Insatiable Appetites Read online

  BOOKS BY STUART WOODS

  FICTION

  Paris Match†

  Cut and Thrust†

  Carnal Curiosity†

  Standup Guy†

  Doing Hard Time†

  Unintended Consequences†

  Collateral Damage†

  Severe Clear†

  Unnatural Acts†

  DC Dead†

  Son of Stone†

  Bel-Air Dead†

  Strategic Moves†

  Santa Fe Edge§

  Lucid Intervals†

  Kisser†

  Hothouse Orchid*

  Loitering with Intent†

  Mounting Fears‡

  Hot Mahogany†

  Santa Fe Dead§

  Beverly Hills Dead

  Shoot Him If He Runs†

  Fresh Disasters†

  Short Straw§

  Dark Harbor†

  Iron Orchid*

  Two-Dollar Bill†

  The Prince of Beverly Hills

  Reckless Abandon†

  Capital Crimes‡

  Dirty Work†

  Blood Orchid*

  The Short Forever†

  Orchid Blues*

  Cold Paradise†

  L.A. Dead†

  The Run‡

  Worst Fears Realized†

  Orchid Beach*

  Swimming to Catalina†

  Dead in the Water†

  Dirt†

  Choke

  Imperfect Strangers

  Heat

  Dead Eyes

  L.A. Times

  Santa Fe Rules§

  New York Dead†

  Palindrome

  Grass Roots‡

  White Cargo

  Deep Lie‡

  Under the Lake

  Run Before the Wind‡

  Chiefs‡

  TRAVEL

  A Romantic’s Guide to the Country Inns of Britain and Ireland (1979)

  MEMOIR

  Blue Water, Green Skipper

  *A Holly Barker Novel

  †A Stone Barrington Novel

  ‡A Will Lee Novel

  §An Ed Eagle Novel

  G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS

  Publishers Since 1838

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Copyright © 2015 by Stuart Woods

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Woods, Stuart.

  Insatiable appetites / Stuart Woods.

  p. cm.—(Stone Barrington ; 32)

  ISBN 978-0-698-15415-5

  1. Barrington, Stone (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Private investigators—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3573.O642I57 2015 2014040669

  813'.54—dc23

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  CONTENTS

  Books by Stuart Woods

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Author’s Note

  Election night, late.

  Stone Barrington sat on a sofa in the family quarters of the White House, watching the presidential race unfold on television. Things were not going as he had hoped. The race, between Katharine Lee, First Lady of the United States, and Senator Henry Carson of Virginia, seemed to be a dead heat.

  Kate Lee and her husband, President Will Lee, were Stone’s friends, and he had looked forward to their invitation to spend election night in the family quarters with a couple of dozen good friends. He had not looked forward to seeing her lose the race to a cardboard cutout of a Republican senator, which was how he saw Henry Carson, known in the Lee campaign as Honk, due to a failed attempt to get the nation to think of him as a Hank, instead of a Henry. A mispronunciation by a French official had rechristened him.

  Ann Keaton, the Lee deputy campaign manager, to whom Stone was very, very close, came and sat beside him.

  “How do you feel about all this?” he asked Ann.

  “Nauseous,” she replied.

  “What’s going wrong?”

  “We’re not getting the turnout our pollsters told us to expect,” she said. “Young people and independents are not voting in the numbers we had hoped. At least, that’s what our exit polling is telling us. Also, Florida is taking a hell of a long time to count. They’ve got a Republican governor, and we’re worried about hanky-panky. It could be Bush–Gore all over again. On top of that, Ohio is neck and neck.”

  “The West Coast polls close in ten minutes,” Stone said. “Those states should give Kate a boost.”

  “They should, yes, but California can’t put her over the top, if Florida and Ohio go the other way. This could be a very big upset.”

  “Something’s happening,” Stone said, pointing at the TV. Chris Matthews and Tom Brokaw were on screen.

  “Based on
our own exit polling and with eighty-nine percent of the precincts reporting,” Brokaw was saying, “our desk is calling Florida for Senator Henry Carson.”

  “No!!!” came a shout from around the room. “Not possible!” Senator Sam Meriwether of Georgia, Kate’s campaign manager, yelled.

