Hot Mahogany (Stone Barrington 15)
“Of course,” Barton said, accepting the check. “You may have until three o’clock Monday afternoon to move the money, and at that time I’ll provide you with a genuine provenance for the piece. I’m sure you no longer wish to be associated with Charlie’s fraudulent one.” He tucked the documents Mildred had sold Crow into his pocket, along with Kramer’s check.
Cavanaugh and Whately returned to the study. “Beautiful things, Ab,” Cavanaugh said. “I hope you’ll think of giving the museum some of them at some future date.”
“I’ll consider that, Peter,” Kramer said. He seemed to have recovered from the shock of writing the check.
The women rejoined them, and they chatted for another hour, then the guests took their leave.
Back in Barton’s study, Stone took his host aside. “So the secretary you said was made in Charleston was yours all along.”
“Yes,” Barton replied, “it was. I thought I could get more from Ab for the piece by exposing Charlie than by auctioning it.”
“And, of course, you would save the million dollars you promised me for finding it.”
Barton looked stricken. “I really must apologize for that, Stone. I never intended to withhold your reward.”
“Then you won’t mind writing me a check now, will you?”
Barton swallowed hard. “Of course not,” he sighed. He went to his desk, wrote the check and handed it to Stone. “I wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to avoid paying you.”
“Oh, I was certain you wouldn’t do that,” Stone said. He reached into his pocket and removed a small leather pouch and dangled it from its string. “Otherwise, I’d be minting my own very rare twenty-dollar gold pieces.” He dropped the pouch into Barton’s hand. “I found it in a drawer of Ab’s secretary when I was examining it.”
Barton smiled and slipped the die into his own pocket. “Then I think our business is concluded, and now we can concentrate on being friends.”
“I’d like that, Barton,” Stone said, tucking the check away.
EPILOGUE
On Monday morning in New York, after a good breakfast at Stone’s house, Tatiana called her attorney and spoke briefly with him, then hung up the phone. “Henry has agreed to my settlement terms,” she said, smiling. “I think his night in jail made him more reasonable.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” Stone said, kissing her. “You’ll soon be a free woman.”
“I’m looking forward to that,” Tatiana said. “Now, I must go home and get some things done.”
“Dinner tonight?” Stone asked.
“Of course,” she replied. “I’m going to be taking up most of your dinner hours from now on.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Stone replied. He walked her over to her house through the garden and set her luggage in the kitchen, then returned to his own house and went into his office. He read slowly through the Times and stopped at the business section. A headline on the first page caught his eye.
KRAMER COMPANY JOINS DEAL amp; CROW IN REAL ESTATE VENTURE
Abner Kramer, in a fax to this newspaper on Sunday afternoon, announced that he had paid Charles Crow of the new firm of Deal amp; Crow seven million dollars for two hundred thousand of Mr. Crow’s personal shares in the new company, which will have a public offering next month. Observers were surprised at the transaction, since Mr. Crow might have profited by retaining his shares for the IPO.
The rest of the piece didn’t matter. Ab Kramer had extracted his pound of flesh from Charlie Crow’s carcass.
Joan came in with the mail, and Stone handed her Barton Cabot’s check. “Please deposit this,” he said. “Then write Dino a check for two hundred thousand and one to Bob Cantor for fifty thousand. Then give the IRS their share.”
“Good,” Joan said. “What’s left will just about cover the bill on top of your mail.” She went back to her office.
Stone opened the envelope and found the invoice for the conversion of his airplane to a turboprop. Joan was right; what was left of Barton’s money would just about cover it.