by Stuart Woods
“Borrow it, will you? And will you please call him right now and tell him that Mitzi bought it? I have the feeling Hildy is going to call her father tonight and ask him.”
“I’m sure he’ll loan it to me for a few days when I explain why,” she said. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Another thing,” Stone said. “Mitzi has told them that Ralph Lauren personally decorated her apartment.”
“That’s outrageous!”
“I know, but she did it.”
“Fortunately, most of my upholstered furniture is from Mr. Lauren’s store.”
“That will be a big help,” Stone said, “but there’s a further complication.”
“Now what?”
“When Hildy questioned whether Lauren personally does decorating jobs, Mitzi told her that Lauren and her father are very old friends and that he was one of Lauren’s early investors.”
“Oh, shit. If I know Hildy, she’ll find a way to track that down.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Do you know Lauren?” “I’ve met him a few times, but I don’t think he’d recognize my name.”
“Does Philip?”
“I think he sold him a picture once, a few years back.”
“Do you think Philip would call him and try to get him to back up this story?”
“I’m not at all sure about that,” Rita said. “Let me think about how to do this, and in the meantime, I’ll call Philip and ask about the Hockney.”
“I’m afraid that I don’t know Mitzi’s father’s first name,” Stone said.
“It’s Mike. She told me.”
“Good, I’ll leave it with you.”
“Are you home? I’ll call you back.”
“No, we’re in a sushi restaurant downtown with Hildy and Sharpe.”
“Call me when you get home. I’ll be up late.”
“Will do.” Stone hung up and returned to the table.
“Oh, Stone,” Mitzi said, “Derek and Hildy are coming for drinks tomorrow evening.”
“How nice,” Stone said, very glad that he had called Rita. Then he had a terrifying thought: Had Hildy ever visited Rita’s apartment?
THEY FINALLY WRAPPED up dinner, and the check came. It sat there. Stone was damned if he was going to pick it up; this had been at least a seven-hundred-dollar dinner, given the wine Sharpe had ordered, and it wasn’t Stone’s party. He decided to take the bull by the balls. “Thank you so much for dinner, Derek,” Stone said, pushing the check across the table. That was very extravagant of you.” He thought he saw Sharpe turn pale. He turned to Mitzi. “Shall we go?”
“Yes, let’s do,” she replied. “Can we drop you?” she asked Hildy and Sharpe.
“We’re going to have an after-dinner drink at the bar,” Sharpe said. “We’ll make our own way home.”
Stone hustled Mitzi out of the restaurant and into the car. “How’d that go?” Tom Rabbit asked.
“Wonderfully well,” Mitzi said.
Stone thought she was a little drunk. “You really threw a monkey wrench into the works,” Stone said.
“How’s that?” She seemed baffled.
“Well, first of all, that business about the Hockney.”
Mitzi giggled. “Oh, yes, I forgot about that.”
“I spoke to Rita. She’s going to borrow a Hockney from Philip Parsons.”
“Well, that’s all solved, then, isn’t it?”
“Not quite. Now we have to deal with your chummy relationship with America ’s most famous designer, who has personally decorated your apartment.”
“Well, it looks as though he decorated it,” she said innocently.
“And that stuff about your father investing with Lauren years ago.”
“Oh, that’s perfectly true,” she said.
Stone looked at her skeptically. “Are you sure about that? Because that’s a loose end that can’t be left untied.”
“Of course, I’m sure.”
“All right, then we’re okay on that story about your father and Ralph. What are we going to do if Hildy gets to him and asks if he decorated your apartment?”
“Oh, I’ll call Ralph in the morning and square that with him.” She turned and took him by a lapel. “Did you really think I would spout all that stuff without being able to back it up?”
“Frankly, yes. I had no idea where that was coming from, and it would have been nice if you had tipped me off before you said it.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” she said.
“And what about the Hockney? Did you have that all squared, too?”
“Well, Rita took me to the gallery, and I saw a Hockney there. I figured something could be done.”
“Mitzi, if you continue this high-wire act, you’re going to give me a coronary,” Stone said.
“Yeah,” Tom echoed from the front seat, “she gives me coronaries all the time. You’d better get used to it.”
“Tell me about your own little monkey wrench,” Mitzi said.
“What are you talking about?” Stone asked.
“I’m talking about Carrie Cox,” she said. “God, what a scene.”
“Well, I had no idea she was going to be there,” Stone said lamely. “I hustled her out of there as fast as I could.”
“And did you tell her I’m a cop?”
“I had to; she would have blown you on the spot.”
“Talk about high-wire acts,” Mitzi said, laughing. “You know, I think she actually lent some credibility to our little farce. Even her jealous act helped.”
“I hope you’re right,” Stone said.
“So, you and Carrie are an item,” Mitzi said.
“I told you, I’ve done some legal work for her.”
“Well, I guess it was legal,” Mitzi replied. “I mean, she is of age, isn’t she?”
AT 740 PARK,Stone walked Mitzi to her door.
She kissed him on the cheek. “By the way,” she said, “you acquitted yourself very well yesterday afternoon.”
