Bel-Air Dead (18 page)

“Seems that way,” Stone said.

“You’re going to nail him to the wall, aren’t you?” Dino asked.

“Only if I get the chance,” Stone replied.

37

Stone was back at the Calder house when Rick Barron called.

“Stone, the Centurion shareholders’ meeting is set for early next week to take a vote on Prince’s final offer.”

“Has he come up with a final offer yet?”

“No, and he’s playing his cards very close to his vest.”

“We have a couple of new cards, too.”

“Tell me.”

“Jim Long is recovering; I think we’ll own his shares before the meeting.”

“And if we don’t?”

“We have fifteen thousand new shares that will vote our way.”

“From whom?”

“I promised I wouldn’t say. He doesn’t want it known until he actually votes. Frankly, I don’t blame him, what with the way that others have been dealt with.”

“Neither do I,” Rick said. “Do you feel confident he will actually vote with us?”

“He gave me his word, and I had a very strong impression that he meant it.”

“God, I hope I get through this without having a stroke,” Rick said.

“Just relax, Rick; it’s going to be all right.”

“I hope you’re right, Stone. Talk to you later.” They both hung up.

Manolo came out to the patio and handed Stone a brown envelope. “This was delivered by messenger a moment ago.”

Stone opened the envelope and found a formal offer for the Bel-Air property for two hundred fifty million and the new house. There was no mention of the Centurion deal. Stone called Arrington.

“Hello?”

“You out of your house?”

“I am; I’m in the rental.”

“We got an offer from Prince for your Bel-Air property a moment ago: two hundred fifty million and a house for you, built to your specs.”

“Wow!” she said. “I never thought he’d go that high.”

“It’s a rich offer, no doubt.”

“But?”

“But there’s no mention of the Centurion deal. I told him you wouldn’t consider an offer that didn’t include that.”

“What do you think he will do?”

“I’ve learned that the Centurion deal money is coming from some very sleazy people who would go nuts if he backed out of it.”

“So he’s—what’s the expression?”

“Between a rock and a hard place.”

“Exactly. What do you want to do?”

“I want to ignore the offer.”

“And how do you think he will react?”

“He’ll be very upset. The Centurion shareholders’ meeting is scheduled for early next week, to vote on his final offer, and we now have the votes to kill the deal.”

“Does he know that?”

“No. He’s going to get a rude shock when the votes are tallied.”

“Do you think he’ll still want the Bel-Air property if the Centurion deal doesn’t happen for him?”

“I think he will, but I don’t know what the consequences of the failed deal might be.”

“What should I do?”

“Nothing. I won’t even respond to the offer on Bel-Air. Let him stew in his own juices.”

“If he calls me directly, what should I tell him?”

“Refuse to discuss it; refer him to me.”

“Whatever you say, Stone.”

“Those are words I don’t hear nearly often enough.”

She laughed. “Bye.” She hung up.

Stone put the offer back in its envelope and tossed it on the table. It might make a nice souvenir, he thought. He picked up the phone and buzzed Manolo.

“Yes, Mr. Stone?”

“Manolo, if a Mr. Prince phones me, I’m not available, and you don’t know when I will be.”

“Yes, Mr. Stone.” He hung up.

Dino came out of the guesthouse in fresh clothes. “Lunch?” “Don’t mind if I do,” Stone said. He called Manolo and ordered for them. Stone showed Dino the offer.

“Wow!” Dino said.

“That’s what Arrington said.”

“Is she going to take it?”

“Nope. We’re not even going to respond.”

“I think you’d better start traveling with a bodyguard,” Dino said.

“But Dino, I have you; what more security do I need?”

“I hope you’re right, pal.”

Stone’s cell phone buzzed. He checked the caller ID before answering. “Hello?”

“It’s Harvey Stein; I have good news.”

“I can always use good news,” Stone said.

“I saw the judge this morning, and I’ve gotten Jim released on bail. His doctor says we can take him home tomorrow morning.”

“That is good news, Harvey.”

“There’s more. He signed the sales documents and the stock certificates just a moment ago.”

“That’s great news, Harvey; messenger them to me at the Calder house, and I’ll get the funds wired”—he looked at his watch—“just as soon as I receive them.”

