Shoot Him If He Runs (Stone Barrington 14)

“Attorney. You?”

“I had a very nice home improvement business; sold it a couple of years ago and retired. Bored out of my skull, until I went sailing. A friend took me out on the Chesapeake, and I kind of went nuts about it. Excuse me.” He picked up the glass, drank the fizzy liquid, belched, and set the glass down. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’d better rejoin my lady. If you’re around later, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I’d like that,” Stone said.

“You staying here?”

“Yes, cottage number one, down on the beach. Why don’t you both join us for a drink around six?”

“That’s mighty nice of you; let me check with Irene, and I’ll get back to you.” He gave a little wave and went back to his table.

“What do you think?” Stone asked.

“He’s not Teddy, but that was good about asking them for a drink; at least we’ll get to talk to Irene. He’s waving at you.”

Stone looked over at the table. Harry Pitts was making a circle with his thumb and forefinger and nodding, then held up six fingers.

Stone gave an acknowledging wave and turned back to his piña colada. “It would be a plus if they didn’t turn out to be awful bores,” he said.

“I don’t see how anybody who rose as far in the Agency as Irene could turn out to be a bore,” Holly replied.

“Any way you slice it,” Stone said, “she was a bureaucrat.”

10

Their guests arrived at ten minutes past six, laughing. It seemed that they had already had at least one drink, but Stone poured vodka gimlets that he had made the night before and stored in the freezer. Introductions were made.

“So,” Stone said, “are you both from Virginia?”

“How did you know that?” Irene Foster asked.

“Harry said he was from a small town in Virginia that I never heard of.”

“Well, I’m from Virginia, but not from a town you never heard of, or from any other town,” Irene replied, taking a big sip of her gimlet. “I’m a country girl.”

Harry Pitts laughed. “She’s the slickest country girl you ever met,” he said. “She worked for the CIA for more than twenty years.”

“Harry!” Irene exclaimed.

“What’s the matter? Is it still a secret?”

“Sort of,” she muttered.

“It wasn’t a secret when you worked there,” he said. “Why is it a secret now?”

“I’m sorry,” Stone said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not prying,” Irene said. “It’s just that when you work for the Agency for so long, you get used to not discussing your work. I used to tell people I worked for the Agriculture Department; that usually stopped the conversation in its tracks.”

Everybody laughed.

“This is one hell of a good drink,” Harry said, taking another sip and savoring it. “How do you make it?”

“Pour six ounces out of a fifth of vodka, replace it with Rose’s sweetened lime juice, and put it in the freezer until it hurts to hold the bottle. If you make it in a cocktail shaker, you just water it down.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Harry said. “So easy!”

“Certainly is.”