Bel-Air Dead Read online

  “Yes, he said it was a steal.”

  “Does he also represent Rex Champion?”

  “I don’t know—possibly.”

  “He sounds like trouble to me.”

  Arrington was silent for a moment. “Why does Woodman & Weld think Rex will sell for thirty-five million?”

  “Because he’s nearly bankrupt, and he’s selling off his breeding stock for the cash to keep going.”

  “He assured me that both he and the business were doing well.”

  “Then he’s desperate, and that has made him a liar.”

  “I don’t relish looking him in the eye and offering him fifteen million less than he’s asking, and I don’t like putting his back against the wall.”

  “You shouldn’t do that, you should let me or Bill Eggers do it, and, as Bill has suggested, if you want to be generous with him, you can offer him thirty-eight million.”

  Arrington thought about it for a moment. “Offer him thirty-six million,” she said.

  “Is that a firm price, or are you going to wiggle?”

  “I’ll go to thirty-seven million, if I have to.”

  “I think you should make him a take-it-or-leave-it offer, and walk away if he doesn’t accept.”

  “All right, offer him thirty-seven million. If he accepts it, I’ll hire Woodman & Weld, provided you supervise their work.”

  “Consider it done. In the meantime, don’t fire Howard Sharp, and don’t say anything to him that might make him think that you’re not going to sell Terrence Prince your shares.”

  “All right, but I haven’t changed my mind about selling Prince my shares. I still need the money to pay Rex for the farms.”

  “Here’s my first piece of advice as your new attorney: don’t sell a billion-dollar investment in order to raise thirty-seven million.”

  “Well, all right, but where am I going to get the money?”

  “Do you have a financial statement?”

  “Yes, current as of a couple of weeks ago. Howard Sharp helped me get it together.”

  “Fax it to me here, and give me your permission to share it with Woodman & Weld. We’ll find a way for you to have your cake and eat it, too.”

  “I like the sound of that,” she said.

  “And remember, not a word to Sharp about anything. Make him think nothing has changed. If he presses you for an answer on selling your Centurion shares, tell him you’re working on organizing things.”

  “Why do you think Howard Sharp is in Prince’s pocket?”

  “Because he’s the only one who could betray you, and Prince has apparently bought him. Sharp has probably given him your financial statement.”

  “The son of a bitch,” she said with some heat.

  “Keep cool, and don’t let on anything.”

  “I’ll fax you the financial statement first thing in the morning; I’m on the way out to a dinner party now.”

  “That’s fine,” Stone said. He hung up the phone.

  “You didn’t tell her that the last person to refuse to sell her Centurion shares to Prince was murdered,” Dino pointed out.

  “I didn’t want to panic her,” Stone said, “and she’s in no danger as long as Prince thinks she will sell.”

  “I hope you’re right about that,” Dino said.

  11

  Stone found Carolyn Blaine’s house easily enough, on Camden Drive, off Sunset. From its generous size he reckoned that either she had family money or she had had a good divorce. No ordinary executive assistant could pay the property taxes out of her salary, he thought.

  Carolyn didn’t ask him in; she came to the door with her purse and a shawl in her hand. “Let’s have our first drink at the restaurant,” she said.

  Stone installed her in the Mercedes. “Where to?”

  “Is Spago Beverly Hills all right?”

  “One of my favorites,” Stone said.

  “I managed to get a table in the garden,” she said.

  Ten minutes later they were being seated among L.A.’s filmland glitterati, including a pair of movie stars and several faces familiar from television. Carolyn ordered a martini and Stone stuck with his usual Knob Creek.

  “What’s Knob Creek?” Carolyn asked.

  “My favorite bourbon.”

  “The brown stuff?”

  “American corn whiskey, this one aged for nine years. It’s the patriotic thing to drink, instead of all that foreign swill. Abraham Lincoln lived in a log cabin on Knob Creek, in Kentucky.”

  Their drinks arrived, and she tasted his bourbon. “Not bad,” she said. “I like it better than scotch.”

  “Smart woman,” Stone said. They clinked glasses and drank.

  “So, was our having dinner Terrence Prince’s idea?” he asked.

  “It was entirely mine,” she replied. “He doesn’t know about it.” She looked around. “Of course, he knows a lot of the people here, so it won’t be a secret for long.”

  “I don’t care if he knows,” Stone said. “It won’t affect the business we have to do.”

  “Why not?”

  “Aha, that’s what Mr. Prince would ask.”

  “I’m curious about this transaction, but purely on a personal basis,” she said.

  “Prince wants to buy most of the land owned by Centurion Studios, so that he can build a hotel and some office buildings and condos.”

  “Funny,” she said, “I haven’t seen the plans for that.”

  “How about a model?”

  She shook her head. “Terry only uses models when he has to educate investors. How much is he offering?”

  “That’s not final, yet; somewhere between two and three billion dollars.”

  “He can do that with a combination of personal and hedge fund money. He’ll finance a big chunk, too. He has excellent banking connections.”

  “Good for him.”

  “Is your client going to sell?”

