Loitering With Intent (Stone Barrington 16)

“Don’t move,” Stone said. He got up and started walking toward the door.

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STO N E B U R S T O U T the door and saw a beautiful little 32-footer moored at the end of the outer dock. Evan Keating was standing in the cockpit, looking at him. Stone hurried over and stepped aboard. Evan pointed at a cockpit seat, and Stone sat down. “How long have you been here?”

“Just a couple of minutes. I came in for fuel, but they don’t have fuel here.”

“I guess you’ll have to go down to Key West Bight.”

“What’s up?”

“First of all,

the managing partner of my law fi rm got your grandfather out of the nursing home where your father had imprisoned him. He’s at home and being taken care of by his old secretary.”

“Hey, that’s great,” Evan said, without much enthusiasm. “What else?”

“It appears that your father may be trying to hire somebody to kill you.”

This got Evan’s full attention. “Why do you think that?”

“Because someone sounding like him, New England accent and 1 2 7

S t u a r t W o o d s

all, called a private investigator of my acquaintance and inquired about having a dirty job done. Earlier, your father had hired him to fi nd you.”

“That sounds like the old man,” Evan said. “Any details of who he hired and how he plans to do it?”

“No, the P.I. hung up on him when it became obvious what he wanted.”

“And you don’t know if he found somebody else?”

“You know your father better than I—is he the sort of man who would stop with one attempt?”

Evan thought about that. “No, he isn’t.”

“Then, if I were you, I’d start watching my back.”

“That’s my job,” a female voice said.

Stone looked up to see Gigi Jones stepping out of the cabin, almost dressed in a tiny bikini that showed everything to great effect. “Yes, I’ve had some experience of that,” he said. “I’m glad I’m seated with my back to the water.”

Gigi giggled. “Don’t be nervous, Mr. Barrington. It appears we’re on the same side, both dedicated to keeping Evan alive.”

“I guess,” Stone said, then he turned back to Evan. “There’s more: Your grandfather likes the idea of selling the company, so he’s taking over negotiations himself. He’d like very much to hear from you. Will you call him?”

“Sure,” Evan said. “I’ve got nothing against him. Why do you think my father wants me dead?”

“You’ve seen the number on the sales contract,” Stone said. “Do you think he would kill you for your third of eight hundred million dollars?”

Evan shrugged. “I guess that’s motive enough. He’d kill my grandfather for that, too.”

“But then why would he bother to put him in a nursing home?

Also, if you’re right about his poisoning your Uncle Harry, then he might hesitate to kill your grandfather, too.”