by Stuart Woods
“Who’s the lady cop?”
“Her name is Mitzi Reynolds. She’s midthirties, been on the squad for two years, and she’s from South Carolina -still has the accent.”
“She anything to do with the tobacco family?”
“Nah, her father’s a shrimper out of Charleston. She went to a nice school, though. I forget what it’s called.”
“Well, she can use her own name, and I’ll bet Sharpe will think she’s from cigarette money. Charleston is far enough away that he won’t be able to check her out easily. Use some budget to buy her some clothes.”
“Yeah, she’d love that, but don’t worry; she dresses good, has a real sense of style.”
“I might be able to fix her up with a Park Avenue address,” Stone said, “on a temporary basis. I’ll make a call tomorrow morning and see.” The building where he had dropped Rita Gammage was said to be the best address in the city; it would certainly impress Derek Sharpe.
“I’ll have Mitzi call you tomorrow morning. You should get together with her and tell her what you know. If you can get her into this apartment, that’ll keep down the budget, which ain’t going to be big for a small-timer like this Sharpe guy.”
Stone gave him a card. “Tomorrow morning’s good.”
Brian stood up. “Well, I’ve got to go out and work for a living tomorrow,” he said, “unlike you guys. You buying, Dino?”
“Nah, Stone is,” Dino said.
They all shook hands, and Brian left.
“I hope you’re not jerking Brian around,” Dino said.
“Certainly not. I think this is a bad guy; he’d fit right in at Attica.”
“Yeah, Attica is a real artist’s colony.”
“Don’t think artist; think con man, and you’ll be closer to the mark,” Stone said.
“What’s in this for you?” Dino asked.
“Eggers asked me to do what I can; the girl’s old man is a client of the firm.”
“Who is he?”
“Philip Parsons.”
“Gallery on Fifty-seventh?”
“One and the same. How the hell would you know?”
“I know a lot of stuff,” Dino said.
17
STONE WAS SITTING up in bed the following morning with a cup of coffee and the Times crossword when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Rita Gammage.”
“Good morning.”
“I just wanted to thank you for dinner last night.”
“You’re very welcome. Let’s do it again.”
“Love to. Did you talk to your man last night?”
“Yes, and I’ve been able to interest the downtown cops in Mr. Sharpe’s business dealings. In fact, I’m supposed to have lunch today with a lady cop who’s going to be leading the effort.”
“Wonderful!”
“Say, why don’t you join us?”
“Sure, where and what time?”
“How about my house at noon?”
“Sounds good. I’ve got your card, so I’ll know where.”
“See you then.”
Stone had hardly hung up when the phone rang again. “Hello?”
“Mr. Barrington?” spoke a honeyed woman’s voice.
“Yes.”
“This is Mitzi Reynolds. Brian Doyle asked me to call you.”
“Yes, we talked about you last night. Can you come to lunch at my house at noon? A lady with some knowledge of the man in question will be here, too.”
“Surely.”
Stone gave her the address, then hung up and pressed the page button on the phone. “ Helena?” He waited a moment, then she picked up.
“Mr. Stone?”
“I have a couple of people coming for lunch today. Could you fix us something?’
“I will be happy to.”
“Will it be warm enough in the garden to sit out there, do you think?”
“Oh, yes. Lots of sun, too. What would you like?”
“You decide. They’re invited for twelve, so let’s sit down at twelve thirty.”
“I will do this.” Helene hung up.
Stone went back to the puzzle.
HE WAS WORKING in his office when the upstairs doorbell buzzer rang. He picked up the phone. “Yes?”
“Your luncheon guests,” Rita said.
“I’ll buzz you in and meet you there in just a moment.” He pressed the buzzer and then called Joan.
“Yep?”
“I have guests for lunch, so I’ll be a while,” he said, and then he hung up and walked upstairs.
Rita Gammage and Mitzi Reynolds were standing in his living room, looking around. Mitzi, in what appeared to be an Armani business suit, was shorter than but just as good-looking as Rita, who was dressed in slacks and a cashmere sweater.
Stone gave Rita a peck on the cheek and introduced himself to Mitzi.
“We’ve already met each other,” Mitzi said. “We arrived simultaneously.”
“Follow me,” Stone said, then led them through the house and down to the kitchen, where Helene was working away. He introduced her to the two women.
“Anybody for a glass of champagne?” he asked, opening the fridge.
“Why not?” Mitzi said, and Rita nodded.
He took a bottle of Veuve Cliquot from the fridge, picked up three crystal flutes from a cabinet, and then led them outside to a group of chairs around a teak cocktail table. Helene had already set the lunch table with the good china. Stone poured them all a glass, and they sipped. Stone was having the problem he always had when meeting two beautiful women: which one to pursue?
“Rita, why don’t you tell Mitzi what you told me about Derek Sharpe last evening?” he said. He sipped his wine while Rita talked.
“That’s about all I know,” she said, finally.
“You make him sound repellent,” Mitzi said.
“Then I’ve done my work,” Rita replied.
Helene bustled out with two platters and set them on the table. “Lunch is served,” she said.
They took their seats at the table and served themselves from the Greek salad, taramasalata, hummus, and dolmades Helene had made.
