Bel-Air Dead (Stone Barrington 20)

“Better than okay,” Stone said.

“Did you save Centurion?” Charlene asked.

“Not yet, but that’s next on my to-do list.”

When Stone and Dino left Charlene’s house, there were two men in the front garden and an unmarked van parked out front.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” one of the men said. “May I see some

ID?”

They both complied.

“Charlene doesn’t waste any time, does she?” Dino said as they got into the car.

“Never, on any occasion, about anything,” Stone replied.

16

They arrived back at the Bel-Air house. Stone was having a second cup of coffee by the pool when his cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Mike Freeman, Stone.”

“Hello, Mike.”

“I have some preliminary results on the two background checks you asked us to do, on Prince’s chauffeur and executive assistant.”

“Shoot.”

“The chauffeur’s name is Alexei Popov, thirty-one years of age, born Ukraine, emigrated to this country with his parents at age thirteen. He has a juvenile record, now sealed, with charges of vandalism, auto theft and-always a bad sign-cruelty to animals. We couldn’t get the details. He was also charged with a murder-for-hire three years ago, before he went to work for Terrence Prince, but the case against him was dismissed in mid-trial when the main witness against him vanished.”

“Uh-oh,” Stone said.

“Exactly. Now, about Carolyn Blaine: she doesn’t exist.”

“Beg pardon?”

“She owns no property in Los Angeles, has no telephone listing, no registered vehicle, no credit record, and no one by that name has been divorced in L.A. County for the past five years.

The educational institutions you named-Miss Porter’s School, Mount Holyoke, and Wharton have no record of attendance by anyone of that name.”

“Well, well,” Stone said. “I wonder if Mr. Prince is aware that his trusted assistant doesn’t exist.”

“If you like, I can have her followed by someone who might get her fingerprints at some point, and we can run them. That might give us something more to go on.”

“Please do,” Stone said.

“I’ll get back to you.” Both men hung up.

“Dino?” Stone said.

Dino looked up from the New York Times. “Yeah?”

“Terrence Prince’s driver is now a suspect in the death of Jennifer Harris. Can you drop the dime on him with your friend Sergeant Rivera?”

“Sure,” Dino replied. “What evidence can I give him to support a charge?”

“No evidence, just an educated guess.”