“I pulled up some stuff about Abalone out of our financial database. It’s a cannery, all right, but it’s also a holding company; it owns, among other businesses, twenty-two percent of the stock of the Safe Harbor Bank. It also owns seventy-five percent of Barone Financial Services. Martin Barone owns the other twenty-five percent.”
“A cannery owns a bank and a finance company?”
“You don’t understand. You’ve heard of Warren Buffet?”
“The richest man in America? Sure.”
“His principal holding is Berkshire Hathaway, a textile mill. Years ago he bought the company, and he used it to invest in a lot of other companies, like Coca-Cola, and it’s now worth billions.”
“Yeah? Who owns Abalone Fisheries?”
“Onofrio Ippolito and David Sturmack. It’s their version of Berkshire Hathaway.”
“Ahhhhh.”
“I thought you’d like that.”
“Seems like every time I turn over a rock, Ippolito is under it.”
“What’s your interest in the boat?”
“When your guys spotted Arrington’s car at the marina, a
girl drove it away, and the same girl, I think, is living on the boat. She’s a thing on the side for this Martin Barone, who’s married. Will you see what you can dig up on Barone?”
“I can find out if he has a sheet.”
“Thanks.” Stone took some prefolded hundreds from his pocket and slipped them into Grant’s jacket pocket. “Something on account.”
“I thank you.”
“By the way, I dropped by Vincent Mancuso’s deli on the Strip yesterday; I’d give you odds he’s running a book out of there.”
“I’ll mention it to the relevant squad,” Grant said. “Stone, something’s been bothering me.”
“What’s that?”
“This business of Mancuso being in your hotel room.”
“Bothers me, too.”
“You moved there from the girl’s house, right? Calder’s secretary?”
“Right.”
“Who else knew you moved in there?”
“My secretary, Dino, and a lawyer friend in New York.”
“And neither Dino or your lawyer friend would have mentioned it to somebody who knows Mancuso, would they?”
“Unlikely in the extreme.”
“That leaves the girl.”
Stone shook his head. “I’ve thought about this. I think I was followed to the hotel by Mancuso and his buddy.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Grant said, reaching into a pocket, “here’s Mancuso’s mug shot.”