“Thanks and have a great trip,” Stone said.
Holly wrapped her arms around him. “I was so looking forward to this.”
“Me, too.”
They kissed until Will rolled down his window and said, “I don’t mean to be an asshole, but there’s a beach in the Pacific calling my name.”
Stone and Holly reluctantly parted.
“Don’t have too much fun without me,” she said.
“Me? Never.”
She snorted. “Right.” She entered the car, and the motorcade departed.
While Stone ate breakfast, he considered flying on to L.A. that day, but that would mean arriving more than a week before the Centurion board meeting. As much as he enjoyed Los Angeles, it couldn’t compete with the peace and calm of Santa Fe. And after everything he’d been through in the last few months, a little bit of peace was welcomed.
Besides, Will and Kate weren’t his only friends in town.
He picked up his phone and called Ed Eagle, a lawyer who worked out of an office in town.
“Stone, this is a nice surprise. How are you doing?”
“I’m good, Ed. And you and Susannah?”
“Happy and healthy.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“When are you going to come out and visit us again?”
“How about today?”
“Don’t tell me you’re already in town?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“And you’re not staying with us?”
“You do realize you’re not the only ones I know here, right?”
“Ah, I get it. You’d rather stay with a couple of has-been ex-presidents than with your good old friends.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Will and Kate what you think of them when I see them.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t said to them in person. Wait a second. Didn’t Will tell me they were off on vacation this week?”
“Hawaii. They left this morning.”
“And you’re in that big house by yourself?”
“Yep. Just me and a half dozen Secret Service agents. Holly was here, but she ended up having to leave, too.”
“That stuff with North Korea?”
“You are well informed.”
“If you get lonely, our guest room’s waiting for you.”
“Thanks, Ed. I’m settled in here, so I should be fine. But I was thinking that we could grab a meal.”
“How long are you here for?”
“A few days, maybe a week.”
“I’d say more than one meal, then. How about we start with lunch today?”
“That sounds great.”
“Come to my office around one, and we can go from here.”
In a luxury townhouse on the other side of Santa Fe, Simon Duchamp had just finished breakfast and was about to head to the local Duchamp Gallery when his phone pinged. His PI friend had responded to his request.
Nico Savage worked for someone named Winston Petry, in New York City, as a lawyer and fixer who handled Petry’s dirty work.
According to the PI, Savage made a good salary, but didn’t have the kind of money to afford Simon’s services. Which meant he had to be fronting for his boss, who was loaded. Apparently, Petry was the kind of guy who felt the law didn’t apply to him.
Simon grinned. Loaded and not worried about being an upright citizen were two of his favorite traits in a client.
He called Savage on a burner phone.
“Nico Savage.”
“Good morning, Mr. Savage. Reed Langston tells me that you’d like to talk.”
“You’re his art guy?”
Simon bristled at the description but kept it out of his voice. “I understand you might be interested in acquiring a particular piece?”
“Not one. Several.”
“By several, you mean...?”
“Three should be enough.”
Simon frowned at how arbitrary that sounded. “Okay. Which artists?”
“Matilda Stone.”
“And?”
“Just her.”
“I see. Are there particular pieces of hers you’re interested in?”
“I’ll send you a list.”
“I just want to make sure you’re aware, there is the possibility I might not be able to acquire three from your list. Are you okay with that?”
“If would be a shame, but if unavoidable, any Stone paintings will do.”
“I’m sorry?”
“We want three. As many of those as you can from the list would be appreciated.”
“I’ll... see what I can do.”
Chapter 13
Stone was waiting on a couch outside Ed’s office when the door opened. Ed stepped out in the company of a man and two women, all in their forties or fifties.
From the trio’s similar facial features, Stone guessed they were related, and from their grim expressions, he was sure the topic they’d been discussing had not been a happy one.
The older of the women shook Ed’s hand. “Thank you, Ed. We know you’re doing what you can. We’ll discuss everything and decide how we want to proceed.”
The other two also shook hands with Ed, then Ed’s secretary escorted them out.
Once they were alone, Ed clapped Stone on the back. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
They walked to an Italian restaurant called Cavano’s, a couple of blocks from Ed’s office.
Before Stone had a chance to crack open his menu, a white-haired man sporting an impressive mustache approached their table.
“Ed, it’s been too long.”
“Danny, I’m starting to worry about your memory,” Ed said. “I had lunch here three days ago.”
“I know. Three days is too long.”
“If I ate here every day, I’d be as big as a house.”
“You’re as big as a house now, so what would it matter?”
Danny wasn’t wrong. While Stone considered himself tall in most circumstances, at nearly six foot eight, Ed towered over him by several inches, and was sturdily built.
“Let me introduce you to my friend Stone Barrington. Stone, this is Danny Cavano, the owner.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Danny said, shaking Stone’s hand.
“The pleasure’s all mine.” Stone opened his menu. “What do you recommend?”
Danny snatched it from him, then grabbed Ed’s. “Do me the honor of ordering for you.”
“My stomach is in your hands.”
“What would you like to drink?”
“Do you have Knob Creek?”
“Do I look uncivilized? Of course we do. Ed?”
Ed grimaced. “I have a meeting later this afternoon, so I’m afraid I’ll have to stick to iced tea.”
“Very good.” Danny gave them a small bow and left.
“I helped Danny out of a difficult situation with his former landlord, so now I get the royal treatment. I would come more, but he doesn’t let me pay. Feels wrong to take advantage of that, but it’s the best Italian food in town.”
“How long has he been here?”
“About two years.”
“I take it he has a better landlord now.”
“I might be biased, but I’d say so.” Ed smirked. “Susannah and I own the building.”
A waitress arrived with their drinks and a caprese salad for each of them.
After she left, Ed said, “I hear the Russian mob’s been keeping you busy.”
“Don’t believe all you read.”
There had been several articles about the incident at the New York State Bar Association dinner in which Stone played one of the starring roles. And though he had pulled as many strings as possible to keep his name out of it, stories in a few of the less reputable papers had implied his participation, to a surprisingly accurate degree.
“And on a completely unrelated note,” Stone added, “I’ve been reliably informed their unsavory attention has moved elsewhere.”