Bel-Air Dead (Stone Barrington 20)

Rick suddenly looked closer to his age.

“I believe her heart is with you,” Stone said, “and I will do everything I can to swing her shares to you. I’m afraid that’s all I can say, at the moment.”

“I see,” Rick replied.

“Please don’t be disheartened,” Stone said. “This could still work out. When is the new offer expected?”

“Early next week.”

“So we have a week or so to make it work.”

“Yes, I suppose we do.”

“Charlene, are you acquainted with any of the stockholders whom you might be able to swing our way?”

“I’ve pretty much done what I can,” Charlene replied.

Somebody’s cell phone rang. Rick Barron looked at his phone and stood up. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, then left the room.

Charlene turned her attention to Stone. “It’s good to see you,” she said. “I hope we can get together while you’re here. It’s been too long.”

Stone knew from experience exactly what “get together” meant to Charlene, and he hoped his health was up to it. “It certainly has been too long,” he said. “I’d like that.”

Rick returned to the study and sat down heavily in his chair. “Jennifer Harris is dead,” he said.

Stone and Charlene looked at him.

“How?” Charlene asked.

“I don’t know; the police are at her house.”

“Do you know what her will says about the stock?”

“No,” Rick replied. “She seemed in perfect health.”

Stone rose. “I think we’d better talk again, when you have more information. I hope we can get a grip on this.”

Everybody went home, and Stone returned to the guesthouse, where Dino was watching television.

“Nothing’s on at the right time out her

e,” he said. “The TV schedule is crazy.”

“That’s not all that’s crazy,” Stone said.

6

Stone awoke to the hum of his cell phone on the bedside table. He tried to turn over to pick it up, but he was impeded by an arm across his chest. He looked that way to see a tousled head of blonde hair on the pillow next to him.

His memories of the night before were hazy, involving arms, legs, and various other body parts in interesting, sometimes contorted positions and some loud noises. He lifted the arm and grabbed the phone.

“Hello,” he croaked.

“God, you sound awful,” Bill Eggers said.

“What time is it?”

“It’s after nine… oh, I forgot, it’s three hours earlier out there, isn’t it?”