Hot Mahogany (Stone Barrington 15) - Page 76

“What was the time?”

“He arrived a little after eight and left a little before eleven.”

“Sounds like dinner,” Stone observed.

“Does Charlie Crow sound like the sort of guy an elegant fellow like Kramer would invite to dinner?”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Stone reminded him. “Not even in dinner companions.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just thought you’d like to know.”

“Have you made up with Genevieve?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that she’s talking to me but not sleeping with me.”

“Have you found out what she was pissed off about?”

“Not a clue. I’ve wracked my brain.”

“She’ll get around to telling you, don’t worry.”

Carla stirred next to Stone.

“Gotta run,” Stone said. He hung up and gave his full attention to Carla.

When they had showered and dressed, Carla suddenly said,

“How about a picnic?”

“A picnic? What do you mean?”

“Well, you pack a lunch, put down a blanket in a pretty spot and eat.”

“Oh, that kind of picnic.”

“Is there any other kind?”

“I guess not.”

“Do you know of such a spot?”

Stone thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I do,” he said. “A clearing on a hilltop overlooking a fine landscape and a handsome house in the distance.”

“That should do nicely,” she said.

Stone found an old wicker basket with dishes and silver inside that he had discovered in a closet when he had bought the house. They drove down to the Village Market and bought a chicken, some salads and a cold bottle of wine, and Stone drove them to the hilltop road he had visited with Barton and Holly the week before. He parked the car, and they walked down a path to the little clearing.

“Oh,” she said, regarding the vista, “this is perfect.”

The weather was autumnal, but the sun warmed the clearing. Stone spread a blanket, and Carla busied herself arranging the lunch. “What are these for?” she asked, holding up Stone’s binoculars, which he had placed in the basket.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Sometimes they make the view more interesting.”

They sat cross-legged on the blanket, facing the distant house, ate their chicken and drank their wine. Stone lay back on an elbow and sighed. “This was a wonderful idea,” he said.

Tags: Stuart Woods Stone Barrington Mystery
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