“I must say, that was a surprise,” Stone said.
“Judging from the look on your face, I’d say it was a shock!”
“Well…”
“Let’s do it again sometime.”
“Absolutely,” Stone tried to say with confidence. He was still a little rattled by the experience.
“And Rita feels the same way,” Mitzi said. “Good night.” She gave him a little wave and went into the building.
Stone got into the front seat of the Bentley. “That woman is something,” he said to Tom.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Tom replied.
23
THE FOLLOWING DAY STONE WENT to the stage door of the Del Wood Theater, gave his name to the watchman, introducing himself as Carrie’s attorney, and went and stood in the wings.
Carrie was in the middle of what was apparently her big dance number, and Stone was impressed. Paco, from the night before, was her dance partner, and he was trying gamely to keep up and almost making it. The number ended, and the choreographer called Paco over for a chat.
Carrie grabbed a towel and patted her face. When she saw Stone in the wings she came over. “Visitors aren’t allowed at rehearsals,” she said. “Wait for me in my dressing room.” She pointed the way and then walked back onto the stage.
Stone found a door with a star tacked to it and let himself in. It was fairly large, with a big dressing table, a long couch, and a couple of chairs, as well as an en suite bathroom. The decor wasn’t much, he thought, but there were a couple of paint cans and some wallpaper rolls in a corner, so he reckoned that would change soon. He settled on the sofa and leafed through a Variety from the coffee table.
Carrie came in after a few minutes and slammed the door behind her.
Stone got up to greet her.
“You were very mean to me last night,” she said, pouting.
“You were behaving badly,” he said, “so I had to be mean. You could have caused a great deal of damage.”
“So she
really is a police detective?”
“She is.”
“That’s what Tom, her driver, said.”
“Tom is a cop, too. He’s Mitzi’s partner.”
She pushed him onto the sofa and sat beside him. “All right, I want to hear the whole story.”
“I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest version,” he said, and he managed it in a few sentences. “And you should stay away from Derek Sharpe,” he told her.
“I can see that,” she said. “Anyway, I hate his stuff. I don’t know why anyone would buy it.”
“You have excellent taste.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, getting up and stripping off her sweater and tights. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said. “You want to buy me dinner later?”
“Sure.”
“Can we go to Elaine’s and see Dino?”
“I’m fairly certain he’ll be there; he always is.”
She dropped her clothes into a hamper and took off her bra and panties.
Stone was impressed all over again. She had a dancer’s body: slim with long muscles and high breasts. She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower without closing the door. Stone was happy to watch. When she came out, drying herself with a towel, she gave him a long look, then locked the door and sat on his lap, facing him.
“Your lips become fuller when you’re turned on,” Stone said. “That’s some kisser you’ve got there.”
She kissed him. “That’s what the lips are for,” she said, then slid to the floor, unzipped his fly, and showed him how else the kisser could be used.
Afterward, Stone fell asleep, waiting for her to get dressed.
DINO DIDN’T SEEM surprised to see them. Stone ordered them drinks.
“Dino,” Carrie said, “you were very naughty last night not to tell me about Mitzi being a cop and all.”
“You aren’t supposed to know about that,” Dino said, shooting Stone a sharp glance.
“She turned up at Derek Sharpe’s studio, unannounced,” Stone said in his defense.
“Do I have to tell you everything I do?” Carrie asked, sipping her drink.
“You have to tell me when you decide to go to Atlanta,” Stone said.
“I’ll do that,” she said.
“You didn’t do that,” he replied.
Her jaw dropped. “How did you find out?”
“Why, it was all over ‘Page Six’ in the Post,” Stone said. “ ‘Crazy Dancer/Actress to Visit Her Atlanta Ex-husband, Who Wants to Kill Her.’ Didn’t you see it?”
She laughed. “It was not.”
“Tell me,” Stone said, “what was the point of our pulling out all the stops to keep you safe if you’re going to go running into his arms at the first opportunity?”
“It’s not like that,” she said.
“What is it like?”
“A mutual friend has offered to mediate the settlement,” Carrie said.
“You told me you already had a settlement.”
“There are a few loose ends,” she said. “Dear Max has bounced back financially with the help of a Saudi prince, who has a house in Atlanta. I’m told he’s actually better off now than he was before.”
“I’m told that, too,” Stone said. “So you’re going to hold him up for more?”
“For more cash. He was strapped a year ago, so I took not very liquid assets.”
“There’s nothing like cash,” Stone said. “It makes a wonderful motive for murder. What makes you so sure Max won’t be meeting your flight and taking you for a little ride?”
“I know what would make you feel better about this,” Carrie said. “Come with me.”
Stone was brought up short. He had no desire to go to Atlanta, but having made a fuss about it, he could hardly say no. “All right,” he said.
“I’ll book you on the same flight,” she said. “And I’ve already booked a suite at the Ritz-Carlton Buckhead.”
“Who else is going to be at this meeting?” Stone asked.
“Max’s lawyer and our mutual friend, a lawyer named Ed Garland.”
