Worst Fears Realized (Stone Barrington 5)

o know where we’re going?” Sarah asked.

“When we get there, not before,” Stone replied. “Just enjoy the countryside; it restores your corpuscles, remember?”

“I can feel them pumping even now.”

In Woodbury, Stone turned left on Highway 47, and a few minutes later they entered Washington Township.

“Oh, Washington!” Sarah enthused. “I spent a weekend here a few years ago; what a lovely place!”

“I’m glad you think so,” Stone said, making a right turn at a sign that read, MAYFLOWER INN. They drove around a pond and up a steep hill, pulling up outside a handsome, shingled building.

“This is lovely,” Sarah said. “How did you find it?”

“It wasn’t hard,” Stone said. “It was voted the best country inn in America last year in some magazine. I clipped the article.”

“Well clipped,” she replied.

Someone took their bags upstairs and let them into a handsomely decorated suite overlooking the rear gardens.

“Have you reserved a dinner table, sir?” the young bellman asked.

“No. Could you do that for me, at eight o’clock?”

“Certainly. You’ll need a jacket, but not necessarily a tie.”

“Thank you.” Stone tipped him generously, and he let himself out of the room. “Well,” Stone said, “we’ve got two hours until dinner; how shall we amuse ourselves?”

Sarah walked into his arms. “I’ll need an hour to bathe and dress. That leaves a whole hour of free, unsupervised time.”

Stone kissed her. “Unsupervised?”

“Well, not entirely,” she said, working on his buttons. “I’ll do the supervising.”

At seven-thirty they walked downstairs, now showered, changed, and entirely relaxed, and entered the handsome bar, taking a table near a window.

“I could live here,” Sarah said. “All I’d need would be this table and the bed upstairs.”

“I’ve heard worse ideas,” Stone agreed.

A young woman appeared. “Would you like a drink, Mr. Barrington?”

Stone nodded at Sarah.

“A vodka gimlet, straight up, shaken very cold, slightly sweet,” she said.

“Two,” Stone replied.

Shortly they were sipping the clear, green-tinted liquid. The waitress returned. “Mr. Barrington, there’s a phone call for you at the front desk.”

“Excuse me,” Stone said to Sarah, taking his drink with him. He went into the front hall and was shown to a phone booth. “Hello?”

“It’s Dino; I hear you’re driving something alarming.”

“Entirely so; I’ll show you the first of the week.”

“Okay; how’d it go with Mitteldorfer?”

“It didn’t.”