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  “I wish I could help in some way,” Stone said, “but I don’t see what I can do.”

  “No,” Barton said wearily, “I’ll have to find a way out of this myself, which means I have to come up with nineteen million dollars by Tuesday.”

  “If anyone can do it, Barton, you can.”

  “Tell me, Stone, did you, by any chance, receive an invitation to a dinner party at Ab Kramer’s on Saturday night?”

  “Yes, and Tatiana is coming up to Washington with me.”

  “Oh, good. Carla’s coming up, too. Her engagement at the Carlyle has ended. Could you give her a lift?”

  “Of course. Are you thinking of going to Ab for the money?” Stone asked.

  “Ab would never make me that kind of loan.”

  “You could sell him your secretary.”

  “He already has one, remember?”

  “Well, I’ll see you at the party,” Stone said. “It should be fun.”

  “It may be more fun than you think,” Barton said. Then he hung up.

  55

  Before Stone left the house that evening, he called Tatiana. “How’s the cleanup going?” he asked.

  “Pretty well, actually,” she replied.

  “Would you like to join me for dinner, then?”

  “Oh, I think I’m going to be very tired when we’re done. Will you forgive me, if I don’t?”

  “Of course. I’ll be at Elaine’s with some friends, so if you feel like it, join us.”

  “If I’m up to it,” she said.

  Stone took a cab up to Elaine’s and found Dino and Genevieve sitting with Elaine. He joined them and ordered a drink.

  “So, how’s it going?” Dino asked.

  “So-so, I guess.”

  “Any progress in finding our missing piece of furniture?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “So we’re going to miss the payoff, then?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “You don’t seem too upset about it.”

  Stone shrugged. “You win some; you lose some.”

  “Speaking of which,” Genevieve said, nodding toward the door, “here comes one of your losses.”

  Stone looked toward the door and saw Eliza and Edgar arriving. Genevieve was waving them over.

  “Hello, Stone,” Eliza said, permitting him to peck her on the cheek.

  “Hello, Eliza, Edgar.” He shook Edgar’s hand.

  “Stone, Eliza and I must thank you for the lovely wedding gift,” Edgar said.

  “Yes, Stone,” Eliza chimed in, “it’s just beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” Stone said.

  They all got up to allow the waiters to put a bigger top on the table, and more chairs were found.

  Stone realized that this was the first time Eliza had crossed his mind since he had met Tatiana, and he was feeling pretty good about that. Still, he was uncomfortable, and he had a strong suspicion that Genevieve had staged all this.

  “So,” Dino said to Eliza and Edgar, “when are you two going to have a honeymoon?”

  “Oh,” Eliza said, “Edgar is fully scheduled for surgery for the next month.”

  “Yes,” Edgar said. “I’ve stopped taking new elective cases, so that we can have a decent enough gap to be able to go away for a bit.”

  Swell, Stone thought. This is really what I want to talk about.

  “And I have a lot of thank-you notes to write,” Eliza said, “so it’s just as well we can’t get away immediately.”

  Stone wanted to scream.

  Menus arrived, and everybody chose something. Then Genevieve and Eliza began dominating the conversation, as if they hadn’t spent the whole day together in the emergency room.

  Genevieve turned toward Stone. “Oh, Stone, there’s a new nurse in the ER I’d like to fix you up with. She’s very pretty and she’s bright, too.”

  “Thank you, Genevieve, but I’m seeing somebody,” he said with some satisfaction. He saw a flash of disbelief in her eyes.

  “Oh, how nice for you. Who is the lady?”

  “No one you know,” Stone replied.

  “Oh, come on. Tell us her name.”

  “Oh, all right. It’s Tatiana Orlovsky.”

  “What a charming name!” Genevieve said, as if she didn’t believe a word of it. “What does she do?”

  “She’s an illustrator.”

  “Oh, good! Does she specialize in anything?”

  “She’s more of a generalist.”

  “Well, isn’t it convenient that she’s come along just at this moment in your life.”

  Stone was embarrassed that this was going on in the presence of Eliza. “Dino,” he said, in a desperate attempt to change the subject, “what’s new in the world of crime?”

  “Same old, same old,” Dino said. “You know how it goes.” He gave a little shrug, as if to say you’re on your own, pal.

  “Excuse me,” Stone said, getting up. He went into the men’s room, though he didn’t need to, and splashed some water on his face, taking his time. They’d have to talk about something else, since he wasn’t there, and he could rejoin the conversation when the new subject was established. He dried his face and went back to the table.

  “Stone,” Genevieve was saying, “while you were gone, Eliza and I were talking about having a little dinner party at Dino’s and my house. Saturday night? We’d all love to meet… what was her name?”

  “Tatiana,” Stone said through clenched teeth.

  “Can you come Saturday?”

  “I’m sorry, but we’ve accepted an invitation to dinner in Connecticut that night, so we’re going up for the weekend.”

  Genevieve smiled sweetly. “What a pity. I was sure it would be something like that.”

  Dino turned to his girlfriend. “Genevieve,” he said softly but with an edge, “put a sock in it.”