“I’ll bring them myself,” Stein said. “Is now a good time?”

“It is,” Stone said.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

They hung up. “Long has signed,” Stone said, “and he got bail.” “Congratulations,” Dino said.

“Harvey Stein is bringing over the completed documents. Then I’ll call Bill Eggers and get the money wired.”

Lunch arrived, and they had just finished eating when Manolo escorted Harvey Stein out to the patio. Stone shook his hand and introduced Dino.

“Here you are,” Harvey said, handing him the documents. “Take a look and see if they’re properly executed.”

Stone went through the papers. “Perfect,” he said. “Just a moment.” He called Eggers and told him to wire the funds to Long’s account, then hung up. “Long’s account will have the funds within the hour,” he said to Stein.

“What do you think Terry Prince’s reaction will be when he hears?” Stein asked.

“Well, if our experience holds, he’s already heard about it, and we’re both still alive. Now that we own the shares, he has no reason for another attempt on Jim’s life, unless he just enjoys revenge.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Harvey said. “I’ve doubled the security at Jim’s house.”

“Good move,” Stone said. His cell phone went off, and he checked it. “That’s Terry Prince,” he said.

“What are you going to say to him?” Stein asked.

“I’m not going to say anything to him,” Stone said, putting away his cell phone.

38

Stone stretched out on his bed after lunch and switched on the TV for something to lull him to sleep. The first image he saw was a car in flames, but what really caught his attention was the glass and steel house in the background.

A voiceover came on. “Early this morning the Malibu Fire Department answered a call to the beach home of film producer Jack Schmeltzer, whose new film,
Window Shade
, opened last weekend to record grosses.” A two-shot followed: a reporter and a fireman.

“Somebody apparently soaked a rag in gasoline, stuffed it into the fuel cap, and basically turned the car into a giant Molotov cocktail,” the fireman said. “It’s a pity; it was a classic 1950s Mercedes convertible.”

“Mr. Schmeltzer was unavailable for comment,” the reporter said.

Stone rewound the DVR to the beginning of the report and called Dino. “Come in here; there’s something I want you to see.”

Dino came into the room and took a chair. “Shoot.” He watched the news report, an expression of disbelief on his face. “It’s Prince at work,” he said. “At least he didn’t kill anybody this time. How is this going to affect your share count?”

“I don’t know,” Stone replied. “I guess it hinges on how scared Jack Schmeltzer is. I hope he’s just mad.”

“I would be,” Dino said.

“So would I, but I don’t know Schmeltzer.”

Stone’s phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Charlene; have you heard what happened at Jack Schmeltzer’s house?”

“I just saw it on TV.”

“Have you spoken to Jack?”

“I don’t even have his phone number,” Stone said.

“I don’t have his home number, either,” she said, “but you can reach him at Centurion.”

“I’ll call him,” Stone said. “Talk to you later.” He hung up, called the studio, and asked for Schmeltzer. A secretary put him on hold.

“Hello, Stone?”

“Yes, Jack; I just saw the TV news report.”

“Can you believe that son of a bitch?”

“No, I can’t.”

“I’d sue him, if I could prove he did it. That car just went through a ground-up, eight-month restoration, a hundred and forty grand’s worth.”

“Don’t do anything, Jack; just stick it to him at the stockholders’ meeting. That’s the best revenge.”

“You’re right. I’d like to punch him in the nose, but you’re right: that’s the way to get him.”

“Don’t mention this to anyone; if you run into Prince, behave as if nothing has happened. Be cordial, make him think you’re still in his corner.”

“How’d he find out I’m voting with you?”

“I don’t know. His assistant asked if we talked, but I said we’d just met at your dinner party and didn’t really talk. I was careful not to let on.”

“Charlene wouldn’t have talked, would she?”

“Of course not.”

“I guess Prince just saw us both in the same room and made an assumption.”

“That’s probably it.”

“Well, I’m going to take a deep breath and start looking for another Mercedes.”

“That’s the spirit.” The two men said goodbye and hung up.

“He took it well,” Stone said.

