by Stuart Woods
“Isn’t that better?”
“It is if I freelance enough for them. Right now, I’m doing personality pieces, and garden and home stuff. I’m also a medium-rent dinner party advisor, under the name of Penelope Fairleigh, like the hotel uptown. I’m making almost as much as I did after my raise. If I knew anything about horses or shotguns, I’d be making even more.”
“I don’t like what this Barrington guy did to you.”
“Well, neither do I, but I’m not stupid enough to try to do anything about it.”
“I’m stupid enough,” he said.
“No, baby, don’t get involved.”
“I don’t mind being involved, if nobody knows it.”
“He’s bigger than you, sweetie.”
“I’m not going to slug it out with him, I’m sneakier than that. What’s his weak spot?”
“Sex. It’s also his strong point.”
“You sound regretful.”
“Well, I didn’t play it as well as I should have. Al Teppi looked into him and said he’s the kind of guy I should marry and divorce, not somebody to dump.”
“You dumped him?”
“I embarrassed him in print, which is worse, then he dumped me.”
“No chance of putting it back together?”
She shook her head. “He won’t even speak to me. I saw him at a big wedding reception, and he had me thrown out.”
“That was a shitty thing to do.”
“I know. I had to pay somebody two hundred bucks for the details so I could write my piece.”
“Tell you what, let’s both think about a way to get even with him—and not get caught doing it.”
“That’s a nice thought,” she said. They clinked their wineglasses and drank to it.
—
Stone got back from lunch with a friend, and Joan handed him a large envelope. “This just came from Charley Fox,” she said.
Stone sat down at his desk and shook out the contents. The new Just Folks stared back at him, and he began leafing through it.
Joan buzzed. “Charley Fox on one.”
Stone picked up the phone. “Hey, Charley, thanks for the new Just Folks.”
“Not bad, huh? I watched over its rebirth. I wasn’t sure Al Finch and that editor, Hazel, had it in them.”
“I’ like this piece on Jamee Fellows,” Stone said. “I’ve always liked her work.”
“That’s by their new star writer, an Englishwoman named Laurentia Scott-Peebles.”
“Never heard of her.”
“She’s a retired professor at Oxford, lives reclusively out on Long Island, and, I hear, she’s in her sixties—too old for you.”
“Oh, well.”
“Listen, I should warn you—the new look for the magazine is going to cost us some circulation. Al Finch reckons we’ll lose a million and a half before we come back.”
“I hope he has a decent sales force to push the new look.”
“That, and with Faith Mackey’s help, he’s throwing a big press party next week, to make a splash and get some attention. Faith is beating the bushes to get us some ink, too.”
“Faith knows how to do that.”
“There’s an invitation in the mail. Will we see you there?”
“I’ll be there. See you then.” Stone nearly hung up, then remembered something. “Oh, Charley, I almost forgot. I’m going to need the yacht between Christmas and New Year’s. That okay with you?”
“That’s fine. That week Kaley and I are going skiing with Mike Freeman and his current.”
“Perfect, then I won’t have to clear it with him.”
“Where are you going to be cruising? Surely not in Maine that time of the year.”
“No, I’m headed for sunnier climes, but where is a secret.”
“Why?”
“Some of my guests don’t want to be noticed.”
“That sounds mysterious.”
“I’ll tell you about it when it’s over, and don’t start questioning the captain. He and the crew are sworn to secrecy.”
“I’m guessing a movie star. Or two.”
“You can guess, but I will neither confirm nor deny.”
“At least you can tell me where.”
“No, I can’t. When I’m finally able to explain, you’ll understand perfectly why I couldn’t.”
“The islands?”
“Maybe, but I’m not telling you which islands.”
“And there are too many to guess.”
“There you go, pal. I hope it doesn’t keep you up nights.” Stone said goodbye and hung up.
31
Stone and Dino met at their club in the East Sixties, one so anonymous that it didn’t have a name; the members called it, simply, “The Club.” Dino called it “The Joint.”
They met in the bar and had barely ordered a drink when Senator Eliot Saltonstall turned up, alone, and joined them.
“You throw a very nice bash, Eliot,” Dino told him. “I’ve never had so much fun in a place that elegant.”
“I may have to mortgage my house to pay the bill,” the senator replied ruefully.
“I’m very impressed with your new son-in-law, Eliot,” Stone said, “and so is my group at Woodman & Weld.”
“It’s nice to have a son-in-law I don’t have to support,” Saltonstall replied. “I had that problem with Celeste’s older sister’s first husband. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved as when she divorced him.”
“You think Peter can nail down the Senate seat in two years?” Stone asked.
“I think so, though I’ve heard a troubling rumor that Benton Blake is thinking seriously about running. He’s already got a fully constructed political team, so Peter is going to have to run fast just to keep up.”