“Mitzi,” Stone said, “did Brian give you some idea of what you’re supposed to do?”
“He pretty much left it up to me,” she said, “but I think the idea is that I will appear on his social radar and get him interested in the Reynolds fortune.”
“Oh, you’re from the Reynolds tobacco family?” Rita asked.
“No, I’m from the Reynolds shrimp family-no relation,” Mitzi said.
“Mitzi’s father operates a shrimp boat,” Stone explained.
“No,” Mitzi said, “he operates thirty shrimp boats, up and down the coast, from an office on the Charleston waterfront. Brian tends to get confused about my roots.”
“Ah,” said Stone, “and how…”
“Did a girl like me get to be a New York City cop? It was easy. I had a boyfriend for a couple of years who was a detective. I didn’t have any real work, and I was fascinated by his, so he suggested I take the police exam. I did well on that and joined the force. I got my gold shield six years later.”
“Brian said you went to a good school down there somewhere.”
“ Agnes Scott College, in Atlanta.”
Stone blinked. “I know someone who went to school there, Carrie Cox-do you know her?”
“She was a year behind me,” Mitzi said, “and she was a piece of work.”
Stone wanted to ask exactly what she meant by that, but Rita interrupted. “She’s the actress with the lead in the new Del Wood musical, isn’t she?”
“That’s the one.”
“Yes, I read about her on ‘Page Six.’ ”
“So did I,” Mitzi said, “and I can’t say I was surprised. How do you know her, Stone?”
“I’ve done some legal work for her,” Stone replied, and hoped she would leave it at that. “Tell me,” he said, “do you have a regular partner?”
“Tom Rabbit,” she said. “He’s due back from vacation tomorrow.”
“Good, because I think you’ll need some backup.”
“What’s he going to pose as?” Rita asked.
“Not as anything,” Mitzi said. “He wouldn’t fit into Derek Sharpe’s crowd. He’ll watch my back; he’ll be the cavalry that rides in if something goes wrong.”
“You make this sound dangerous,” Rita said.
“That’s unlikely,” Stone said, “but an undercover cop has to operate on the premise that he-or she, in this case-is in danger at all times. These things tend to have a happier ending if you think that way. Shall we have another bottle of champagne?”
They did.
18
THEY HAD FINISHED LUNCH and the second bottle of champagne and were on coffee.
“Rita,” Stone said, “I need your help on something else.”
“What’s that?”
“I need to find Mitzi a temporary place in a good building on the Upper East Side, somewhere she can operate from. Her address will be the first thing Derek Sharpe will learn about her, and it has to impress him.”
Rita turned to Mitzi. “Mitzi, why don’t you just bunk with me? I live in my parents’ apartment in a nice building. They spend most of their time at their house in the Hamptons, and there are comfortable guest rooms.”
“Thank you, Rita,” Mitzi replied. “That’s very kind of you.”
Stone relaxed; that had gone just the way he had hoped. He heard the phone ring in the kitchen.
Helene stuck her head out the back door. “Phone for you, Mr. Stone!”
“Will you ladies excuse me?” Stone said. He took the call so they would have an opportunity to get to know each other better in his absence. He went into the kitchen, sat down at the counter, and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Brian Doyle.”
“Hey, Brian. Thanks for putting Mitzi on this. I’ve introduced her to a woman who can help her get to know the scene, and she now has the best address on Park Avenue.”
“That’s good news,” Brian said. “I have some of my own.”
“Shoot.”
“Mr. Mervin Pyle, aka Derek Sharpe, does not have a record under either of those names.”
“I’m surprised to hear it,” Stone said.
“Don’t be too surprised; he has records under three other names. Apparently our boy took to identity change as a way of life in his youth. He lived in Dallas, L.A., and San Francisco, where he managed an art gallery for a while.”
“What sort of stuff?”
“Burglary, embezzlement, battery, attempted murder, all under different names.”
“Did he do time?”
“Only while awaiting bail. His IDs were so good that, each time he pled out, and as, supposedly, a first offender, he got no jail time.”
Rita and Mitzi came into the kitchen, and Stone asked Brian to hang on.
“Do you mind if we have a look around your house?” Rita asked.
“Not at all. Explore to your heart’s content.”
She handed him a card. “You might have your secretary have some cards like this printed for Mitzi.”
Stone took the card: “ 71 East Seventy-first Street? I thought you lived on Park.”
“It’s the side-door address for those who want to be discreet. Maybe you should use 740 Park on her cards for Sharpe’s edification.”
“Sure.” The women wandered off, and Stone went back to his call. “I’m back.”
“I was particularly interested in the battery and attempted murder charges,” Brian said, resuming. “I got hold of a San Francisco detective who worked the latter case, and he told me that Sharpe has a very bad temper, especially when drinking, and he has a propensity for violence. The attempted murder case arose out of a fight between him and another guy he nearly beat to death. It took four cops to pull him off.”
“What was the battery charge about?”
“He beat up a girlfriend, and she called the cops.”
“Mitzi tells me her partner is out of town until tomorrow,” Stone said.
