Strategic Moves (Stone Barrington 19)

“Anybody hungry?” Stone asked, picking up a menu.

“Sure,” Dino replied.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Eggers said.

“Well,” Stone said, “I hope your digestion improves quickly, because I’m starved.” He wasn’t about to ask if something was troubling Eggers.

Eggers fingered the menu, then set it down. “I have heard a rumor, Stone, that you may somehow be connected with a Mercedes automobile that somehow found its way into a Rye swimming pool.”

Stone looked at him askance. “You think I’ve been running around Westchester County, driving expensive automobiles into swimming pools? I assure you, my Mercedes is cozily tucked into my garage at home and has not been out for days.”

“I saw something about that on TV,” Dino said innocently.

“There’s all sorts of strange stuff on TV these days,” Stone replied. “Probably some reality show gone wrong.”

“I’ve heard it was a different kind of show gone wrong,” Eggers said. “And I’m concerned that my firm’s putative next partner might be associated with such a stunt. Dr. Holland, owner of the pool in question, is a client of the firm, and he is not as amused as everyone else in the country to find a large chunk of twisted steel in his pool. He is having to remove extensive plantings in his garden in order to get a crane in position to hoist the thing onto a flatbed truck, and there are questions as to whether his insurance covers falling German hardware.”

“Bill, please tell me exactly what you have heard about my alleged connection to this event and from whom you have heard it.”

“I have told you all I can.”

“Then I will have to decline to comment on apparently baseless charges and rumors promulgated by anonymous individuals.”

“It was Lance Cabot,” Eggers said.

“Ah, then you must know that, in the extremely unlikely event I had any connection whatever to this weird occurrence, my relationship with Lance’s employer would prevent me from either confirming or denying such an allegation, and Lance must know that, too.”

“All right, Stone,” Eggers said, “take a moment to muster all your lawyerly command of the language to craft a statement that will place you at a sufficient distance from my client’s perfectly understandable curiosity about the orig

ins of this event, something I can repeat to him.”

Stone thought for a moment. “All right, you may quote me as saying that I have not now nor have I ever caused an automobile to fly through the air and into your client’s swimming pool, nor have I had any opportunity to prevent such a happening. And, when you have finished telling your client that, you may tell Lance Cabot, in the nicest possible way, to go fuck himself. If I should see Lance before you do, I’ll tell him myself.”

“I’ll have the spaghetti carbonara,” Eggers said to the hovering waiter.

“Make that two,” Dino said.

“I’ll have Barry’s secret strip steak, medium rare, with fries and haricots verts,” Stone said. “And bring us a bottle of the Mondavi Cabernet that you are always out of.”

“We’re out of that,” the waiter replied.

“Then make it the Phelps Cabernet.”

“We’ve got that,” the waiter replied, then departed.

“So, Stone,” Eggers said, “what beautiful woman are you seeing these days?”

“The last beautiful woman I was seeing was murdered in her own home not very long ago,” Stone said, “and my desire to see another has not yet overcome that circumstance.”

“Murdered by whom?” Eggers asked.

“Ask Dino; he’s the cop at the table.”

“Dino?”

“My money’s on her nephew or his girlfriend or both,” Dino said.

“You have any evidence to back that up?” Stone asked.