His cell phone rang, and Prince’s name appeared on the screen. Stone ignored it.

“I’m going to go have a drink with Rivera and catch up. You want to come?” Dino asked.

“Sure,” Stone said. “I’ve got nothing better to do.” Stone changed and met Dino on the patio.

“Which car you want to take?”

“I don’t want to take the Bentley for a drink with a cop,” Stone said. “He might think ill of us.”

“Good point.”

Stone handed Dino the keys to the Mercedes. “Will you move our car so that I can put the Bentley into the garage?”

“Sure.”

The two of them walked through the house and out to the garage. Dino got into the Mercedes, started it, and backed into a parking spot.

Stone opened the garage door, then got into the Bentley, and pulled it inside.

Dino was standing outside when Stone closed the garage door; the Mercedes was idling, waiting. “I forgot my piece,” he said. “You got yours?”

Stone slapped his belt. “Right here.”

As if Stone had pressed a button, the Mercedes exploded.

39

Stone and Dino were blown a good six feet backward until they came to rest, hard, against the garage door and bounced back into the driveway. A hedge lining the parking spot that Dino had backed into took much of the debris from the car, but they were both peppered with shattered glass. The car burned furiously.

Dino got up and brushed himself off. “I guess we’d better take the Bentley,” he said.

Stone got up, too. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to the rental company,” he said.

Manolo came running from the house. “What happened?” he cried.

“We had a malfunction with the car,” Stone explained. “You’d better call nine-one-one and ask for the police and the fire department.”

“I’ll deal with that,” Dino said, reaching for his cell phone. “Rivera is going to have to come over here and have that drink.”

Stone nodded. He called the rental car company at Santa Monica Airport and told them he was going to need a new car.

“Any color but black,” he said. He gave her the address to deliver the new car.

“Where is the old car?” the woman asked.

“It’s here, but not drivable. I think you’d better call your insurer and get them to send somebody out here to look at it.”

“Did you wreck it?” she asked.

“Somebody did.”

“Is it totaled?”

“That would be my estimate,” Stone said, “but the insurance adjustor should make that call.”

“We’ll have a car out there inside of an hour,” the woman said, then hung up.

Manolo had gone into the house and came back with a broom and dustpan.

“No, no,” Stone said, “leave the pieces where they are. Do you have a fire extinguisher?”

Manolo went back into the house and came back with a small extinguisher.

“Never mind,” Stone said. “Let the fire department deal with it.”

An hour later the fire department had left, and so had the patrol car. A team from the crime lab were putting the pieces of the Mercedes on a flatbed truck. Stone, Dino, and Rivera sat at the patio table sipping iced tea, while Rivera took notes.

“So you think Prince did this. You want to add anything else?” Rivera asked.

“There’s nothing else to say,” Stone replied.

“Why do you think Prince did this?”

“He’s the only person in L.A. who might benefit from my demise.” Stone explained about the upcoming stockholders’ meeting at Centurion.

“And you think he destroyed this guy Schmeltzer’s car, too?”

“Yes, but I don’t think he expected Schmeltzer to be in it at the time.”

“Well, he sure must have expected you to be in this one,” Rivera said.

“Dino, remind me to always have you start the car,” Stone said.

Rivera closed his notebook. “It’s not too early for a drink, is it?”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Dino asked.

Stone placed the order with Manolo, and they sat, sipping. “So, what’s the latest on Carter, from Parker Center?” Stone asked.

“We think he’s in Mexico,” Rivera replied. “His mother is from some little town in Sonora, and he still has family there.”

“You going to go after him?”

“Not yet; we have to find a way to prove that he directed some inmate or other to off James Long before we’ll have a charge that can stick. Just leaving off his job isn’t enough.”

“You know,” Stone said, “I’m no longer sure that Terry Prince is directing this little campaign of mayhem.” He told Rivera about Prince’s backers from the drug trade. “Doesn’t this sound a whole lot more like them?”

“Very good point,” Rivera said. “It’s doubtful that a real estate developer would have the kind of direct connections to do these things, except maybe the shanking of Long. After all, we’ve been told that Prince spoke to Carter.”

“Wouldn’t hold up in court,” Dino said.