  She swiveled toward Dino but was met with a steely gaze. “I’m sorry, Stone,” she said, a little sheepishly.

  At that moment the heavens opened for Stone along with the door to the restaurant, and Tatiana walked in, looking fresh and ready for the evening. Stone, vastly relieved, stood up and kissed her on the lips. “Tatiana Orlovsy, this is Dino, Genevieve, Eliza, Edgar and Elaine.”

  “I’m so pleased to meet all of you,” Tatiana said, taking an offered chair next to Stone. She turned to him. “The men finished half an hour ago, and you’d never know anything had happened in the kitchen.”

  “I’m really glad you could make it,” Stone said. He turned to the others. “Tatiana had a small fire in her kitchen last night, but there was no serious damage.”

  “No,” Tatiana said, “just smoke and water, and it cleaned up nicely.” A waiter brought her a menu, and she ordered.

  Stone watched and listened as, for the rest of the evening, Tatiana charmed and amused everybody except, maybe, Genevieve.

  In the cab home, Stone kissed Tatiana. “I can’t tell you how glad I was to see you this evening.”

  “Just what every girl wants to hear,” she replied, kissing him back.

  “I used to go out with Eliza before she and Edgar were married, and Genevieve has been giving me a hard time about it.”

  “Well,” Tatiana said, “she won’t do that while I’m around. You’re now under my protection. Oh, I talked to my lawyer, and he’s applied for a subpoena for Henry’s financial records.”

  “Good.”

  “I still wonder how you know about those expenses.”

  “Trade secret,” Stone said, then changed the subject.

  56

  When Stone got to his desk the following morning there was a message from Bill Eggers on his desk. It read: “Get your ass over here.”

  Stone buzzed Joan. “Is this note on my desk your interpretation of what Eggers said?”

  “No. That’s what he said verbatim.”

  “Thanks.” Stone hung up and got into his jacket.

  Stone reached Bill Eggers’s office seconds ahead of Harlan De
al.

  “Sit down, gentlemen,” Eggers said.

  They sat.

  “Stone,” Eggers said, “it grieves me to hear that you are, once again, the principal suspect – in fact, the only suspect – in the tampering with yet another female friend of Harlan.”

  “Frankly, Bill,” Stone said, “I’m getting a little tired of this.”

  “So is Harlan,” Eggers replied, “which is my point. Do you deny this?”

  “Let me lay this out for you both as clearly as I can,” Stone said. “I was invited to dinner at Harlan’s home last Sunday evening – at the last possible moment, I might add – and I believe I caught sight of you, Bill, across a crowded room. I also encountered the lovely Carla there, in the company of Barton Cabot, so I naturally assumed that Harlan’s purpose in asking me there was to observe me in her company, which I thought was a petty thing to do.”

  Deal came to life. “Now wait a minute-”

  “When I’m finished, Harlan,” Stone said. “While in Harlan’s apartment I encountered another woman, who explained to me, in due course, that she was an unattached female and was amenable to seeing me socially. We spent the rest of the evening together and all our free time since then, and if Harlan doesn’t like it, he can go-”

  “Stone!” Eggers interjected at the last possible moment. “Let’s try to maintain a sense of decorum.”

  “I don’t see the need for that any more than I see the need for Harlan to concern himself with whom I take out,” Stone replied. “He’s not my client, and I owe him nothing, certainly not any explanation.”

  “Harlan,” Eggers said in a fatherly tone, “I believe Stone has a point, too. You’re both grown men, and if you insist on competing for the same women, one of you is going to win and the other is going to lose. ‘It’s the law of the jungle,’ as someone once said in an old movie, ‘and the way the cookie crumbles.’ ”

  Deal sat and stared at Eggers but said nothing.

  “Furthermore, Harlan,” Eggers continued, “I am not grateful for the opportunity to involve myself in yours and Stone’s petty differences, and I would appreciate it if it did not become necessary for me to do so again. This is a business relationship, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Deal finally got a word in. “You’re quite right, Bill, and I apologize for having brought you into this. You and your firm have served me well, and I don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful.”

  “Thank you, Harlan,” Eggers began but was cut off.

  “But if you ever again let this person,” he waved in the general direction of Stone, “near any piece of business related to me, I will yank my account from this firm in short order. I hope we understand each other.”

  “We do, Harlan,” Eggers said.

  “I bid you good day,” Deal said, then departed the room.

  Stone started to get up but was pushed back into his chair by Eggers’s voice.

  “You,” Eggers said, “had better take what he just said as gospel, because Harlan and Charlie Crow have put together a new real estate company; they’re going to take it public, and this firm is handling all the legal work, including the IPO, and you will not fuck it up by so slavishly following your dick anywhere near it. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Bill,” Stone said, “I did not invite myself to this party. You brought me in, so it is incumbent upon you to keep me out of it. I would like never to see that man again under any circumstances.” He stood up. “I will go now.”

  “No objections,” Eggers said, then he leaned forward in his chair. “Who’s the lady?”

  “Her name is Tatiana Orlovsky, and she’s dynamite!” Stone said, then walked out. All the way down the hall he could hear Eggers laughing.

