Cold Paradise (Stone Barrington 7)

“A gold necklace and a gold bracelet, I think with diamonds. Nothing flashy, though.”

“How about her speech; any sort of accent? Southern? Midwestern?”

“American. No accent that caught my attention.”

Stone got into his coat, and they left the hotel. “Right across the street, there,” he said, pointing to the shop. He led the way, avoiding ice patches and slush in the gutters. “Don’t you have a coat?” he asked.

“It’s in the car,” Shames said, nodding at a stretched black Mercedes that was making a U-turn, following them.

Stone held the shop door open for Shames, then pointed the way upstairs. They emerged onto the second floor and went into the shirt and tie room.

“Gosh!” Shames said. “I’ve never seen so many colors. You pick out something for me.”

“What size?”

“Sixteen. The sleeves usually aren’t long enough for me.”

“These will be pretty long,” Stone said. A salesman showed them the sixteens. Stone riffled through them and picked out a blue-and-white narrow-striped shirt. “How about this?”

“Fine.”

Stone picked out a tie and a complementary silk pocket square and handed them to a saleslady. “Send these down to the shoe shop, please.” He led the way back downstairs to the shoe shop.

“This is a really nice place,” Shames said, looking around.

“You’d never heard of it?”

“No, and it’s right across the street from the hotel, too.”

A salesman approached, and Stone helped the man choose some dignified oxfords and some socks.

Shames handed the man a credit card.

“There’s a dressing room,” Stone said, pointing. “Why don’t you put those things on?” He waited, and when Shames returned, he had made a mess of tying the tie. Stone retied it for him and stuffed the silk handkerchief into his breast pocket. “You could pass for a captain of industry,” Stone said. “That’s a really nice suit.”

“I had it made in London. This is the only time I’ve worn it.” Shames signed the credit card chit and checked himself out in a mirror. “Something doesn’t look quite right,” he said. “What is it?”

“There’s a barbershop at the Waldorf,” Stone replied, glancing at his watch. “Make the crowd wait for you.”

“Okay, I guess I could use a trim.”

They stepped back into the street, where the Mercedes was waiting. “Ride down to the Waldorf with me,” Shames said. “You can drop me, and the car will take you to your place to pack and then to the airport.”

“Sorry?” Stone said, getting into the car. He wasn’t sure he had understood.

“To Teterboro. My airplane is out there.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, you’ll have to go to Palm Beach.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s where she is. Didn’t I mention that?”

“I don’t believe you did,” Stone said. “Why do you think she’s in Palm Beach?”

“I ran into a guy I know at dinner last night who was at the party in the Hamptons. He recognized her at LaGuardia yesterday. She was boarding a flight for Palm Beach.”