Kisser (Stone Barrington 17) - Page 66
“My daughter is too impressed with her father,” Eduardo said, shooting her a glance.
“Did you know he was offered the Presidential Medal of Freedom but declined?”
“I have never wished to be famous,” Eduardo said, “even for a brief moment at the White House.”
“Oh, Daddy, you’re too modest,” Dolce said. “You’ve been to the White House many times to visit half a dozen presidents.”
“But never with television cameras present,” Eduardo pointed out.
“Daddy won’t even allow his photograph in the annual reports of the companies and charitable institutions on whose boards he sits,” she said.
“I admit it, my dear, I am shy,” Eduardo replied. “Now let’s turn the conversation back to you.” He dusted imaginary crumbs from his suit, a rare gesture of irritation.
Dolce looked over her shoulder, and Stone followed her gaze. A large man in a dark suit stood on the back terrace. He looked at his watch. “Oh,” she said, “I’m afraid Alfonzo is becoming impatient. We’re going shopping.”
Stone was startled to think of Dolce roaming Madison Avenue, a free woman, but perhaps Alfonzo could manage her.
“Dolce needs new clothes,” Eduardo explained, “now that she is going out more often.”
Dolce stood. “Perhaps Stone would like to tag along with me sometime.”
Stone stood, too. “I’m afraid I’m rather occupied with someone who wouldn’t understand.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him good-bye. This time her tongue momentarily found Stone’s ear.
“Good-bye, dear Stone.”
“Good-bye, Dolce,” Stone managed to say. He watched her walk away, an inviting performance.
“Sit for a moment more,” Eduardo said, “until she has made her escape.”
Stone sat down, hoping Eduardo did not mean that literally. “She really is looking very well,” he said.
“I think her mental state, particularly her anger, made her seem older,” Eduardo said. “Now that she has been relieved of those tensions, it shows in her demeanor.”
“I suppose so,” Stone said. “How long has she been going out?”
“Only for the past ten days or so,” Eduardo replied. “I am being very careful with her, following the advice of her psychiatrist, who is a sensible woman.”
“I wish I could have helped her,” Stone said.
“No one could have helped her in those days, Stone,” Eduardo said. “And I would not wish you to feel that you must try again.”
“Thank you, Eduardo,” Stone said. “I must go now, but it has been a very great pleasure to see you, and I’m glad that Dolce is making such a good recovery.” He stood and took Eduardo’s hand again.
“I think seeing you was good for her,” Eduardo said, “and I’m glad we had an opportunity to talk about Sharpe and Larsen.”
“So am I. I will take your advice to heart.” Stone walked back to the terrace and through the house. The butler was there to open the front door for him. He got into his car and began the drive back to Manhattan.
He had calls to make now, after Eduardo’s warning about Sharpe. Previously, he had been concerned only about Hildy Parsons with regard to her fortune. Now, it seemed, she was in more immediate danger. So, indeed, was Mitzi Reynolds, above and beyond the call of her duty. Sharpe needed to be shut down quickly and Larsen with him, and not by just a loss of reputation.
Beyond those thoughts, a knot had been forming in Stone’s stomach, and he searched for the reason. Then he remembered: Dolce, when told he was seeing someone, had said, “I know.”
Stone’s heart thudded in his chest, and his hands made the steering wheel slippery.
31
STONE PUT THE CAR in the garage and went quickly to his office. Several message slips were on his desk, among them one from Brian Doyle at the downtown precinct. He called the number.
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