“Is my massage over?” he whispered.
“Not by a long shot,” she whispered back.
“By the way, what’s Jonathan’s last name?”
“Dryer.”
That rang a bell somewhere with Stone, but at the moment, his mind was elsewhere.
Chapter 34
Amanda rode up Madison Avenue in the back of the Mercedes. “Paul,” she said, “we’re going to pick up a gentle man at Madison and Seventy-second, left-hand side, near the corner.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Paul replied.
“I’m going to want to go someplace nearby, park for a few minutes and have a private chat with him. Can you think of a good place?”
“There’s a place in the park,” Paul said.
“That will be fine; better get in the left-hand lane.” Amanda put the armrest down to separate her from her unwanted guest, pressed a switch that put up the sunscreen on the rear window, for privacy, and eyed the corner ahead. “That must be him,” she said. “The one in the raincoat.” She had no idea what Allan Peebles looked like, but this was the only lone man on the corner. The car rolled to a stop, and Amanda pressed the window button.
The man leaned over and looked into the car. “Amanda?”
“Get in,” she replied. The car turned left on 72nd and headed for Central Park.
“I’m Allan Peebles,” he said, extending his hand.
She shook it perfunctorily, then held a finger to her lips for silence.
Halfway through the park, Paul pulled off the road into a small lot for maintenance vehicles and stopped.
“Give us a few minutes, Paul,” Amanda said.
Paul got out of the car and walked twenty yards to a bench and sat down, still in view of the car.
“Now,” said Amanda, “what do we have to talk about?”
“I’ve always been an admirer of your column,” Peebles said.
“I wish I could say the same.” She glanced at her watch.
“All right, I’ll get to the point: Why do you suppose you and I have been targeted by this scandal sheet?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” she said. “After all, Richard Hickock has been targeted, too, and Stone Barrington has been mentioned more than once, as well as Vance Calder.”
“With the possible exception of Calder, who was probably an innocent bystander, everybody is connected.”
“Connected? How could I possibly be connected with you?”
“We’re both published by the same people, in a manner of speaking.”
“What on earth are you talking about? I’m published and syndicated by Dick Hickock’s company. Stone isn’t published by anybody.”
“Barrington doesn’t really come into it, except as your surrogate.”
“What was that you were saying about ‘the same people’?”
Peebles smiled slightly. “You really don’t know, do you?”