  “That is undetermined,” Stone replied.

  “And if you knew, you wouldn’t tell me.”

  “I couldn’t tell you,” he replied. “Client confidentiality. Of course, Prince has already pierced that veil.”

  “You let him do that?”

  “Nothing to do with me; he’s bought my client’s local attorney, in Virginia.” Stone didn’t mind if Prince knew he knew.

  “Did you tell me that because you think I’ll tell Terry you know?”

  “I don’t mind if you do.”

  “All right, I’ll tell him, but I wouldn’t have, if you’d wanted the confidence kept.”

  “That’s nice to know,” Stone said, not believing her.

  “What is your background?” she asked.

  “Born and bred in Greenwich Village, attended the public schools and NYU—both for college and law school. Spent fourteen years on the NYPD; then I ran into an old law school buddy who runs Woodman & Weld, and he offered me a deal.”

  “Where do you live in New York?”

  “In a town house in Turtle Bay; you know it?”

  “Yes, I’m a New Yorker, too.”

  “Your turn,” he said.

  “Born and bred on Fifth Avenue, Miss Porter’s School, Mount Holyoke, an MBA from Wharton. Married once, for ten years, divorced last year.”

  “You got the house?”

  “This is California; ever hear of community property? He had done well, with my help, so I got more than the house.”

  “How did Prince find you?”

  “Friends introduced us at a restaurant, I had a brief fling with him, and when it was over he offered me the job.”

  “And, with your background, you don’t mind serving iced tea?”

  “That’s not all I do,” she said. “He values my business sense, and I contribute something to almost every deal.”

  “Sounds like you didn’t know about the Centurion thing.”

  She shot him a glance. “That’s right, I didn’t, until I heard a snatch of conversation at your meeting this afternoon.”
r />   “Why do you suppose he didn’t tell you about it?”

  “That’s a very good question and one I’m going to make it my business to learn the answer to.”

  “I somehow have the impression that you don’t like your boss.”

  “I like him well enough.”

  “But you don’t trust him.”

  “Not implicitly. I don’t think he’s ever lied to me, but sometimes he doesn’t tell me things, and I have to figure them out for myself.”

  “Why wouldn’t he tell you about the Centurion offer?”

  “Because when I participate in a deal, I get a cut—a small one, but in a deal like that it would be considerable—and I suppose he doesn’t want to pay me, not when he thinks he doesn’t need me.”

  “He does seem very confident, doesn’t he?” Stone asked.

  “If he’s confident, it’s for a reason.”

  “Like inside knowledge from the Virginia lawyer?”

  “That’s just the sort of thing he would do. He bought a house in Virginia a couple of years ago, then flipped it for a nice profit. My guess is, the lawyer probably had something to do with that transaction, and that’s how they met.”

  That was good information, Stone thought. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen Prince do in business?” he asked.

  “If you were my attorney, you’d tell me not to answer that,” she said.

  “Then it must be something pretty bad.”

  “A lot of people in business have done bad things,” she said. “Happens all the time.”

  The waiter arrived with menus and told them the specials. When he had gone, Stone said, “If you find yourself in a compromised position because of something Prince is doing, feel free to call me,” he said, giving her his card. “Knowing too much can sometimes be felonious.”

  She tucked the card into her bra. “Good point,” she said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  After a good dinner he took her home and gave her a fairly chaste goodnight kiss. She didn’t invite him in, and he didn’t press the issue.

  12

  Stone and Dino were having breakfast the following morning when Manolo brought an envelope to the table.

  “A fax for you, Mr. Stone.”

  Stone opened the envelope and took out Arrington’s financial statement.

  “What’s that?” Dino asked.

  “It’s a list of all of Arrington’s assets and liabilities, in detail, and a statement of her net worth.”

  “So, what’s she worth?”

  “Sorry, pal, that’s a client confidence.” Stone began looking through the statement. It was pretty straightforward, even if the numbers were large. She owned her house in Virginia, which she valued at twenty million dollars, the Bel-Air house, valued at fifteen million, her Centurion stock, which she had valued at two billion, but which might end up worth half again as much, a securities account with Chase Private Bank in New York, valued at one point two billion, and cash balances in her various accounts at Chase of just over two million.

  Stone’s breath was taken away. Even without the Centurion stock, Arrington was a billionaire. He felt a new respect for the intelligence and business acumen of Vance Calder, who had obviously used his earning power as Hollywood’s greatest star over nearly half a century very wisely indeed. He also realized that, for him, Arrington’s wealth was the key to a new kind of relationship with Woodman & Weld.

  Stone had always been the firm’s outside man, available to take the cases Woodman & Weld did not want to be seen to be involved with. He had always been well compensated, but given his lifestyle, he had never been able to accumulate much wealth beyond his possessions. Then a few months ago, he had brought a very profitable new client, Strategic Services, to the firm, earning himself a million-dollar bonus for the previous year. Bill Eggers had dangled a partnership before him, but had not mentioned it since. Neither had Stone, but now was the time.

  Dino excused himself to go and get dressed, and Stone picked up his phone and dialed Bill Eggers.