“And she won’t start until then,” Brian replied. “Her partner, Tom Rabbit, is a big Irish guy who can handle anything and who is very protective of her.”
“Brian, can you get her a car to be driven around in? Rabbit could be the chauffeur.”
“Good idea. Let me check the pound and see what we’ve confiscated lately.”
“You were right,” Stone said. “She’s a very bright lady. Oh, here’s her new address: 740 Park Avenue.” Then he read out the phone number.
Brian let out a low whistle. “How’d you swing that building? I read a book about that place.”
“It’s where Rita Gammage lives; Rita works for Philip Parsons.”
“Then she’s a very rich lady.”
“Or her parents are.”
“Same thing,” Brian said. “I gotta run. Tell Mitzi to call me later today, and I’ll check on a car.”
“Nothing too flashy,” Stone said. “Let’s not overdo it.”
“Gotcha.” Brian hung up.
Stone walked to his office, then down the hall to Joan’s room. “Can you get some of these printed in the name of Mitzi Reynolds? 740 Park Avenue? Same zip and phone. It’s a rush job.”
“Sure,” Joan said. “I’ll run them over to our printer and wait for them.” She grabbed her coat.
“On nice stock,” Stone said.
“I get it.” Joan was gone.
Stone walked back to the kitchen, where Helene was washing the champagne flutes by hand. “Where are the ladies?”
“Haven’t seen them,” Helene replied.
“That was a delicious lunch,” Stone said, and Helene beamed at him.
He walked up to the living room and had a look there and in his study: no sign of the women. He walked upstairs and looked into a couple of guest rooms, then continued on to the master. As he approached, the door was ajar, and he heard giggling. He opened the door and stood there, transfixed.
The two women were in his bed, and, judging from the pile of clothing on the floor, they weren’t wearing any. He didn’t know what to say.
Rita took up the slack. “Join us?” she said.
19
STONE WOKE SLOWLY in a champagne-induced haze. He was in the middle of his bed, and the women were nowhere to be seen. Then he heard a laugh from his bathroom and heard the shower go on. He drifted off again.
HE AWOKE to a pair of lips attached to each of his cheeks.
“We’re off,” Rita said.
“I’m off, too,” Stone replied sleepily.
“You were just great, Stone,” Mitzi said.
“Yes,” Rita said, “but for a moment I thought you were too shocked to accept our invitation.”
“Only for a moment,” Stone said
“We’ll be in touch,” Mitzi said, and the two women moved toward the stairs. Stone drifted off again.
THE PHONE WOKE him a couple of hours later, and he reached for it.
“Hi, it’s Carrie.”
“Hi, there.”
“You sound sleepy.”
“Yeah, I had an afternoon nap,” he managed to say.
“Will you and Dino be at Elaine’s?”
“Sure, eight thirty.”
“May I join you?”
“Of course.”
“See you then.”
Stone hung up, turned on his side, and went back to sleep. He woke in the dark, switched on the bedside lamp, and stood up. He staggered a little before he caught himself; he felt as if he had just run a marathon. Well, he thought, he had, in a way. The bedside clock said almost eight, and he ran for the shower.
CARRIE WAS ALREADY at the table with Dino when Stone walked in. He waved for a drink and sat down.
“You look different,” Carrie said, kissing him.
“Different?” He didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Completely relaxed,” she
said. “It must have been a good nap.”
“It certainly was,” Stone replied.
“I talked to Brian,” Dino said. “Sounds like you got what you wanted.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
“What is he talking about?” Carrie asked.
“Just a little police operation downtown.”
“Is it a secret?”
“Yes.”
“I hate secrets; tell me.”
“Can’t. Lives are at stake.”
Carrie turned to Dino. “That’s a lie, isn’t it?”
“Nope,” Dino said. “Lives are at stake.”
“Oh,” Stone said, “I met someone who knew you at Agnes Scott College.”
“Who?”
Stone backtracked. “I can’t remember her name; she was from Charleston.”
“Mitzi somebody?”
“That sounds right.”
“She was a year or two ahead of me. She was very pretty.”
“She still is.”
Carrie’s eyes narrowed. “And how did you meet her?”
“I had lunch with a business associate, and she came along.”
“I’d love to see her. Did you get her number?”
“She went back to Charleston this afternoon, I believe.”
“Good.”
So much for changing the subject, Stone thought. He hadn’t seen Carrie jealous before, and it was a little scary. He remembered the straight razor. “How are rehearsals going?”
“I had a little contretemps with the choreographer today,” she said.
“He wanted me to do a move that would have broken my back.”
“And how did you handle that?”
“With a flat refusal, a display of temper, and a couple of bad words.”
“How did that work out?”
“He removed the move from the routine,” she said with some satisfaction. “I mean, I might have managed it when I was eighteen, but I know my body better than he does.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“You know it better than he does,” she said with a sly smile.
“Harrumph,” Dino sputtered. “Too much information.”
“Oh, Dino, you’re sweet,” she said, laughing.
“Was that the only problem?” Stone asked.
“There was an unwelcome twist,” she said. “He asked my understudy to demonstrate the move for me. Her name is Melissa Kelley, and she’s in the chorus, and if he weren’t gay I would suspect something between them.”