“Good point. I guess I can do that. How are you and Peter getting along?”
“Famously.” Stone told her about the meeting at Centurion.
“The little devil!”
“Not so little; you should have warned me.”
“You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”
“Not a word,” Stone said. “He told me.”
“What!”
“He picked up the photograph of my father in my study, and it was all over. I answered a few questions, but he’s still going to want to hear from you.”
“Oh, God,” she said. “I’ve dreaded this.”
“Everybody’s very impressed with him, especially his maturity,” Stone said.
“I know, I know. He taught himself to read at three, and by four he was speaking like an adult, in complete paragraphs. He was just astonishing; he still is.”
“I’ll go along with that.”
“You have to remember, Stone, that although he speaks like an adult, he’s still only sixteen years old, next month, and in many ways, that’s his emotional age.”
“I haven’t seen a single sign of that,” Stone said.
“It will come up, believe me.”
“You didn’t tell me he was about to have a birthday.”
“I apologize; that was a lapse on my part. Do you want to know what to get him for a present?”
“That’s already taken care of.”
“Oh, good. All right, I’ll see you late this afternoon.”
“Where would you like to have dinner?”
“Did you and Peter dine at Elaine’s last night?”
“Yes, with Dino and Ben. He and Peter are going to the movies this afternoon.”
“Then let’s go to the Four Seasons.”
“I’ll have Joan book it. Eight o’clock?”
“All right. Bye-bye.” She hung up.
Stone gave Joan her instructions.
“All right, I’ll get the i-stuff on my lunch hour.”
“You can still take a lunch hour,” Stone said. “Tell the Woodman amp; Weld operator to pick up.” They had a telephone arrangement with the law firm so that Stone could be called there, and the caller patched through to his home office or a message taken.
Stone hung up and started on the crossword.
8
S tone was at his desk at mid-afternoon when Joan buzzed.
“Seth Keener on one.”
Stone picked up. “Yes, Seth?”
“My client has agreed to accept Mr. Fisher’s terms.”
“Good. When can I expect the paperwork back for his signature?”
“Will you accept a fax?”
“Does she have access to a color fax?”
“Possibly.”
“Have her sign in blue ink and fax without a heading, then FedEx the originals. What is her proposal for a settlement?”
“She has a little over three million in her account at the family firm.”
“I think he might accept that.”
“She’s willing, but the account is frozen. He’ll have to wait until the feds unfreeze it.”
“And that will be about the same day as Antarctica unfreezes.”
“If you say so. She has no other assets available. I’m sure Mr. Fisher wouldn’t want… questionable assets.” He paused. “There is another possibility, but we’ll have to go off the record.”
Stone pressed the record button on his phone. “What is her proposal?”
“She’s willing to backdate a transfer of her assets to a date before her departure of the country.”
“That would be felonious. Let’s go back on the record.”
“All right.”
“What is the family firm’s position? I would be surprised if they or their insurance company haven’t made a pass at that account.”
“I’m looking at a printout from online,” Keener said. “There’s no notation to that effect. I’ll e-mail you the user name and password when we receive Mr. Fisher’s signed documents.”
“Is there a notation from the feds?”
“Yes, from the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York.”
“I’m willing to recommend to my client that he accept the account as full settlement in the divorce.”
“With a notation mentioning the federal freeze order, of course.”
“Yes.”
“All right, send me an addendum to the divorce complaint and I’ll get it taken care of.”
“Right,” Stone said, and hung up. He buzzed Joan and dictated the addendum. “And get me Herbie,” he said.
Herbie came on the line. “Yes, Stone?”
“I hope you didn’t catch cold.”
“No, your suggestion of the hot bath and the brandy worked very well.”
“I have a proposal from Stephanie’s attorney.”
“Shoot.”
“She’ll agree to the divorce with her abandonment as the cause, and she’ll sign over to you her account at the family firm, which amounts to three million dollars.”
“Really?”
“There’s a catch: the feds have frozen the account.”
“Any chance it will ever be unfrozen?”
“Slim and none, but I can have a go, and the best part is, you win. That will look just fine in the papers, if it makes the papers.”
“I like that,” Herbie said. “Send me the documents.”
“Will do.” Stone hung up and buzzed Joan. “Have you noticed Herbie becoming more sane?” he asked.
“Maybe it’s a prolonged lucid interval,” she replied. “He does seem more together.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you this, but he’s been going to law school for the past three years.”
Stone was astonished. “But he already has that bogus Internet law degree, and he ostensibly passed the bar exam.”
“I think he feels guilty about that, and after all, what else would he do with his days? It’s not like he works for a living.”
“You have a point.” The doorbell rang. Stone hung up and ran upstairs and opened the door. Arrington stood there, looking sharp in a Chanel suit with a gorgeous sable coat over her shoulders. They embraced and Stone sent her luggage up to the master suite.
“You look wonderful,” he said, helping her out of her coat and hanging it in the hall closet.
“I don’t know about the master suite,” she said. “Maybe I should sleep in a guest room.”
Stone thought about that. “It’s up to you,” he said, “but I wouldn’t enjoy sneaking around.”
“All right, since Peter knows, anyway.”
“Good.” He took her upstairs and got out a couple of luggage racks for her bags.
“I’d like a nap,” she said. “Alone.”
“Of course. Get unpacked and relax; I have work to do anyway.” He kissed her and left her alone.
Joan was buzzing him as he got back to his office. “Leo Goldman on one.”
Stone picked up. “Hello, Leo. Are you back in L.A.?”
“I’m on the Centurion jet,” Leo replied. “Listen, how old is Arrington’s kid?”
Stone thought for a fraction of a second. “He just turned eighteen.”
“Good,” Leo said.
“Why?”
“If he’s eighteen, he can sign a contract.”
“A contract for what?”
“I want to buy his movie.”
Stone had forgotten about Peter’s submission. “Why?”
“Because it’s better than anything indie I saw at the Sundance Film Festival last year.”
“Leo, is Peter’s name written anywhere on the material he gave you?”
“Ah, no; there’s no title page.”
“Leo, this is what I want you to do: the moment you’re back in L.A. I want you to FedEx that script and the DVD back to me, and I want you never to mention it to anybody until I give you the okay.”
“But, Stone, it’s good! One might even say brilliant-at least one would if one knew it was written and directed by an eighteen-year-old.”
“It’s complicated, Leo, and believe me, you don’t want to piss off his mother. She is, after all, Centurion’s largest stockholder. I want your word.”
“As long as I have your word to see the finished product before anyone else in the business.”
“You have it,” Stone replied.
“Done. You’ll have it back tomorrow.”
“And you won’t keep a copy, Leo.”
“I give you my word on that, too.”
“Thanks, Leo. I’ll look forward to receiving it tomorrow.”