She fished a card from her bag and handed it to him. “See that you do.”
He put the card into his jacket pocket.
“What is it with this DIRT thing?” she asked.
“Where’d you hear about it?”
“Vance had a copy in his pocket on Saturday night, the one about Amanda’s little hotel rendezvous.”
“Oh, that one.”
“She hired you to run it down, then, like the sheet says?”
“I couldn’t confirm that, even if she had.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not a blabbermouth.”
“By the way, did you know that you made the latest edition of DIRT?”
Her eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
He produced last night’s fax and handed it to her. She read it with bated breath.
“Jesus, that was fast, wasn’t it?”
“It was.”
“At least it didn’t mention my name.”
“I wonder why,” he said.
“Why do you think?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It would seem that the publisher’s information was good enough to do so, if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He did pay you the compliment of calling you bright, though.”
“How would he know?”
“Maybe the publisher is somebody who knows you. Did you tell anybody you were going to the dinner party?”
“No; Vance only called me on Friday, and he didn’t say who’d be there, except for Amanda.”
“What did you think of Amanda?”
“I think she’s predatory,” Arrington said.
Stone’s ears were burning, and he hoped she didn’t notice. “I don’t really know her well enough to confirm that,” he lied.
“Trust me; a girl knows about these things.”
“I think I do trust you. Why do you think that is?”
She smiled. “Because you have good judgment.”
As they left the restaurant, she immediately flagged down a cab.
“I was hoping we could spend the day together,” Stone said.
“Sorry, I’ve got plans. I’d like to see you soon, though; will you call me?”