YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE
Stone stared at the message, rereading it.
“Mr. Barrington,” Joan said. “Are you all right? You’ve turned pale.”
Stone realized that he felt pale. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Is it bad news?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “Will you wait right here, Joan? Whatever you do, don’t leave the house or go near the front door.”
“All right,” she said, looking at him curiously.
Stone went to his study and called Dino on his private line.
“Bacchetti.”
“Dino, it’s Stone.”
“Morning. You feeling better?”
“I was until a minute ago.”
Dino’s voice changed. “What’s happened?”
“I’ve had a message from our perp.” Stone read the telegram. “It was pushed through the mail slot five minutes ago.”
“Hang on,” Dino said, putting him on hold.
Stone waited, feeling a little sick at the thought of what he might have gotten Joan Robertson into.
“You there?” Dino asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ve put out a new APB in your neighborhood,” he said. “I don’t know what else I can do.”
“There is something else,” Stone said.
“Shoot.”
“I’ve made a big mistake. When Alma was killed, Bill Eggers offered to send somebody over to help out until I can hire a new secretary. She arrived this morning; I had completely forgotten about it.”
“Oh, shit,” Dino said.
“Exactly.”
“We’re going to have to get her out of there,” Dino said.
“What do you suggest?”
Dino thought for a minute. “Can a car get into that garage of yours?”
“Yes. I was thinking of buying a car, and I moved a lot of boxes out of the way.”
“I’ll send an unmarked car over there; you watch for them and open the garage. They can pull inside, then you can put your lady in the backseat, and they can drive her somewhere. I’ll tell them to make sure they’re not followed.”
“Very good,” Stone replied. “Have them call me when they turn into the block.”
“Right.”
Stone hung up and went back to the kitchen. “Joan, I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to use you – not for a while, anyway.”
“Whatever you say,” she replied, standing up.
“No, have a seat. A car is being sent to take you back to your office.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary, Mr. Barrington. It’s not much of a walk, and it’s a nice day.”
“I’m afraid it
“A
“It wouldn’t do any good to explain; just trust me on this.”
She shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
The phone rang, and Stone picked it up. “Hello?”
“It’s Andy Anderson. We’re coming up the street now.”
“Thanks; I’ll open the door.” He hung up. “Please follow me,” he said to Joan Robertson.
She stood up. “All right.”
Stone led her down the back stairs, through his exercise room, and into the garage. He pressed the button, and the door rose noisily. Instantly, a car drove inside, with Mick Kelly at the wheel and Andy Anderson in the passenger seat. Stone opened the door and helped Joan in. “I want you to lie down on the backseat until Detective Anderson tells you it’s all right to sit up.”
Joan laughed. “This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said.
“Believe me, this is for your protection. Thanks for coming over; I’ll let you know when it’s a better time.” He closed the door and gave Anderson a thumbs-up sign. “Go,” he said. The car backed into the street, and Stone closed the garage door behind them.
He was halfway back to the kitchen when it occurred to him that he had a lunch date that he didn’t dare keep.
11
STONE WAITED UNTIL TWELVE-THIRTY, then called the Four Seasons and asked for Alex von Bidder, one of the owners. “Hello, Alex, it’s Stone Barrington.”
“Good morning, Stone; would you like a lunch table?”
“Yes, I’m supposed to meet a young lady at one o’clock named Sarah Buckminster.”
“The painter?”
“Yes.”
“I have two of her pictures; she’s very good.”
“Yes, she is. Trouble is, I’m not going to be able to meet her, so I’d appreciate it if you’d give her a table next to somebody interesting, so she can eavesdrop…”
Von Bidder laughed. “Of course.”
“…and if you’d give her a phone and ask her to call me.”
“Of course.”
“She likes champagne; give her half a bottle of something good and charge the whole thing to my house account.”
“I’ll see that it’s done, Stone.”
Stone said goodbye and hung up. His stomach was growling, and he hated missing this lunch.
He was eating a ham sandwich when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Sarah; I understand you’re standing me up.”
“I am so very sorry; I was looking forward to seeing you, but something extremely… intrusive has come up.”
“So, I have to drink the Veuve-Clicquot all by myself?”
“For the moment, I’m afraid.”
“Shall I come to you after lunch?”
“No, we definitely can’t do that.”
“How about dinner?”
He hesitated. “Where are you staying?”
“I have some friends’ apartment all to myself. They’re in Europe.”
Stone thought about this.
“Are you there?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes, I’m sorry; I was thinking.”
“Is this such a tough decision, Stone?”
“Of course not; I’m dying to see you, it’s just…”