  Stone returned to his office, and as he walked in, a strange man sitting in the waiting area stood up.

  “Mr. Barrington?”

  “Yes?”

  The man handed him a sealed envelope. “You’ve been served,” he said, then walked out.

  Joan was behind her desk. “I tried to warn you,” she said, “but you wouldn’t look at me.”

  Stone ripped open the envelope and read the subpoena. “Alienation of affection?” he said incredulously. “What is this, Victorian England?”

  “You’ve been named a corespondent in a divorce, haven’t you?” Joan said, sounding amused. “It had to happen.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Stone said and went into his office. He tossed his coat across the room, sat down and called Tatiana.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Oh, it’s so nice to hear your voice.”

  “And yours, as well. Your divorce has taken a turn,” he said. “I’ve been named corespondent. The assertion is that I have alienated your affection.”

  “I’m so sorry, Stone, but you’re guilty, after the fact.”

  “I’m so glad you said, ‘after the fact.’ Now what you should do is call your attorney and ask him to name Darlene Harris a corespondent. That’s who Henry was with the other night at Elaine’s, and he should see that she is served today. She lives at 682 Park Avenue.”

  “And how is it that you know her exact address?” Tatiana asked, with mock suspicion.

  “I looked it up before I called you,” he lied. “Serving her will even the score until you get his financial records, then it will be game, set and match. And, by the way, you shouldn’t be surprised if this turns up in some gossip column or other. They have people at the courts who tip them off about these things.”

  “Oh, no,” she said.

  “The price of freedom, my dear.”

  “Well, then, I’ll shut up and pay it. What kind of clothes will I need in Connecticut this weekend?”

  “Country stuff like tweeds for the daytime and, I don’t know, maybe an LBD for the dinner party. It’s black tie.”

  “Is black tie the norm up there?”

  “No. It’s very odd. I sense some sort of special occasion, but I don’t know what it is. You’ll enjoy seeing the house, though; it’s very beautiful.”

  “That’s not all I’m going to enjoy,” she said, then hung up.

  57

  Late that night, as Stone was returning home from dinner, the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Stone, it’s Barton Cabot.”

  “Good evening, Barton.”

  “I’m sorry to call you so late, but something has come up.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Quite the contrary.”

  “Okay, what’s right?”

  “I’ve just had a call from Peter Cavanaugh, the director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. He wants to see Mildred’s collection tomorrow morning at eleven, and he’s bringing along his chief curator of American furniture.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Greater than you know. This means two things: One, he’s moving fast in order to get in ahead of the other museums, and two, he’s already got the money, or most of it, promised by some benefactor or benefactors.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Yes, it is. Now, here’s what I want you to do: First of all, I want you to be at Mildred’s house tomorrow morning at ten-thirty.”

  “All right, I can do that if I leave early enough.”

  “And on the way, I want you to call… What’s Mildred’s lawyer’s name?”

  “Creighton Adams.”

  “I want you to call him and have him tell the guards on the property to let us in the house at ten-thirty.”

  “I can do that, and I’m sure he won’t have any objections. Why do you want me there?”

  “Because Peter is bringing his witness, and I want one, too, so that I can hold him to account for anything he says tomorrow. Also, I would not be surprised if, after he has satisfied himself about the quality of the collection, he will have something for me to sign, and if so, I want you there to read it.”

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sp; “All right.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at ten-thirty, and don’t be late.”

  “I’ll be there,” Stone said. “But Barton, there’s something you’d better be prepared for.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I noticed that you included a photograph of your remaining mahogany secretary in your prospectus, but it’s not listed in the inventory we prepared and that you and Mildred signed.”

  “Don’t be concerned about that. If it comes up, just follow my lead.”

  “I do have a very important concern, Barton.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ve told me that you don’t know whether the stolen secretary is the original or the copy. I am not going to be a party to defrauding the Metropolitan Museum, so you must do nothing to put me in that position. If you do, I’ll have to do whatever is necessary to protect myself.”

  “I understand, and you need not be concerned. If I sell the Met the secretary, it will be the original, I assure you. By the time this is over, you will understand fully.”

  “Thank you, Barton. I’ll see you at ten-thirty tomorrow morning.”

  “Good-bye.” Barton hung up.

  Stone was up early the following morning and on the road by eight-thirty. On the way he called Creighton Adams and arranged for them to be let into the house.

  He arrived in Bristol five minutes early and found Barton already in the house. He gave the guard his name and walked in.

  Barton was pacing around the living room with the housekeeper, making minute adjustments to the positions of things in the room while she was putting coffee and cups on the sideboard. When he was finished there, he visited both the library and the dining room, then went upstairs to the bedrooms while Stone had coffee.

  Barton came down looking happy, and the housekeeper returned to her work. “We’re ready,” he said, then he was immediately on his feet, looking out the window. “They’re here early.”

  The housekeeper answered the door and brought the two men into the living room, accompanied by a photographer and his assistant, who was laden with equipment.

  Barton introduced Stone, and Cavanaugh introduced Julian Whately, his curator of American furniture. The two men were craning and turning their heads like a pair of exotic birds as they took in the room’s contents; they were clearly excited.