Bel-Air Dead (Stone Barrington 20)

“Four thousand!”

“That’s what he said. He’s waiting for an answer from her trustees, and he wanted to give us a chance to match the offer.”

“Then that means that Prince is going to show up on Tuesday and make that offer to all the stockholders.”

“Stone, I told you, the offer isn’t from Prince.”

“Who else could it be?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea, and I’m very worried about it.”

“It doesn’t matter, Rick; we have enough shares on our side to get along without Jennifer Harris’s.”

“There’s something else, Stone.”

Stone felt a trickle of apprehension run down his bowels. “What else, Rick.”

“The attorney intimated that Jim Long’s shares might be in play as well.”

“That’s not possible, and Long knows it,” Stone said. “At least, his attorney, Harvey Stein, does.”

“I hope you’re right, but I just have the feeling that everything is about to go wrong.”

“Then there’s the shareholder who promised to vote with us.”

“Yes, you wouldn’t tell me his name. Maybe you’d better call him and have a chat.”

“I can’t; it’s Sunday, and I don’t have his home number.”

“Is his office number at Centurion?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then I probably have his home number in my book.”

“But if I ask you for that, I’d be violating his confidence, and I can’t call him and ask him for his permission.”

“Stone, there’s nothing wrong with your asking me for somebody’s home number.”

“Tell you what, Rick, can you give me the home numbers of Jim Long, Charlene Joiner, and Jack Schmeltzer? This has nothing to do with what we were talking about.”

“Sure, Stone.” Rick read out the three numbers, and Stone dutifully wrote them down.

“Do you want me to call anybody for you?” Rick asked.

“No, please, don’t. I want to talk to the shareholder and to Harvey Stein. Then I’ll get back to you.”

“I’m at the studio,” Rick said, “on stage four.”

“What are you doing at the studio on a Sunday morning?”

“I’m arranging a little reception for our shareholders,” Rick said. “You’ll see on Tuesday. I’ve got to run.” He hung up.

Stone called Jack Schmeltzer’s home and got an answering machine. “Hello, Jack. It’s Stone Barrington. I’d be grateful if you’d give me a call at the first opportunity.” He left his cell number. Then he called Harvey Stein’s cell, got voice mail, and left the same message. He hung up. He didn’t know what else to do.

Stone and Dino had a late lunch on the patio, and late in the afternoon the house phone rang.

“Hello?”