“So shoot me! Just leave me alone, until I’m well.”
“Be at the airstrip the day after tomorrow, same time. Flight plan is the same, unfiled as usual. Landing at sea is the same. Landing back at the airstrip is the same. I suggest you unstrap your left arm and use it as much as necessary.” He hung up.
Dix rolled over on his back, causing shooting pains to run up and down his body. “Shiiiiit!!!” he screamed. But, he reflected, he did need the money.
Stone’s Latitude flew back to Teterboro the following day, and Max reluctantly said her goodbyes to Stone after arrival. Stone’s driver, Fred, was waiting and drove her to LaGuardia, while Stone hitched a ride home with Dino.
Max left the passenger terminal at Key West International, towing her suitcase, her makeup kit slung over her shoulder. Tommy was waiting for her in the parking lot across the street. He put her bags in the trunk and got in beside her.
“Thanks for meeting me,” she said.
“Why didn’t he just fly to Key West and drop you off?” Tommy asked, putting the car into gear.
“That’s kind of a big detour from the L.A. — New York route,” she said.
“I guess so.”
She looked around her. “You were right. This is a new car, isn’t it?”
“Every two years, like clockwork. Elsewhere they run them till they drop, then sell them for scrap metal, but not here.”
“If I were running for mayor I could use that knowledge,” she said. “But I’m not running for mayor. Have you done anything stupid while I was gone?”
“Well, I had a stupid idea,” Tommy said.
“Oh, God.”
“I thought, just to stay out of trouble, I would tip off that young investigative reporter at the Key West Citizen. She just moved down here from Miami.”
“She must not be much of a reporter, if she considers the Citizen a promotion.”
“Nah, she’s a single mom, and she likes the school situation for her kid better here than in Miami.”
“So, how does a new-in-town investigative reporter know who to talk to in Key West?”
“I thought I might give her a tip or two.”
“Are you fucking her, Tommy?”
“I wish.”
“So you’re going to meet her surreptitiously at little cafés and slip her bits of paper with the names of possible witnesses scribbled on them?”
“I thought I’d buy a couple of throwaway phones, and we could communicate that way.”
“Well, I don’t guess your wife can shoot you for talking on the phone to a reporter.”
“I’m not so sure about that. I don’t plan to tell her.”
“Okay, so who are you going to send her to question?”
“I know a guy in fleet sales at the Ford dealership. He might be aware that something funny is going on.”
“Sure, and in that job, he might be getting his cut from the operation. And if it’s a big enough operation, maybe dealing with other city departments besides us, he might do her in instead of talking to her.”
“He’s not the type,” Tommy said.
“The type to be on the take or the type to kill her for finding out?”
“He’s not the type for either one.”
“What type is he?”
“All-American boy, a few years on. His dad was a Miami cop.”
“Does he have a family who could get hurt?”
“Divorced, no kids.”
Max sighed. “Okay, Tommy, you can try it, but warn her that if anybody so much as looks at her funny, she should back off.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Seen any more of Al Dix?”
“Neither hide nor hair. He hasn’t turned up at the Lame Duck, either.”
“He must be on the wagon.”
27
Stone was sifting through his messages and junk mail when Joan buzzed. “Roberta Calder on one.”
Stone pressed the button. “Good afternoon.”
“And to you. How was L.A.?”
“It was L.A.,” Stone replied.
“I had lunch with Herb Fisher, and I liked him. Thank you for setting that up.”
“I’m sure he’ll have your husband — what’s his name?”
“Randy Hedger. He prefers Randall. That’s why I call him Randy. His sobriquet at school was Randy Randall, and nothing has changed.”
“I’m sure Herb will have him served in no time.”
“In no time is right. I met Herb at the Grill, and while I was in the ladies’, Randy approached him, and Herb served him on the spot. And the TRO is in effect.”
“Excellent. Do you feel the need for protection?”
“I feel the need for insertion,” she replied.
Stone laughed. “Then we should attend to that right after dinner this evening.”
“Do I have to wait that long?”
“If we have dinner here, that will shorten the wait time. Six-thirty?”
“See you then.” They both hung up.
Stone buzzed her in at the stroke of six-thirty. She made her way to the study and joined him there, shucking off her trench coat. She was clad in a short black dress that concealed little.
“I like the dress,” he said, kissing her.
“It’s not a dress,” she replied, “it’s a slip.”
Stone reached around her and encountered a bare cheek peeping from the hem. “So it is,” he said. “How convenient.”
She shucked it off and disported herself on the sofa. “Quick, too,” she said.
“I should tell you that Fred is likely to enter the room at any moment to serve us drinks.”
“Yikes!” she said, bouncing off the sofa and back into her slip. “There, decent again.”
“Almost,” he said, tugging on her hem.
She smoothed everything down just in time for Fred to make his entrance.
“May I serve you and Ms. Calder something, Mr. Barrington?”
“As long as you’re here, Fred, a...”
“Gimlet,” she said.
“A gimlet and a Knob Creek.”
Fred performed the task, offered the drinks from a small silver tray, then backed out. “Helene says dinner is in twenty-three minutes.”
They clinked glasses and sipped.
“Is that long enough?” she asked.
“Not nearly. And we could be interrupted again.”
“Sounds like it’s time for some staff retraining,” she said.
“They’re more finely attuned to privacy after the dishes have been taken away,” Stone said.
“Not even time for your lips between my legs?”
“As tasty as that would be, no. Drink.”
She did.
“Has Randy’s attorney responded to your suit?”
“Suit?”
“That’s what a divorce is: a lawsuit.”
“Oh, not that I’ve heard.”
“I’m sure Herb would have put a time limit on that. If they don’t respond, he’ll move for a final decree.”
“Will he get it?”
“No, the judge will grant an extention, but then Randy and his attorney will know you’re serious.”
“What could hold it up?”
“Well, Randy could ask for conditions.”
“What sort of conditions?”
“Alimony, perhaps. There are no children, so no child support.”
“He knows I don’t want alimony.”
“Not from him, from you.”
“Me, pay Randy alimony?”
“He can ask. That doesn’t mean he’ll get it, but such a move would put him to a lot of trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“He would have to demonstrate need, which means tax returns, business records, bank statements, etc.”
“He needs from time to time,” she said, “but I’ve put a stop to it.”
“Good luck with that. Has Randy ever contributed to your upkeep?”
“Never. It was the other way around.”