Eggers spoke up. “Harlan, it appears that you’ve been misinformed.”
Deal blinked, literally and figuratively. “Then I must apologize to Mr. Barrington.”
Stone waited for him to do so. “All right, apologize.”
“I apologize.”
“For having my homes broken into?”
“I know nothing about that.”
Eggers looked at him sharply. “Harlan?”
Deal threw up his hands. “My people just had a look around.”
“They rearranged my bedroom and dressing room,” Stone said.
“That was not part of my instructions,” Deal said. “My man has… a whimsical nature.”
“Well, you tell him that if I catch him being whimsical in any residence of mine again I will make a point of curing his whimsy.”
“Now, Stone,” Eggers said. “Clearly, there’s been a misunderstanding all around, and Harlan has apologized. Will the two of you now shake hands and forget this?”
Stone and Deal stared at each other. Finally, Stone extended a hand, and Deal shook it.
“I have to get back to my office,” Deal said, rising. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.” He walked out.
Eggers got up and closed the door behind Deal, then looked at Stone. “You fucked his girlfriend?”
“Bill, didn’t you hear anything I just said?”
“Stone, I know you.”
“Tell you what, pick up the phone and dial this number.” Stone read from the jotter in his jacket pocket.
Eggers dialed.
“Ask to speak to Carla.”
“What’s her last name?”
“She doesn’t have one.”
“Oh, come on, Stone.”
“She’s Eduardo Bianchi’s granddaughter, and she doesn’t like using his name.”
Eggers put down the phone in haste. “You fucked a woman who is both Harlan Deal’s fiancee and Eduardo Bianchi’s granddaughter? I don’t know why you’re not somewhere in a shallow grave.”
“She isn’t Deal’s fiancee anymore, and she wasn’t when I fucked her, and Eduardo and I get along just fine, thank you.”
“Does Eduardo know you’re fucking his granddaughter?”
“I am
“How the hell do you know Barton Cabot, anyway?”
“We both have houses in the same town; why shouldn’t I know him?”
“It’s just bizarre,” Eggers said.
“What’s bizarre about it?”
“Well, I’ll bet he’s the only former Marine colonel you know and the only antiques dealer, too. Am I wrong?”
“Well… no.”
“Then it’s bizarre.”
“If you say so.”
“Listen,” Eggers said, “as long as you know Cabot, maybe you could run down a rumor for me.”
“What sort of rumor?”
“Word around town is Cabot has got hold of a very fine eighteenth-century mahogany secretary.”
“Where the hell did you hear that?”
“If the rumor is true, I’d be interested.”
“Bill, please tell me where you heard that rumor.”
“Stone, the number of people in New York who would be interested in a piece of that caliber is very small. We talk to each other.”
“Tell me the name of the person who told you this.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Is there anything else, Bill?”
“No.”
“Then I bid you good day.” Stone got up and headed for the door.
“Let me know if you hear anything about that secretary,” Eggers called after him.
38
When Stone arrived at home his housekeeper, Helene, was picking up her paycheck from Joan. “I got your bedroom back like it was,” Helene said.
“Thank you, Helene.”
“Except for those things in the bedside drawers,” she sniffed.
“I’ll deal with that, thank you.”
“You must have had some weekend upstairs, to get it like that.”
“Helene, I was in Connecticut this weekend. Somebody got into the house and did that as a joke.”
Helene muttered something Stone didn’t quite hear, then left for home.
“She was really pissed off,” Joan said.
“I was pretty pissed off, myself. The guy who had this done just apologized to me in Bill Eggers’s office, though.”
“This was about a girl, wasn’t it, Stone?”
“Don’t go there, Joan. It was Harlan Deal’s mistake; let’s leave it at that.”
“He didn’t stop payment on his check, did he? Because I’ve already paid the bills.”
“No, he didn’t, and if he does…”
“Sorry I brought it up,” she said.
Stone went into his office and checked his desk for messages. None. He sat down and concentrated on making his anger go away. It took time, but he got there.
Stone was about to leave his desk for the day when Bob Cantor called. “I got news,” he said.
“What?”
“Something interesting on Charlie Crow’s phone.”
“Already?”
“The tap had been in for less than an hour when this call was made: Listen.”
Stone heard electronic noise, then a woman’s voice. “This is the office of Mr. Charles Crow. He’s sending a van to pick up a piece of furniture from his storage unit tomorrow morning at eight A.M. It’s locker three-two- zero.”
“Yes, ma’am,” a man’s voice said. “I’ll put it on the list.”
The call ended.
“I can’t believe we got that lucky,” Stone said. “But wait a minute. We don’t know where she called.”
“Yes, we do. The number is listed for Sutton Moving and Storage. It’s downtown, near the South Street Seaport.”
“Then let’s get there first.”
“Okay,” Cantor said. “The place is open twenty-four/seven, but let’s wait until this evening, when the workday is over. Can the two of us handle it?”
“I’ll get Dino to come with us. You want to pick us up?”
“Okay. Seven-thirty.”
“See you then.”
