Strategic Moves (Stone Barrington 19)

“Herbie has very good taste in wives, too,” Stone said.

She laughed again. “Thank you, Stone. By the way, I’ve paired you with my aunt at dinner, my mother’s recently widowed sister, Adele. You’re at table number one, with us.”

“How delightful,” Stone said, trying not to clench his teeth.

Stone returned the bride to her new husband and got himself a glass of very good champagne. He sneaked a look at the bottle: Veuve Clicquot Grande Dame. If they were giving this to what looked like about seven hundred people in the ballroom, Jack Gunn had done very well indeed in business.

Stone wandered through the crowd, and they were a very presentable lot. Herbie had fallen into a pot of jam, he figured, and he wondered how long it would take before the boy screwed up.

The orchestra stopped, and a headwaiter took the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “dinner is served.”

Stone found his way to table number one, where he located his place card, between Stephanie and her widowed aunt Adele. The bride arrived with Herbie and introduced her father, Jack, and her mother, Christine, who turned out to be the much younger woman he had seen Gunn dancing with.

“Good to meet you, Stone,” Gunn said in a velvety bass-baritone voice.

“And you, Jack,” Stone replied. He held Stephanie’s chair for her. And turned to find a very beautiful blonde, wearing a gold lamé sheath, standing behind him. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties.

“Good evening,” she said. “I’m Adele Lansdown.” She offered her hand.

Stone took it. “How do you do? I’m Stone Barrington.” He held her chair for her, then sat down, unable to believe his good luck.

“You,” she said, “are apparently the most eligible man at this shindig; otherwise, Stephanie would not have seated you next to me. She’s been trying to fix me up ever since my husband died.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Stone said.

“Well,” Adele replied, “you’re about the only one who is.”

“Was he ill?”

“Only for about three seconds,” Adele replied. “He died of a gunshot wound.”

“Who shot him?” Stone asked.

“I did,” Adele replied.

Stone was taken aback for only a moment. “And yet you are a free woman. Or are you out on bail?”

She laughed. “I was not charged in his death,” she said.

“You must have had a good lawyer.”

“No, I had a black eye and a broken arm—the detectives in charge of the investigation deemed that sufficient evidence that I was defending myself.”

“I used to be a police detective,” Stone said, “and I would never have dreamed of arresting you.”

“Are you still?”

“No, I retired some years ago. I’m an attorney.”

“You went to law school after being a police officer?”

“Before,” Stone said. “I took the bar afterward.”

“At what firm are you?”

“I’m of counsel to Woodman & Weld.”

“A very fine firm,” she said. “I considered hiring them to deal with my husband’s estate.”