“I’ve had a busy morning,” Stone said. “Lots happening.”
“Lots happening here, too. Somebody broke into the offices last night.”
Stone sat up. “A burglar?”
“I don’t think so; it was too subtle. I called Bob Cantor; he’s here now and wants to speak to you.” Bob Cantor was a retired cop who often did technical work for Stone.
“Put him on,” Stone said. He heard a click. “Bob?”
“Yeah, Stone; somebody gave your place a good going over last night.”
“Anything missing?”
“A lot of information, I suspect. It was a real pro job. They even got into Joan’s safe and yours, too.”
“You know, Bob, I’m going to have to hire somebody to get in there and install a top-notch security system,” he said, archly. Bob had installed his current system.
“You’ve already got a top-notch system, Stone, or we wouldn’t know how far these people got. As it was, if you’d been here, you’d have gotten half a dozen alarms on your phone system, but since neither you nor Joan was in the house, and since you wouldn’t let me install a police alert, it didn’t matter what they set off.”
“All right, all right, Bob. You’re right, it’s my fault.”
“As long as I’m here I want to update some things about the system, and I want you to spring for the high-def cameras, too. That way, if
they come back, I’ll have a few surprises for them.”
“Good idea, go ahead.”
Joan came back on the phone. “Any idea who’s behind this?” she asked.
“Yes, I have an idea; it’s this guy Prince. It’s funny, but I’ve just put Strategic Services onto him, though I didn’t tell them to break into his offices.”
“That was sweet of you.”
“If there’s nothing missing, then there’s no harm done,” Stone said. “Just relax and let Bob do his work; he’s going to beef up the system and install some cameras, so don’t start running around the office naked, unless you want me to have you on tape.”
“I’ll try and restrain myself,” she said. “Bye-bye.”
Stone hung up, and his cell phone vibrated on the table. “Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Rick Barron. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner; Glenna and I have been at our place in Santa Barbara for a couple of days.”
“Good morning, Rick. I have some news on the death of Jennifer Harris.”
“Good.”
“I’m sorry to tell you she was murdered, Rick.”
“My God! How?”
“Ice pick into the brain from the back of the neck, above the hairline. It was a professional job; the killer took the trouble to seal the wound with spirit gum, so the ME wouldn’t notice it, but Sergeant Rivera had already alerted him to be thorough.”
“I’m having trouble believing this,” Rick said.
“I think it’s important that you find out what her will says with regard to her Centurion stock,” Stone said. “Can you do that?”
“I know her lawyer,” Rick replied. “He might tell me.”
“Will you let me know what he says?”