“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.”