'Did you listen to the phone messages when you came in last night?'
'No.'
'There's one from Bill Eggers: He wants you at an important meeting at ten a.m., at Woodman and Weld.'
Stone looked at his bedside clock; it was nine twenty-five. 'Oh, God.'
'Maybe it's something that will produce some income,' she said. 'You can't keep selling stock.'
'I'm running,' Stone said, heading for the shower.
HE ARRIVED at the meeting in Eggers's office ten minutes late. 'Good afternoon,' Eggers said pointedly. 'I'm sorry. I got your message only a few minutes ago.' He turned and looked at the other person seated on Eggers's sofa.
She appeared to be in her midthirties, dressed in a beautifully de-signed suit and expensive shoes, wearing a tasteful diamond choker and a heavy-looking engagement ring and wedding ring. 'I'm Stone Barrington,' he said, offering his hand.
She took it, smiled briefly, but said nothing.
'This is Barbara Stanford,' Eggers said.
The name caused Stone to stop breathing for a brief moment. 'I'm very pleased to meet you.'
'Sit down, Stone,' Eggers said.
Stone sat and regarded Barbara Stanford. He guessed that, when she stood up, she would be tall. She had chestnut-colored hair and tawny skin, and the silk blouse under her suit didn't bother to cover too much cleavage.
'Barbara has a rather unusual problem,' Eggers said.
'Perhaps I'd better explain the situation to Mr. Barrington,' she said in a beautifully modulated, accentless voice.
'Go right ahead, Barbara,' Eggers said.
'A little over a year ago, I was married to a man I'd only known for a short time. During the time we've been married, we've spent a total of only a few months together, since he travels widely on business and prefers to do so alone.'
Stone saw it coming, and he dreaded it. 'May I ask his name?'
'Whitney Stanford,' she replied.
Stone gulped. 'Please go on.'
'I began to think there might be another woman,' she said, 'and I began poking around among his things. I found a passport. I thought it odd, since he was in Paris at the time and would have needed his passport to travel there, but when I opened it, it was in another name: Forrest Billings. The photograph, however, was of my husband. I had barely gotten over the shock when a magazine called
Stone knew the magazine. It was a society journal that was delivered to every apartment building on the Upper East Side.
'The magazine features a lot of photographs of people taken at parties, and to my astonishment, I saw a picture of my husband with another woman and-you won't believe this-the mayor.'
Eggers, who had seemed drowsy, was suddenly alert.
'The caption for the picture said he was somebody called Billy Bob Barnstormer.'
Eggers got to his feet. 'If you'll excuse me, I think it would be best if the two of you talked alone.'
'No. it wouldn't,' Stone said. 'Sit down, Bill.'
Eggers sat down, grabbed a tissue from a box on the coffee table and dabbed at his forehead.
Stone nodded. To Barbara Stanford he said, 'Please continue.'
'That's about it,' she said. 'It appears I'm married to a man with several identities, and I don't know which one is real. What should I do?'
'What do you want to do?' Stone asked. 'I mean, what was your first instinct, when you learned about this?'
'Well, I thought about having him arrested for bigamy, but then it occurred to me that I don't know if he has another wife.'
'Suppose you're his only wife: What would you wish to do then?'
'I think that depends on whether he is who he represented himself to be, or whether one of these other identities is real.'
'Suppose none of his identities is real,' Stone said, 'including Stanford.'
'Then I would want an immediate divorce,' she replied.
'May I ask,' Stone said, 'have you given your husband any money?'
'No, he's insisted on paying all of my bills from the moment we were married-clothes, credit cards, the maintenance fees on my co-op-everything.'
'You owned the apartment before you were married?'
'Yes, my first husband, who is deceased, left it to me.'
'Well, I think that's good news,' Stone said.
'Of course, there are the investments.'
'He invested money for you?'
'Yes, that's his business, and he's very good at it.'
'May I ask, on what basis do you assume he's good at it?'
'Well, his lifestyle, I suppose. And what he's said in conversation. He's had a number of telephone conversations with Warren Buffett about a start-up they're doing together. And he's never been short of money.'
'How much did he invest for you?'
'Oh, not all that much; the bulk of my assets are overseen by a money manager who was the best friend of my late first husband. I let Whit invest only what was in my money market account at the time.'
'And how much was that?'
'Something over eight million dollars.'
Stone winced. 'In what did he invest the money?'
'He put it into various companies that he had developed. The investments were quite well diversified.'
'Have you seen monthly statements on the investments?'
She was looking worried now. 'No. Do you think there might be something… funny about what he did with the money?'
Stone didn't answer her question immediately. 'In recent days, has anyone called or visited your apartment looking for him?'
'Why, no. He hasn't had a single phone call or visitor since he left for Paris.'
'And how long ago was that?'
'Not quite three weeks ago.'
'Have you heard from him during that time?'
'Yes, he called daily until the day before yesterday. That was when I discovered the passport. The magazine arrived yesterday. He hasn't called since then.'
'May I ask, what was your first husband's name?'
'Morris Stein,' she said.
'Of Stein Industries?'
'That's right.'
Well, Stone thought, she's never going to miss the eight million dollars. Stein had been well up among the top ten on the
'Why not?'
'Because it would appear that your husband married you under an assumed name, and if we can demonstrate that he did so, then you would be legally entitled to an annulment.'
'Oh, well, that's a relief.'
