Kisser (2010)

small-timer like this Sharpe guy.”
    Stone gave him a card. “Tomorrow morning’s good.”
    Brian stood up. “Well, I’ve got to go out and work for a living tomorrow,” he said, “unlike you guys. You buying, Dino?”
    “Nah, Stone is,” Dino said.
    They all shook hands, and Brian left.
    “I hope you’re not jerking Brian around,” Dino said.
    “Certainly not. I think this is a bad guy; he’d fit right in at Attica.”
    “Yeah, Attica is a real artist’s colony.”
    “Don’t think artist; think con man, and you’ll be closer to the mark,” Stone said.
    “What’s in this for you?” Dino asked.
    “Eggers asked me to do what I can; the girl’s old man is a client of the firm.”
    “Who is he?”
    “Philip Parsons.”
    “Gallery on Fifty-seventh?”
    “One and the same. How the hell would you know?”
    “I know a lot of stuff,” Dino said.

17
    STONE WAS SITTING up in bed the following morning with a cup of coffee and the Times crossword when the phone rang.
    “Hello?”
    “It’s Rita Gammage.”
    “Good morning.”
    “I just wanted to thank you for dinner last night.”
    “You’re very welcome. Let’s do it again.”
    “Love to. Did you talk to your man last night?”
    “Yes, and I’ve been able to interest the downtown cops in Mr. Sharpe’s business dealings. In fact, I’m supposed to have lunch today with a lady cop who’s going to be leading the effort.”
    “Wonderful!”
    “Say, why don’t you join us?”
    “Sure, where and what time?”
    “How about my house at noon?”
    “Sounds good. I’ve got your card, so I’ll know where.”
    “See you then.”
    Stone had hardly hung up when the phone rang again. “Hello?”
    “Mr. Barrington?” spoke a honeyed woman’s voice.
    “Yes.”
    “This is Mitzi Reynolds. Brian Doyle asked me to call you.”
    “Yes, we talked about you last night. Can you come to lunch at my house at noon? A lady with some knowledge of the man in question will be here, too.”
    “Surely.”
    Stone gave her the address, then hung up and pressed the page button on the phone. “Helena?” He waited a moment, then she picked up.
    “Mr. Stone?”
    “I have a couple of people coming for lunch today. Could you fix us something?’
    “I will be happy to.”
    “Will it be warm enough in the garden to sit out there, do you think?”
    “Oh, yes. Lots of sun, too. What would you like?”
    “You decide. They’re invited for twelve, so let’s sit down at twelve thirty.”
    “I will do this.” Helene hung up.
    Stone went back to the puzzle.
     
     
     
    HE WAS WORKING in his office when the upstairs doorbell buzzer rang. He picked up the phone. “Yes?”
    “Your luncheon guests,” Rita said.
    “I’ll buzz you in and meet you there in just a moment.” He pressed the buzzer and then called Joan.
    “Yep?”
    “I have guests for lunch, so I’ll be a while,” he said, and then he hung up and walked upstairs.
    Rita Gammage and Mitzi Reynolds were standing in his living room, looking around. Mitzi, in what appeared to be an Armani business suit, was shorter than but just as good-looking as Rita, who was dressed in slacks and a cashmere sweater.
    Stone gave Rita a peck on the cheek and introduced himself to Mitzi.
    “We’ve already met each other,” Mitzi said. “We arrived simultaneously.”
    “Follow me,” Stone said, then led them through the house and down to the kitchen, where Helene was working away. He introduced her to the two women.
    “Anybody for a glass of champagne?” he asked, opening the fridge.
    “Why not?” Mitzi said, and Rita nodded.
    He took a bottle of Veuve Cliquot from the fridge, picked up three crystal flutes from a cabinet, and then led them outside to a group of chairs around a teak cocktail table. Helene had already set the lunch table with the good china. Stone poured them all a glass, and they sipped. Stone was having the problem he always had when meeting two beautiful women: which one to pursue?
    “Rita, why don’t you tell Mitzi what you told me about Derek Sharpe last evening?” he said. He sipped his wine while Rita talked.
    “That’s about all I know,” she said, finally.
    “You make him sound repellent,” Mitzi said.
    “Then I’ve done my work,” Rita replied.
    Helene bustled out with two platters and set them on the table. “Lunch is served,” she said.
    They took their seats at the table and served themselves from the Greek salad, taramasalata , hummus, and dolmades Helene had