Bel-Air Dead (Stone Barrington 20)

“You understand that if Mrs. Calder decides not to sell you her shares, you won’t get the property?”

Prince allowed himself a small smile. “I don’t really think that’s going to be a problem,” he said.

Stone was stunned. This sort of confidence he had not expected, and there was nowhere for this conversation to go until he knew why Prince was not worried. He took another sip of his iced tea and set the glass on its coaster. “Well, I won’t trouble you further, Mr. Prince,” he said, rising and offering his hand.

“Thank you for seeing me on no notice.”

Prince shook Stone’s hand. “Any time at all,” he replied. “Carolyn, would you please escort Mr. Barrington to the elevator?”

“Oh, I wonder if I might call a taxi,” Stone said. “A friend dropped me here and took my car.”

“Carolyn, call down for my car and have Mr. Barrington delivered to…” He raised his eyebrows.

“Bel-Air,” Stone said. “That’s very kind of you.”

“It just sits in the garage until I need it,” Prince said, “and I won’t need it until this evening. If you have any shopping to do or other calls to make, please keep the car until seven, if you like.”

“Thank you again,” Stone said, then followed the gorgeous Carolyn out of the office and to the elevator. She stopped there.

“It will be only a moment,” she said. “Do you have friends in L.A., Mr. Barrington?” she asked.

“A few.”

“Would you like to have dinner with me while you’re here?”

“That would be very pleasant,” Stone replied, surprised, then he thought about it for a second. “Tell me,” he said, “will this dinner be tax-deductible for Mr. Prince?”

She gave a little laugh. “No, this isn’t business, just pleasure, and neither Mr. Prince nor I will be paying.” She handed him a card. “This is my address; eight o’clock tonight?”

The elevator arrived, and Stone stepped aboard. “Book us into your favorite restaurant,” he said, then the doors closed and Stone left his stomach on a high floor as the car plummeted to the lobby.

He walked out of the skyscraper to find a bright, silver Bentley Mulsanne awaiting him. A man with a shaved head in a black suit and tie held the door open for him. The car had only recently been introduced and Stone hadn’t seen one yet, so he had a good look around it before he got in.

The driver slid into the front seat and closed his door, sealing out all sound from Wilshire Boulevard. “Where may I take you, Mr. Barrington?” he asked.

Stone gave him the address of the Bel-Air house.

“No shopping?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for shopping,” Stone replied. “How do you like the car?”

“It’s superb,” the man replied. “Mr. Prince had an Arnage before, but this one is a considerable improvement in every way.”

Stone electrically adjusted his seat and settled in for the ride. “What else does Mr. Prince drive?” he asked.

“He has an Aston-Martin DBS for the occasions when he drives himself,” the man replied.

“He has good taste in cars,” Stone said.

“In everything,” the man replied.

As they approached the house, Stone gave the driver the code for the gate, and he was dropped at the front door. He thanked the driver and walked into the house, which seemed deserted, although he knew that Manolo was somewhere nearby. Dino was not back yet, and Stone changed into a swimsuit and took a plunge in the large pool. He swam a few laps, then put on a robe, and settled into a chaise longue, just as his phone buzzed.

“Hello?”

“It’s Eggers,” he said.

“Good afternoon,” Stone replied. “You still at the office?”