Stone Barrington 06-11

“You must be Mr. Barrington.”
    “That’s right,” Stone said, offering his hand.
    “I’m Gary Stringfellow, the captain,” he said.
    “Good to meet you.”
    “Juanito show you to your cabin?”
    “Yes, I’m just having a look around. This is quite some bridge.” It was all mahogany and brass.
    “Yes. In the rebuilding, we tried to keep it much as it was when the yacht was built, except, of course, we have every piece of modern gear known to man.”
    “I can see that.”
    “Wander at will,” Gary said. “I have some work to do. Just let Juanito know if you need anything.”
    “Thanks, I will.” Stone continued his tour, working his way forward to the stem, then aft to a broad sundeck, where he shucked off his coat, loosened his tie and collapsed into a chair.
    Juanito appeared, as if by magic, bearing a silver tray and a frosty glass. “I thought you might like a gin and tonic,” he said.
    “Thank you, Juanito. You’re psychic.” Stone took the drink, and Juanito disappeared, only to return a moment later with a cordless phone.
    “A call for you, Mr. Barrington,” he said.
    Stone accepted the instrument. “Hello?”
    “It’s Bill. How was your flight?”
    “You’re full of surprises, Bill, I’ll give you that.”
    “I had meant to brief you before you met Thad, but there was no time. I take it you understand his problem?”
    “Yes, it’s sort of like being back in high school—the geek wants to date the beauty queen.”
    “Thad is impulsive, but he takes these things seriously. Do the best job for him you can, and it will react to your benefit.”
    “It already has,” Stone said. “After all, I’m sitting on a yacht in Palm Beach with a gin and tonic frozen to my fist, while you’re in New York, freezing your ass off.”
    “That was unkind.”
    “It’s no fun being in Florida in winter if you can’t gloat a little.”
    “Yeah, yeah. Listen, Stone, take this assignment seriously, all right? Thad is very important to the firm. We’re doing all the legal work on his IPO, and I’m his personal attorney. Clients don’t get any bigger than Thad Shames.”
    “I get the picture,” Stone replied.
    “Keep me posted,” Eggers said, “and don’t let anything go wrong.” He hung up.
    Stone put his feet up, sipped his drink and watched the yachts sail by. This was wonderful. Tomorrow he’d find the girl and she and Shames would live happily ever after. What could possibly go wrong?

6
    S TONE REAPPEARED ON THE AFTERDECK JUST BEFORE eight, showered, shaved and wearing a gray linen suit, a cream-colored silk shirt, a yellow tie and black alligator shoes. He took a long look at the lights of West Palm, and then he was joined by Callie.
    “Good evening,” she said.
    He turned to look at her and was stunned by the transformation. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she was wearing a tight-fitting, short dress of a dark brown espresso color. It was cut fairly low, showing off handsome breasts and a good tan. When she smiled, her teeth practically glowed in the dark. “Good evening,” he said, when he got his breath back.
    “Shall we go?” She led him back through the gardens, their way lighted by low lamps along the path, through the house and to the car. “Would you like to drive?” She held out the keys.
    Stone took them. “Sure. I haven’t driven one of these.” He opened the door for her, then went around to the driver’s side. The engine purred, rather than roared, to life, and he pulled into the lamplit street and accelerated. “Nice. What kind of power?”
    “A two-hundred-and-ninety-horsepower V-eight.”
    “Very smooth, too. Is it yours?”
    “Yes.”
    “Cooking must pay better than I thought.”
    “Well, I don’t have rent, utilities or any other household expenses to worry about, and it helps when your boss gives you an interest-free loan.”
    “Sounds as though you’ve made yourself important to Thad.”
    “I try.” She directed him through a number of turns and shortly they pulled up before a restaurant called Cafe L’Europe. A valet took the car.
    “I would have thought the ‘el, apostrophe’ was a little much,” Stone said as they entered.
    “A great deal about Palm Beach is a little much,” she said.
    They were shown to a table near the center of the room. “What would you like to drink?” Stone asked.
    “A Tanqueray martini, please.”
    “And a vodka gimlet,” Stone told the waiter. “This is a very good table,” he