Cold Paradise (Stone Barrington 7)

“How did he sound?”

“Nice, at first, then insistent. He was very annoyed that I wouldn’t tell him where you were.”

“And he wouldn’t leave a number?”

“No, but I nailed him on caller ID. The first two times he called from the Brooke Hotel, on Park Avenue.”

“Did the readout give a room number?”

“No, just the phone number. I called it and got the hotel operator. Then, after that when he called, the caller ID didn’t report a number, said it was outside the area or something.”

“When were the first phone calls?”

“Thursday and Friday.”

“Okay, if he calls back again, give him my cell phone number.”

“You sure? I have this creepy feeling.”

“I’m sure. He won’t know where I am.”

“Okay.”

“Anything else?”

“Everything else seems normal,” she said.

“Talk to you later, then.” He hung up and thought about the calls for a few minutes, then he dialed the number of Bob Berman, an ex-cop who sometimes undertook investigative work for him, particularly work that Stone could pretend not to know about.

“Hello,” Bob said.

“Hi, it’s Stone.”

“How you doing?”

“Pretty good. I’m in Florida at the moment.”

“You’re just trying to hurt me, aren’t you?”

“Yes. You up for some work?”

“Sure. What you got?”

“I’ve had a couple of phone calls that are worrying Joan. The first two came from the Brooke Hotel, on Park—she got that from caller ID. You know anybody at the Brooke? Maybe somebody in security, an ex-cop?”

“Nah, not a soul. You got a room number?”

“No.”

“Could the calls have come from a pay phone?”

“No, the number reported was the hotel’s.”

“Would the guest list for that time help?”

“Maybe,” Stone said. “How hard would it be to get it?”

“I might be able to hack into their computer,” Bob replied. “Depends on how tough their security fire wall is. My guess is, if a travel agent can get in to check availability, I can get in. I know a guy at the phone company. He can give me a list of all their lines. Probably cost five hundred, though.”