Severe Clear (Stone Barrington 24)

on.” There was a click, and Herbie’s secretary answered. “Mr. Fisher’s office.”

“It’s Stone.”

“Oh, yes, he wants to talk to you.”

Herbie came onto the phone. “Hey, Stone.”

“Good morning, Herb.”

“I’ve shunted some work out of the way, so Harp and I are coming out there. I’ve booked us into the Beverly Hills Hotel.”

“Great, Herb. I’ll check with the manager and see if there have been any cancellations.”

“Thanks, Stone. If you can do anything about the Immi Gotham concert, I’d appreciate that, too.”

“That may be one miracle I can’t work,” Stone said, “but I’ll try. What time are you due in?”

“Midafternoon tomorrow.”

“I’ll get back to you.” Stone hung up and called the hotel’s executive director, Morton Kaplan. “Good morning, Mort.”

“Good morning, Stone. I hope everything is all right with your cottage.”

“Everything is absolutely perfect. We had the president and first lady for drinks last evening, and your staff performed beautifully. I wanted to ask a favor, perhaps an impossible one.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“I have a friend and associate at Woodman & Weld coming out tomorrow. He’s booked into the Beverly Hills, but if you should have a cancellation here . . .”

“Hold on a moment and I’ll take a look,” Kaplan said.

Stone heard the sound of a computer keyboard, then Kaplan came back.

“No cancellations, but we have some smaller rooms that are normally for the use of our guests’ air crews or secretaries, and I have one of those available.”

“Wonderful! I’m sure that will be just fine. His name is Herbert Fisher, and his companion’s name is Harp O’Connor.”

“I’ll get their names to the Secret Service for checking, but I’m sure there’ll be no problem. And if we should have a cancellation, I’ll try to improve Mr. Fisher’s accommodations.”

“One other thing: any chance of concert tickets?”

“We can put a couple more chairs in your box.”

“Perfect. Thanks so much, Mort.”

“Would you like your friends met at the airport?”

“Yes, they’re arriving at midafternoon. I’ll get you the flight number.”

“That won’t be necessary. There’ll be a little stand with the hotel’s name on it—tell him to go there, and they’ll have a car for them.”

“Wonderful!” He thanked Kaplan again, then hung up and called Herbie with the news.

“Thank you, Stone,” Herbie said. “Now Harp will think I’m a god.”

36

Peter, Hattie, Ben, and Emma walked through the hotel reception building and out under the portico, where a white Porsche Cayenne with The Arrington’s logo, a gold A on the door, waited, and they got in. Peter took the front passenger seat, and there was plenty of room for the other three in the back.