6 Stone Barrington Novels by Stuart Woods Page B

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    â€œMy diagnosis hasn’t changed. She seems to remember something about that night, the thing about the jewelry; I’d like to know exactly when the conversation with the lawn man took place.”
    â€œSo would I,” Stone said. He thanked the doctor, then drove to Vance’s house, entering through the utility road, where a servant stood waiting to close the gate behind him. He parked in a graveled area near the back door and went inside, where he was greeted by Manolo, the Filipino butler.
    â€œIt’s good to see you again,” Mr. Barrington.
    â€œThank you, Manolo,” Stone replied. “I wish the circumstances were different. Mrs. Calder has suggested I move into the guesthouse.”
    â€œYes, Mrs. Calder’s mother passed on that message,” Manolo said. “The guesthouse is all ready for you.”
    â€œI’m going to take Arrington’s mother and Peter to the airport now, and after that I’ll go back to the Bel-Air, return my rental car, and take a cab back here. Mrs. Calder suggested I use one of her cars.”
    â€œOf course, and I’ll give you a remote that will open the back gate, too,” Manolo said. “I’m afraid the media have the front gate staked out—permanently, it seems.”
    A man approached Stone. “Are you Mr. Barrington?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œMy name is Wilson; I’m commanding the security detail here.”
    â€œGood; what kind of vehicles do you have available?”
    â€œI’ve got a Chrysler van with blacked-out windows, and two unmarked patrol cars.”
    â€œI’d like you to drive Mrs. Carter and the boy to Supermarine, at Santa Monica Airport. The Centurion Studios jet is waiting there to fly them to Virginia.”
    Mrs. Carter appeared in the hallway, a handsome little boy of two holding her hand. “Hello, Stone,” she said. “Have you met Peter?”
    Stone knelt and took the boy’s small hand. “Not since he was a baby,” he said. “Peter, you’re getting to be a big boy.”
    â€œYes, I am,” the boy said gravely.
    There was something familiar in the child’s face, Stone thought—some characteristic of Vance or Arrington, he wasn’t sure just what. “You’re going to get to ride on a jet airplane this afternoon,” he said.
    â€œI know,” Peter replied. “My bags are all packed.”
    Two maids appeared, carrying the luggage, and everyone was bundled into the van.
    â€œI’ll lead the way out the back,” Stone said, “and I’d like a patrol car to follow us. If necessary, I’d like that car to block the road.”
    â€œI understand,” Wilson replied. He spoke softly into a handheld radio. “My people are assembling out back, now. Shall we go?”
    â€œManolo,” Stone said, “I’d like to talk with you when I get back.”
    â€œOf course, Mr. Barrington,” Manolo replied. “I thought you might wish to.” He handed Stone a small remote control for the rear gate.
    â€œBy the way,” Stone said, “on what days is the lawn mowed?”
    â€œThe man is here today,” the butler replied. “Ordinarily, it’s on Fridays, but he was ill last Friday.”
    â€œWhen was the last time he was here?”
    â€œA week ago Friday.”
    â€œDo you recall Mrs. Calder having a conversation with him on that day?”
    â€œYes, she asked him not to cut the lawn so closely. She asked me to see that it was done.”
    â€œA week ago Friday?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œThank you, Manolo. And do you recall if Mr. and Mrs. Calder went out that evening?”
    Manolo looked thoughtful. “Yes, they went to Mr. Regenstein’s home for dinner. I drove them; the chauffeur was on vacation.”
    â€œWas it a black-tie dinner?”
    â€œYes, sir; Mr. Calder was dressed in a dinner suit.”
    â€œAnd do you