  “Easy, Sam,” Will Lee said. “It’s not necessarily over because a network has called it.”

  “CBS has called it that way, too, but ABC is holding out,” a woman watching another TV set called.

  “Fox called it for Honk half an hour ago,” somebody said.

  “I regard that as encouraging,” Stone said, and everybody laughed, releasing some tension in the room.

  Kate Lee emerged from the Presidential Bedroom with a coat over her shoulders. “I’d better get over to the armory,” she said. “I’m going to have to make a statement soon.”

  “It’s not over yet,” her husband said.

  “I hope you’re right,” Kate said, kissing him, “but I’d better be ready.” She started for the door, two Secret Service agents in tow.

  “Wait a minute!” Sam Meriwether shouted. “CBS is reconsidering their call.”

  Kate stopped. “Have they reversed themselves?”

  “No, but they’re saying that Florida is back in the undecided column.”

  “That has to be a good sign,” Ann said to Stone.

  “I hope so.”

  “New totals from Florida,” Sam called out. “With ninety-six percent of precincts reporting, Kate leads by three thousand votes!”

  Kate walked back toward the TV set. “That’s too narrow a margin. What precincts haven’t reported?”

  Sam pointed at a north Florida county.

  “That county is nearly all African-American,” Kate said. “It should be ours by a big margin.”

  “I’m thinking hanky-panky,” Sam said.

  “Have we got anybody in the courthouse there?”

  As they watched, cars pulled up in the courthouse square and men in suits got out.

  “Republicans?” somebody asked.

  “FBI agents! I see badges.”

  The men swept into the courthouse.

  Will came and stood beside Kate. “You’re right,” he said, “you’d better get over to the armory. They’ve got a comfortable room for you to wait in there. Don’t do anything precipitous.”

  Kate kissed him again and ran for the door.

  “The West Coast has closed,” somebody called.

  “MSNBC is backing away from their call in Florida,” somebody else said.

  “What do they know that we don’t?” Stone asked Ann.

  “I don’t know anymore,” Ann said. “I’m through reading exit polls and guessing. We’ll know soon anyway.”

  “One precinct in north Florida has reported and that, alone, has widened Katharine Lee’s lead by another two thousand points,” Chris Matthews said. “And we’re hearing that they’ll have a statewide count at any minute.”

  “Here’s some good news for the Lee campaign,” Brokaw said. “Now that the polls in the West have closed, we can tell you that our exit polls show Katharine Lee winning California by nearly thirty points.”

  A cheer went up around the room.

  “We’ve got a report from Ohio,” Brokaw said. “Let’s go to Amy Roberts there. Amy?”

  “Tom, this is official. All Ohio votes are in, and Kate Lee has won by less than twenty thousand votes!”

  There was a roar of glee from the people present. Will Lee was on his cell phone, and everybody knew who he was calling.

  Five minutes later, Florida came in with a final vote. “Katharine Lee has won Florida by thirty-one thousand votes!” Chris Matthew said. “We can now call the election. The next president of the United States will be Katharine Lee!”

  “Will,” Stone called, “did you reach Kate?”

  “Yes, and she’s hearing that Henry Carson is about to speak.”

  Carson came on camera before a big crowd and waved for silence. “Well,” he said, “we haven’t heard from Guam, yet.” His crowd both laughed and moaned. “But it’s clear that our next president will be Kate Lee. I congratulate her for the campaign she ran and the victory she has won. I will do all I can to help her.”

  The TV switched now to the armory, where Kate was making her way to the podium. Will was not with her by design; he had wanted her to accept or concede on her own terms. She stood for nearly ten minutes, waving at the crowd and waiting for the noise to die down. Eventually, the floor was hers.

  “Thank you all,” she said, “and my thanks to every American who voted today, no matter for whom. Once again, we are on the brink of new leadership in our country, just the way the framers of the Constitution wanted it. I promise you the best government I can put together, and I invite our Republican friends to help us make this country better than ever!” Finally, when she could speak again, she said, “Will, I know you’re watching. Unpack!”

  Back at the family quarters, people were pounding Will Lee on the back and opening more champagne.

  Stone sank into the sofa, relieved and grateful, happy to be in this room on this night.