“I’m good for a donation when he’s ready,” Stone said.
“Funny you should mention that,” the senator said with a little smile. “You remember how Kate raised the money to get her campaign off the ground?”
“I remember.” Stone had been one of a group of men who had donated a million dollars each to a political action committee formed for her benefit.
“Can I put you down for a million?”
“Of course,” Stone said, hoping he didn’t sound too regretful about it.
“Eliot,” Dino said, “you can put me down for a round of applause when he gets elected. Stone and I float in different ponds.”
“I couldn’t ask a public servant for that kind of help, Dino, but I’ll think of something else you can do.”
“Uh-oh,” Dino said, and they all laughed.
“I hear you two, along with Peter and Celeste, have a cruise planned shortly after Christmas.”
“Don’t breathe a word of that to anybody, Eliot,” Stone said. “Our other guests don’t want it to get out.”
“I wonder why,” the senator said. “Everybody’s entitled to some time off. What’s going on there?”
“I haven’t asked, and I’m not going to,” Stone replied.
“So be it. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
They finished their drinks and went in to dinner together.
Over the main course, Saltonstall looked around, then leaned in. “Dino,” he said, “I wonder if there might be something in Benton Blake’s background that he might not want mentioned to the voting public?”
“I’m not aware of anything, Eliot. I should think that having run twice for governor, anything like that would have emerged a long time ago.”
“I’d be grateful for a heads-up if you should ever hear of anything,” the senator said.
Dino shrugged noncommittally, but said nothing.
Saltonstall excused himself before dessert. “My wife’s playing bridge, and she’
ll be home soon.”
When he had gone, Dino lowered his voice and said, “Can you believe that kind of question from a guy like Saltonstall?”
“He’s a politician, Dino, and that’s what his new son-in-law is going to be. He’s just taking the long view.”
“You mean he thinks the kid has a shot at something beyond the Senate?”
“Don’t you think so?” Stone asked.
“Yeah, I guess I do,” Dino replied.
—
Downtown, the governor of New York had swept the Chinese food off the table and was fucking the brains out of Gloria Parsons, who was doing everything she could think of to help. Only when they had come noisily did they repair to her bedroom, just for the rest.
“Is this getting to be a weekly date?” Gloria asked, her head on his hairy chest.
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” Blake replied.
“I can live with that,” she said.
“How’s your friend the ex-con doing?” he asked, changing the subject deftly.
“Very well, thanks to you. He’s got a decent job at W, and he seems very happy.”
“Glad to hear it,” Blake replied. “Doing his part to keep the recidivism rate down, then?”
“You could say that.”
“I hate it when somebody I’ve helped goes back—makes me look like I have poor judgment.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about him,” Gloria said, toying with his genitalia. “Feeling like a little recidivism?”
“More and more,” he said, pulling her on top of him. “Your turn to do all the work.”
32
Stone was at his desk when Joan buzzed him. “Bob Cantor is here,” she said.
“Send him in.”
Bob walked into the office, they shook hands, then he sat down.
The other Bob, the Labrador retriever, wandered into the office, sniffed at Cantor, approved, and lay down with his head on the man’s foot.
“Bob, have you met Bob?”
“He’s named for me?”
“No, it’s just a coincidence. His mother whelped a large litter, and she was running out of names.”
“I see. Would you like a report?”
“Shoot.”
“I followed Gloria Parsons from her office to Alphonse Teppi’s loft, where the two had a conversation about you.” He placed a recording device on Stone’s desk and pressed a button.
Stone listened carefully. “Ah, that’s where the piece about my murdering my wife came from.”
“Did she try that?”
“She did, and she got fired for her trouble.”
“I heard something about that during my surveillance,” Bob said. “She’s back at work, though.”
“At Just Folks?”
“Under a new name, Laurentia Scott-Peebles, known as Scotty. She’s also writing a dinner party column under the name of Penelope Fairleigh. She’s making slightly more as a freelancer than she made on staff.”
“I don’t seem to be able to get rid of her.”
“You want me to do something about it?”
“No, just let it ride. She’s a good writer, I’ll give her that, even under the two pseudonyms. I’ll just keep the knowledge as ammunition for a later date.”
“She also managed to get Danny Blaine out of Fishkill.”
“How the hell did she do that?”
“By fucking the governor. Blake commuted the kid’s sentence.”
“Well now, that’s interesting on two counts,” Stone said.
“It’s apparently getting to be a weekly thing,” Bob said. “They talked about it in bed.”
“I know someone who needs to know this,” Stone said, “but not until the proper time. Have you made tapes?”
“Yes.”
“Please continue to do so.”
“She also had lunch with Danny and told him about being fired from the magazine. He wants revenge, but she’s told him to cool it, she doesn’t want him to go back to prison, and by the way, neither does the governor.”
