She buzzed him. “There’s a man on the phone named Creighton Adams, says you’ve met. He’s a lawyer in Rhode Island?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll talk to him.” Stone punched the button. “Good morning, Creighton.”
“Good morning, Stone. I’m afraid I have sad news.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Mildred Strong died last night.”
Stone was stunned. “She seemed so well when we met. What happened?”
“It was an embolism. Her doctor had found it in a scan some weeks ago. It was operable, but she refused the surgery. Said she didn’t want to be that sick at this time of her life. So she just carried on until it burst as she was leaving a dinner party last night.”
“She was such a remarkable woman,” Stone said, genuinely sad. “She sent me some wines from her cellar. They arrived only a few minutes ago. I had already written her a note.”
“That was like her: She was given to bursts of generosity, especially after she knew she might die at any moment.”
“Thank you for letting me know, Creighton. I’d like to attend her funeral or memorial service. Will you let me know when that is?”
“Of course. Now to business. I’ve written you a letter that will be delivered tomorrow, but I’ll give you a day’s head start. Please inform your client, Mr. Cabot, that he has ten days to pay the remaining nineteen million dollars called for in his contract with Mrs. Strong. Please tell him that we must be strict about the deadline.”
“Certainly, I’ll tell him,” Stone said. “And thank you again for calling me.” He hung up and sat there a while, thinking of Mildred Strong and her amazing generosity. He was glad to have had the experience of knowing her.
Then something else occurred to him. He hoped Charlie Crow hadn’t heard about her death, yet. It would be like him to stop payment on his half-million-dollar check.
50
Stone dialed Barton Cabot’s cell number, since he didn’t know if He was back in Connecticut yet.
“Hello?”
“Barton, it’s Stone.”
“Good morning, Stone.”
“Not so good; I have sad news.”
“What?”
“Mildred Strong died last night. Creighton Adams called me a couple of minutes ago.”
Silence.
“Barton?”
“I’m here; I’m just stunned.”
“So am I. She seemed so healthy, but Creighton said she’d known for some weeks that she had an embolism, and she elected not to have the surgery.”
“So she knew she was going to die.”
“Yes, but she didn’t know when.”
“That’s why she did the deal with me.”
“Someone once said that the foreknowledge of death concentrates the mind. I guess she wanted to get her affairs in order.”
“I last saw her at five o’clock yesterday, after we’d finished photographing everything. She seemed just fine.”