Dead in the Water (Stone Barrington 3)

“Oh, you must have lunched very well indeed,” Hewitt said. “Winston always lays on a good spread with the taxpayers’ money.” He looked at Stone. “What did he want?”

“I was hoping you, with your knowledge of the locals, could tell me. We ended up shouting at each other.”

“Stone, I must tell you that in St. Marks, we place the highest possible value on civility among members of the bar. You should not have shouted at Winston.”

“I’m sorry, but he shouted first…sort of.”

“Winston is not a man to be dallied with,” Hewitt said.

“I didn’t dally with him.”

“He could be a very dangerous man to insult. I hope you did not insult him.”

“I tried not to, but he really began to get up my nose.”

“I sincerely hope he does not decide to retaliate,” Hewitt said sadly. “It could be the end of Allison.”

“Oh, Jesus, Leslie, don’t tell me that,” Stone moaned.

“Tell you what?” Hewitt said.

“Tell me…” He looked closely at the old man. His eyes had taken on that glazed look again. “Oh, never mind.”

Allison came out the back door and came to the table.

“I’m afraid that was as long as I could take in the powder room,” she said. “I did everything I could think of.”

Stone stood up. “We have to be going,” he said.

“Oh, don’t go,” Hewitt cried. “Please introduce me to this beautiful young woman.”

Allison turned and looked closely at Hewitt. “What?”

“Leslie,” Stone said, “thank you for your hospitality, but we have to go now. We’ll see you soon.” He took the protesting Allison by the arm and steered her through the house. In the cab he leaned back and wiped his face with his handkerchief.

“What was that all about?” Allison demanded. “What did he mean, introduce me? Doesn’t he know who I am anymore?”

“Allison, please be quiet until we get to the yacht,” Stone said through clenched teeth, pointing at the driver. They made the rest of the trip in silence.

Back aboard Expansive, Allison practically stamped her foot. “Now tell me, what was that all about?”

“You first,” Stone said, getting himself a beer from the fridge. “What were you doing at Leslie’s house?”

“He invited me to lunch,” she said, “and sent a taxi for me.”

“Allison, I don’t want you ever to meet alone with Leslie again.”

“And why not? Isn’t he representing me?”

“He is a consultant; I am representing you. Leslie is not…the man he once was.”

“Is that why he didn’t seem to recognize me?”

“Yes.”

“You mean he’s…gaga?”

“At times.”