“Well, that shows restraint. Stay on her, and let’s see what else turns up.”
“As you wish. I gave Joan my bill to date.”
“Thanks, Bob, and keep those reports coming in.”
The two men shook hands, and Bob left. The other Bob didn’t even notice the removal of his pillow; he just snored on.
—
Joan buzzed him. “Peter Rule on one.”
“Peter? How are you?”
“Very well, Stone. Are you, by chance, free for lunch today?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I saw your name on the Yacht Club’s newly elected members’ list this morning. Why don’t we meet there? Twelve-thirty?”
“See you then.”
Stone had nearly forgotten that he had been proposed for membership. Those wheels ground slowly, he guessed. He had gone most of his life without joining any kind of club, and now he belonged to three, and he didn’t mind a bit.
—
They met in the bar, then moved into the beautiful dining room, which had been designed at the turn of the last century to resemble the belowdecks of a ship, and ordered seafood, which seemed appropriate.
“Celeste and I are looking forward to our cruise,” Peter said, “and I know Mom appreciates your keeping it quiet. She has something in mind, but I don’t know what it is.”
“We’ll just wait for the surprise, then.”
“The senator tells me you’re pitching in on his new PAC. I’m very grateful to you, Stone.”
“I’m glad to help. I think it’s a good idea for a wealthy politician not to contribute too visibly to his own campaign, and it’s just as important to adhere to the letter of the campaign laws.”
“I fully intend to do that.”
“When do you expect to announce?”
“Perhaps a year before the election, depending on circumstances.”
“Depending on whether Benton Blake throws in?”
“Ah, the senator told you about the rumor?”
“Yes, and he could be a formidable competitor. After all, the people have already elected him to statewide office twice.”
“I think the divorce is hurting him,” Peter said. “He’s loath to give his wife half his money and a house, but if he stiffs her, it will hurt him at election time.”
“Not a good position to be in,” Stone agreed. “Peter, I’m impressed with your clean record, but there’s something else you should consider.”
“What’s that?”
“What happened in London.”
Peter looked confused. “Did something happen in London?”
“That will be the question on the minds of the operatives who handle Benton’s or your other opponents’ campaigns. You might reflect on those years, as well as those at Princeton and Harvard, and dredge up anything that might be termed misbehavior, especially with regard to women. It would be much easier to deal with such matters now, rather than later.”
“You have a point.”
“For instance, are there any little Peters running around in New Jersey or Cambridge?”
“No, nothing like that. I tend to be a serial monogamist where the ladies are concerned, so there were only a relative few.”
“How about at Oxford, when you were studying there?”
“Ah, I loved English girls.”
“Very many?”
“More than at school in the States. There’s an old joke about what women of different nationalities say immediately after having made love.”
“Tell me.”
“A German girl says, ‘Gut, now let’s have somesing to eat!’ A French girl says, ‘You weel improve wiz practice.’ An American girl says, ‘Now you must think I’m awful.’ But an Engl
ish girl says, ‘There, dear, is that better?’ I like that attitude.”
Stone laughed. “You’ll remember that Jack Kennedy’s older brother, Joe Junior, was killed in an accident during World War Two, when an airplane he was flying that was filled with explosives went off before he could depart the aircraft.”
“Yes, I knew that.”
“One account of that time in his life says he was living with an Englishwoman near his base who had a couple of children and a husband overseas.”
“That, I didn’t know.”
“It’s the sort of thing that, especially in those days, would have come back to haunt him if he had lived to run for President.”
“I see your point, Stone. Don’t worry, the skeletons in my closet are things like the time I got drunk at a Harvard party and threw up on a dean’s shoes.”
Stone laughed. “Well, we all have stories like that.”
“I appreciate your concern, Stone, and I’ll be very careful.”
“Please tell Celeste she needs to be careful, too, and ask her to review her past associations for any sign of trouble.”
“I’ll broach the subject.”
33
Peter Rule had a couple of afternoon meetings with local politicos, then got home around six, to find Celeste hanging pictures in their living room. They kissed.
“Nice,” he said, checking out the art. “Where did these come from?”
“I found them in Dad’s attic,” she said, “just gathering dust. I thought we could make better use of them.”
“I like them,” he said. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Oh, yes, thank you. I’ll get us a snack.” She went into the kitchen and came back with some pâté and crackers.
He handed her her usual scotch, and they settled into the living room sofa. “I had lunch with Stone Barrington today,” he said.
“Oh? Why?”
“I was at the Yacht Club and had some time on my hands, so I called him and he came over. Your dad told me that Stone is going to give a million bucks to the new PAC, and I wanted to thank him.”
“Wow! That’s generous of him.”
“It’s more than he’ll get from fees on our legal work,” Peter said. “He gave me some good advice, too.”