“I know Ed,” Stone said. “Had you planned to do this without an attorney of your own?”
“I was going to ask you,” she said, “and I would have last night, if you hadn’t marched me out of Derek Sharpe’s studio.”
“I’m sorry I had to do that,” Stone said.
“I’m sorry you had to do that, too,” she replied. “I apologize for my behavior.”
“No need to apologize.”
Dino spoke up. “Does anybody want to order dinner? Or do you two want to get a room?”
“Dinner now, room later,” Carrie said, shooting Stone a leer. “You owe me.” She picked up a menu.
“I do, and I’ll pay,” Stone promised.
24
STONE WAS AT HIS DESK the following morning when Bill Eggers called.
“Good morning, Bill,” Stone said.
“Can you give me a progress report on the Parsons problem?”
“I can,” Stone said. “I’ve arranged for a female police detective to be dangled before Derek Sharpe, pretending to be an heiress from South Carolina. Actually, she’s not pretending, because that’s what she is.”
“Go on.”
“The idea is that, having loosened him up with a displayed interest in buying his work, she will attempt to buy drugs from him. If that works, he’s off the street.”
“I like that,” Eggers said, sounding surprised.
“Why do you sound surprised?” Stone asked.
“Well, frankly, I hadn’t expected such fast action with the promise of such permanent results.”
“This hasn’t worked yet, Bill,” Stone replied. “Things can go wrong, and the detective is placing herself at some risk.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Have you spoken with Philip Parsons about this?”
“He’s being kept apprised by a staff member of his gallery.”
“And he’s happy?”
“I’ve no reason to think that he’s not.”
“Good work, Stone. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Bill, but be proud when it’s done.”
“I’ll be proud then, too. Good-bye.” Eggers hung up.
Carrie, holding the straps of her duffel, appeared in his office. “Our flight is in two hours,” she said.
“Where’d you get the clothes?”
“From your closet. Didn’t you notice they were there?”
“Nope.”
“Where are your clothes?” she asked, her head cocked to one side, hand on hip.
“They’re in my closet, too,” Stone replied.
“Had you planned to take some with you?”
“What will I need?”
“Something to make you look lawyerly at our meeting and whatever else you need. We’ll be flying home tomorrow.”
“I’ll be right back,” Stone said, rising from his desk.
JOAN DROVE them to LaGuardia in Stone’s car, and their flight was on time. They were on the airplane before Stone realized that he would rather be flying himself. Well, at least they were in first class.
They were met by a car and driver at Hartsfield International and driven to the Ritz-Carlton.
“What time is our meeting?” Stone asked.
“Four o’clock.”
“Why aren’t we returning to New York tonight?”
“In case we need a second meeting tomorrow.”
THEY ARRIVED AT Ed Garland’s office on time and were greeted warmly by Garland, with whom Stone had previously worked on a case, and coolly by Max Long and his attorney. The meeting was called to order, and Stone sat silently while Carrie enumerated her demands. He tried not to hold his breath.
Long’s attorney opened his mouth to speak, but Max stopped him. “Yes,” he said.
“We’ll take yes for an answer,” Stone said. “Ed, can I borrow a typist for a moment? We’ll get this signed now.”
“Sure, Stone.”
; Half an hour later, both parties signed, and Max Long wrote a large check. Everyone shook hands and parted.
On the way back to the hotel, Stone handed Carrie her copy of the agreement. “Tell me again why I was at this meeting?” he asked.
“For bodily protection,” Carrie said, “and as a prop.”
“A prop? Like a stage prop?”
“Exactly. You were the attorney prop.”
“You mean you knew that Max would meet your demands?”
“I did.”
“How?”
“He knew that if he didn’t, I would make his life miserable until he did. I knew that he knew that it would be a whole lot easier for him if he just caved immediately, before I could think of something else to ask for.”
“You should have been a divorce lawyer,” Stone said.
“I have been, for the past year or so,” she said. “I’ve learned a lot.”
“You’re a quick study.”
“On stage and off.”
After dining at the excellent Ritz-Carlton restaurant, they made love until they were exhausted and then fell asleep.
The following morning they were driven to the airport, and as the airplane lifted off the runway, Stone relaxed. Nobody had tried to kill Carrie, and it appeared that nobody would. He was able to sleep all the way home.
When he got back to the house, there was a phone message from Mitzi Reynolds, time-stamped the afternoon before.
“Our drinks with Sharpe and Hildy have been postponed until tomorrow night,” she said. “My place at seven. We’re going to dinner afterward.”
Stone breathed a sigh of relief; he had completely forgotten their appointment of the evening before.
“I have plans for this evening,” he said to Carrie, “so I’m going to put you in a cab home.”
“Plans?” she asked.
“In connection with the police operation.”
“You’re seeing Mitzi, then?”
“I am.”
“Do I have to get used to that?”
“You do,” he said, “until we pull this thing off.”
“I’m going to pout now,” she said, pouting.
He kissed her and put her into a cab.
“Call me tomorrow,” she said.
He waved her off and went back inside, still tired from his exertions of the past two nights.