding toward the pistol on Dino's belt.

“Allow for that,” Dino said. “I'll be wearing it to the party.”

“Well, this is a first for Palm Beach,” the man muttered, but he did his work.

When they returned to the car, the driver's side window was a web of pieces, held together by the lamination.

“Looks like a golf ball hit it,” Dino said.

Stone looked up and down the street. “That's not funny.”

“Sure it is,” Dino laughed.

“You see her anywhere?”

“No, but a silver Volvo sedan has been following us.”

“Why didn't you mention it sooner?”

“What good would it have done? It would have just ruined your day.”

“You're right about that,” Stone said, flicking small shards of glass out of the driver's seat.

They drove back to the house and walked to the yacht.

“A message for you, Stone,” Callie said, handing him Bob Berman's number.

Dino glanced at the piece of paper. “What have you got Berman on?”

Stone led him into the saloon and picked up a phone. “One William Charles Danforth of Washington, D.C.”

“Who's that?”

“It's the passport Paul Manning is using these days.”

“Oh.”

Stone called Berman. “It's me. You got something?”

“I got a lot,” Berman said. “You want me to FedEx it to you, or you want to hear it now?”

“Let's hear it.”

“Okay. Mr. Danforth is all over the Internet, just like you'd expect a substantial person to be. He's got a credit history going back only four years. It's little stuff, credit cards, couple of department stores—Saks, Macy's. There's apparently no Mrs. Danforth, and there are no mortgages on the reports. He rents an apartment in the P Street house in Georgetown, has for four years.”

“So Mr. Danforth is only four years old.”

“Right.”

“What does he do?”

“He lists his occupation as business consultant.”

“Whatever that means.”

“Yeah. His credit card spending is consistent with a man making less than a hundred thousand dollars a year. I got one of the credit card statements for the past year, and he's traveled to Europe and Florida.”

“Where in Florida?”

“Miami, twice; last time ten days ago. He rented a car there, too.”

“Okay, what else?”

“He seems pretty ordinary. His phone number is listed. Nothing jumps out at you.”

“Did you find a photograph?”

“Nope, wasn't available from any of my sources.”

“What about a driver's license photo?”

“I checked D.C., Virginia and Maryland. Nothing there.”

“If he rented a car, he must have a license; if he has a license, there should be a photograph on file somewhere.”

“You want me to check all the states?”

“The contiguous forty-eight will do.”

“Okay, but it's going to take a few days. There's no federal registry of driver's licenses; it's purely a state thing.”

Stone had a thought. “How about a pilot's license? He knows something about airplanes.”

“There's no photograph on pilots' licenses; you ought to know that.”

“Oh, right,” Stone said, thinking of the license in his own pocket.

“You suspect this guy of being wonky in any way?” Berman asked. “There's no criminal record.”