  Stone felt Ann ease from his bed, then heard her get into a robe and slip from the Lincoln Bedroom. He looked at the clock. Half past five.

  Wide awake now, he got out of bed and into some trousers and a shirt, then left the room, looking for coffee, following the scent. He walked into the big oval room and found a table of pastries and a coffee urn. He drew himself a mugful and turned to find a seat.

  “Good morning,” a female voice said.

  Stone turned to find Kate Lee sunk into an armchair, coffee in her hand. “Good morning, Madame President-Elect,” he said. “May I be the ten thousandth to congratulate you?” He took a chair facing hers.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Will is out like a light, but my mind is still racing.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “For years I couldn’t let myself believe this could happen, and now it has, and I still can’t believe it.”

  “Enjoy your disbelief,” he said. “It will get real soon enough.”

  She checked her watch. “Right now, it’s just another early morning at home. In a couple of hours all hell will break loose. I must remember to find time to write in my journal today.” She patted her belly. “He/she will want to read that someday.”

  “You still don’t know?”

  “I know I’m out of fashion, but I don’t want to know until I can hold him/her in my arms. Neither does Will.”

  “Maybe this is callously political of me,” he said, “but I think your being pregnant is going to be a material advantage to your presidency.”

  “I hadn’t allowed myself to think of that,” Kate replied. “How an advantage?”

  “It’s going to be hard for your opponents to criticize a pregnant woman,” Stone said. “I’ve noticed that men are very delicate with women who are carrying a child.”

  “That’s true in its way.”

  “I think you should try to get as much as possible accomplished before you give birth.”

  “After that, I’ll just be another mom, huh?”

  “Men aren’t afraid to argue with their moms.”

  Kate laughed. “God knows I wasn’t afraid to argue with mine. What about you?”

  “I learned early on that my mother had an annoying tendency to be right. It was daunting, and I thought twice before I opposed her.”

  “You were a smart boy.”

  “That’s what she used to tell me.”

  “Stone, I want to appoint you to something.”

  He held up a hand. “No, please, Kate.”

  “Shut up. This is your president-elect speaking. You are now, officially, the first member of my Kitchen Cabinet.”

&nb
sp; Stone laughed. “How could I not accept that post? I’m honored beyond words.”

  “And you will serve for the entire eight years.”

  “That’s thinking ahead.”

  “A president can get things done in a first term, but she needs a second to keep her opponents from dismantling her accomplishments.”

  “You’ve got a narrow majority in both houses—that should help.”

  “The next congressional campaign starts today,” she said, “and so does my charm offensive with Republican congresspeople and senators. They may vote against me a lot of the time, but I’m going to make their hearts break when they do.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I heard Ann sneak back to her room a few minutes ago.”

  “Oops.”

  “I’m happy that you two were able to get together for a while, and, believe me, I’m sorry that I’m going to be keeping you apart for a long time.”

  “Thank you. We’ve talked about that, and we know it has to be done.”

  “What is it the mafiosi say? This is the business we’ve chosen.”

  “Ann knows that.”

  “I’m glad she does.” Kate got to her feet. “I hope you’ll be around for a few days.”

  “No, I have to get back. I’ve been away from my desk for too long, what with the Paris trip, and I flew a borrowed airplane down here that has to be returned.”

  “I hear you bought a house in Paris.”

  “I did, and I have to be careful about doing that every time I get a little depressed. If you and Will ever need a hideaway, it will be waiting for you.”

  “That’s sweet of you,” Kate said, patting his cheek, “but the only hideaway we’re going to have is the one we have now at Camp David. And that’s sort of like a White House in the woods. We’ll take you up on your Paris house when they kick us out of town.” She kissed him on the forehead and padded out of the room.

  Stone thought maybe he should start a journal of his own.

  Stone said his goodbyes to Ann over a second cup of coffee and was back in his home office in New York in time for a sandwich at his desk, while he went through mail and phone messages. Joan stuck her head in. “Herbie Fisher wants to come by after lunch to catch up.”

  “Sure. He’s been keeping an eye on my clients.”

  “You’re starting to get phone calls from people that sound like they want your ear, because you know our new president.”