Stone signaled to the headwaiter. “I’m not feeling very well,” he said. “Would you please ask my dinner companion, Miss Tierney, to phone me in my suite?”
“Of course, Mr. Smithwick,” the man said. “I hope you feel better.”
“Thank you,” Stone said and got out of the restaurant, taking care not to pass the window on the way to his suite. The phone was ringing as he walked in. “Hello?”
“Jack? Are you all right?”
“Oh, yes, Barbara; I’m so sorry I had to leave. It must have been something I ate at lunch.”
“We had the same thing for lunch, and I’m all right,” she said.
“I’ve been this way a couple of days. Look, would you mind if we had dinner in my suite? If you’re uncomfortable with that I’d be glad to order a car to take you back to the marina, but I do think I should stick close to home this evening.”
“All right,” she said. “How do I find it?”
Stone gave her directions, then hung up, took off his jacket, left the door ajar, and went into the bathroom.
“Jack?” she called from the door.
“Come on in; I won’t be a minute.” He threw some water on his face, then grabbed a towel and walked out, mopping his face dry. “I’m so sorry; I’m all right now, I think.” He motioned to the sofa. “Have a seat.?
?? He handed her a menu. “Would you like a drink?”
“Scotch on the rocks, please,” she replied, and started to look at the menu.
Stone poured her a drink and fixed himself a bourbon.
“Maybe you shouldn’t drink,” she said.
“It’ll be all right.” he replied.
“I’ll have the smoked salmon and the chicken breast,” she said.
Stone phoned in their order and sat down beside her. “So, did Vance Calder remember you?”
“He remembered my friend,” she said. “They do some business together.”
“What business is he in?”
“Finance.”
“What sort of finance?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but he deals in large sums of money. He’s in Mexico right now.”
“Ah.”
“Have you ever been to Mexico?”
“No, and with the state of my innards, I’m not sure I should.”
She laughed and gave him a little kiss. “You know, I think I prefer having dinner here instead of in the restaurant.”
Stone kissed her back. “So do I.”
Sometime after midnight, Stone crept from the bed and tiptoed into the sitting room, leaving Barbara sound asleep. He found her handbag, opened it, and extracted her wallet. Standing next to the window, he used an outside light to illuminate the contents. Her name was really Barbara Tierney, an Illinois driver’s license testified to that, and she really was an actress, according to her Screen Actors Guild card. He replaced the wallet and rummaged around in the bag for a moment longer, but found nothing else of interest, just the usual female detritus. He put the bag back where he’d found it and crept back into bed. Barbara rolled over and reached for him.
“More,” she said.