Bel-Air Dead (Stone Barrington 20)

“I have not been able to decide whether I should be concerned or merely baffled.”

She laughed again. “You and I may soon be doing business,” she said, “and while I don’t want to go into that on this occasion, I do want you to know that what I have heard of you is favorable, and I don’t want you to be alarmed about my presence in town at this moment.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what any of that means,” Stone replied. Had she really gained a favorable impression of him by dining with Terry Prince? That seemed unlikely in the extreme.

“I’m sorry to be mysterious, but you will know more soon. Now I must go. Goodbye.” She hung up.

Stone sat with the phone still in his hand, wondering what had just happened. He called Ed Eagle.

“Hello, Stone.”

“Ed, I’ve just had the most extraordinary phone call from your ex-wife.”

“What?”

“She called me just a moment ago.”

“For God’s sake, why?”

“I have no idea; I hardly understood anything she said, except that she seemed to want to be reassuring.”

“Reassuring about what?”

“I’m not sure. I think she may be mixed up with Terry Prince in the Centurion deal.”

“Believe me,” Eagle said, “if she is, then you should not take that as reassuring.”

“But if she is in bed with Prince, why would she call and say that she has a good opinion of me?”

“Stone, I would normally say that anyone of whom Barbara has a good opinion is not worth knowing or is, at the very least, someone to steer clear of.”

“She must understand that if she’s in bed with Prince, I’m her opponent.”

“Being Barbara’s opponent is a dangerous position to hold,” Eagle said. “I warn you to proceed with extreme caution, should you find yourself dealing with her.”

“That seems like sound advice, coming from someone who should know.”

“You are correct,” Eagle said. “If she should communicate with you again, I urge you to call me for advice, and whatever you do, don’t make her angry. She is thin-skinned, and there are people whose conduct she has taken amiss who are now no longer with us. I count myself very nearly among that lot.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stone said.

“I have to run, Stone. Watch yourself.” Eagle hung up.

Stone sat there, more baffled than before.

The shadows lengthened, and Stone still sat there alone. Arrington was, apparently, having a long afternoon nap, and Dino had not reappeared. Then Manolo came striding onto the patio, followed by Rick Barron.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone,” the butler said, “Mr.

Barron for you.”

Stone stood and shook Rick’s hand and took the opportunity to examine him closely. He looked very tense. “Please sit down, Rick,” he said, wondering if it were a good idea to offer a man of his age a drink at this time of day.

“May I have a large scotch?” Rick asked.

Problem solved, Stone nodded to Manolo, who went in search of whisky and returned shortly with a glass.

Rick took a deep draught of the scotch. “I just had a call from the attorney for Jennifer Harris’s estate,” he said. “The trustees ordered him to accept the offer for her stock without waiting for further bids. We’ve lost it.”