  “Good morning, Stone.”

  “Good morning, Bill. Have you a few minutes to talk?”

  “Of course, Stone, always for you.”

  Although they had been friends for more than twenty years, this was a little more cordiality than Stone was accustomed to from Eggers. He seized the moment. “Bill, I’m sure you will recall the generous bonus the firm gave me a few months ago, when I brought Strategic Services into the fold.”

  “How could I forget it?” Eggers asked.

  “And I’m also sure you’ll recall the encouragement you gave me regarding a partnership at Woodman & Weld.”

  Eggers took a couple of beats before replying. “I believe I raised that as . . . a possibility, at some time in the future.”

  “I believe that time has come, Bill.”

  Eggers emitted a low chuckle. “I divine that the work you’re doing for Arrington Calder has given you new confidence, Stone.”

  “Let’s just say that it raises the . . . possibility of an important new client for Woodman & Weld.”

  “How important a client?”

  “One with a net worth in the range of four billion dollars.” Stone heard a sharp intake of breath.

  “Would we be representing her in the Centurion deal?”

  “I would be representing her in that and other business. Whether Woodman & Weld would be involved is now up to you.”

  There was a thoughtful pause. “You understand that I have a board of management that must approve any new partnership.”

  “I understand that you run a tight ship, and that the board would certainly respect your wishes.”

  “I’ve had the impression that you would not wish the Centurion deal to come to fruition, if you had your way.”

  “I would hate to see Centurion Studios gutted for the benefit of a rapacious developer and an investor who doesn’t need the proceeds of such a sale in order to have any little thing her heart desires.”

  “The firm would not derive much in the way of revenue from a sale that did not take place,” Eggers pointed out.

  “There will be many opportunities in the future for the firm to derive revenue from Arrington as a client, continuing into the next generation.”

  The chuckle came again. “You know, Stone, I met your father several times. Do you recall?”

  “Of course. You had many dinners at my parents’ home, when we were in law school.”

  “I retain a very sharp memory of your father’s appearance,” Eggers said, “and when I met young Peter Calder, I was struck by his resemblance to your father.”

  “I have made the same observation,” Stone said.

  “May I put a blunt question to you without offense, Stone?”

  “On this occasion, you may not,” Stone replied.

  Eggers sighed. “All right,” he said.

  “All right what?” Stone asked.

  “If you bring Arrington into the fold, I will propose to the board of management that you join Woodman & Weld as a full partner, with compensation in line with that paid to other partners, which, of course, is based on the revenues they produce for the firm, and I will make the proposal to the board an enthusiastic one.”

  “Thank you, Bill, and please be sure that the board understands that the closing of a Centurion deal may very well not be a part of the firm’s representation of Arrington.”

  “I understand.”

  “Something else,” Stone said.

  “Yes?”

  “All this will hinge on Arrington’s successful purchase of Champion Farms. Based on your assessment of the value of the company, she will make a one-time offer of thirty-seven million dollars to Rex Champion, and we must insist that he immediately stop selling his blood stock.”

  “I will start the process, Stone. When do you want to close? I think an early closing would be an incentive for Rex to accept the offer, given his cash-flow problem.”

  “Thirty days, but two weeks, if h
e insists. If Arrington needs cash to close, I’m sure Chase Private Bank would be happy to advance it, given the size of her portfolio.”

  “I know people there.”

  “Since you are personally acquainted with Rex Champion, Bill, I think it’s appropriate that you handle this offer and the subsequent transaction.”

  “I will do so,” Eggers said. “Do I have authority to proceed?”

  “You do,” Stone replied, “but until all our other arrangements are concluded, please withhold knowledge of Arrington’s net worth to your people.” Stone paused for a moment. “One other thing: Arrington’s affairs have heretofore been handled by a Charlottesville attorney named Howard Sharp, and it is essential that Rex Champion understand that word of this deal not reach Sharp until it is concluded. When that is done and the Centurion situation has been resolved, Arrington will fire Mr. Sharp.”

  “Of course,” Eggers replied. “Stone, let me say that I am excited by not only the acquisition of Arrington as a client, but with the prospect of your closer ties to Woodman & Weld.”

  “Thank you, Bill.” They said goodbye, and Stone hung up, breathless with the adrenaline this conversation had fired into his system.

  13

  Stone called Mike Freeman at Strategic Services. “Good morning, Mike.”

  “And to you, Stone.”

  “I would like to retain Strategic Services on the account of Woodman & Weld.”

  “Of course,” Mike said. “How can we help?”

  “The firm has a client who is contemplating entering into a large transaction involving the purchase of her shares in a movie studio by a man named Terrence Prince, of Los Angeles, who wants to build a hotel and an office/residential development on the studio’s land.”

  “I understand. We used to provide personal security to Mr. Prince, before he got so rich he hired his own people.”

  “Good, because I want to know everything about him, where his money comes from and who else’s money he’s playing with.”

  “We can investigate and supply that information,” Mike said. “Our file on him is by now out of date, but I can tell you that the origins of his wealth are shady.”