Stone Barrington 06-11

anything will happen. I’ll contrive to stand next to Bartlett, and you’ll take our photograph, come hell or high water.”
    “Have you alerted the police?”
    “No. If he is Manning, he’s not charged with anything. I just want an opportunity to get him alone and to put an offer to him.”
    “What sort of offer?”
    “Liz is willing to pay him to go away.”
    “Oh. And you think that will work?”
    “I can only hope so.”
    “What if he still denies being Manning?”
    “I’ve got a friend in New York working on Bartlett’s background. Maybe we’ll be able to present him with some evidence that he’s not who he says he is.”
    “Tonight?”
    “Probably not that soon, although my friend has my cell phone number.”
    “This is kind of exciting,” Callie said, giggling.
    “All in a day’s work,” Stone said drily.

    The gates of the Wilkes house were open, and a valet took their car. Stone and Callie walked into the house and were greeted by Frank and Margaret Wilkes in the foyer.
    “Stone, Callie, welcome,” Mrs. Wilkes said.
    “Thank you for asking us, Margaret,” Stone replied. “Is he here yet?”
    “No. In fact, he called and said he couldn’t make it in time for drinks, but he’d be here for dinner.”
    “Did he say why?”
    “No. Why don’t you two go on out to the terrace and have a drink. Frank and I will be along as soon as all our guests have arrived.”
    “Thank you, we will.” Stone led Callie through the house and out to the same terrace where they had sat earlier that day. A dozen couples had already arrived and were drinking and talking to the tune of a light jazz trio, which was set up beside the pool.
    Callie saw some people she knew and introduced Stone. A waiter brought them drinks, and they chatted with the other guests. Soon the crowd had swelled to around fifty, and the Wilkeses joined their guests on the terrace.
    Margaret Wilkes tugged at Stone’s sleeve and whispered, “I’ve arranged the place cards so that you and Paul are at the same table.”
    “Thank you,” Stone said.
    Conversation continued for another half hour, then they were called to dinner. The very large dining hall had been set up with tables of eight, and Stone and Callie found their place cards and Paul Bartlett’s. Callie was seated next to Bartlett, and Stone was two places away. They had barely introduced themselves to their dinner partners and sat down, when Paul Bartlett entered the dining room, stopped to kiss his hostess on the cheek, then made his way to his place.
    He looked surprised to find Stone and Callie there. They shook hands. “I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon, Stone,” he said. “How did you come to be here?”
    “Callie is a friend of the Wilkeses,” Stone said. “They were kind enough to ask us.”
    “Oh,” he replied, but he didn’t seem satisfied with the answer.
    The first course was served, and Stone and Callie exchanged a glance and a shrug. No opportunity to get a photograph at dinner. It would have to be later.
    The woman on Stone’s right was deep in conversation with Bartlett, to the exclusion of Stone, who had to occupy himself with the dinner companion on his left, a handsome woman in her seventies.
    “And who are you?” she asked him, with a touch of imperiousness.
    “My name is Stone Barrington.”
    “And how do you know the Wilkeses?” There was suspicion in the question.
    “My companion for the evening is a friend of theirs,” Stone said, nodding in Callie’s direction.
    “Goodness,” the woman said, taking in Callie. “One wouldn’t think she would need a walker.”
    “A walker?” Stone asked.
    “Isn’t that what you are?”
    “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
    “Of course you do, darling. My name is Lila Baldwin. Perhaps you could give me your card, for the future?” She nodded toward her own date, a sleekly handsome man in his thirties, who sat next to Callie. “I’m afraid I’ve had about all of Carlton that I can bear for one season.”
    Stone gave the woman his card, then the penny dropped. The woman thought he was for hire as an escort, maybe more. “If you should ever need an attorney, please call me,” he said.
    “Attorney?” She looked at the card, holding it at arm’s length. She apparently didn’t want to be seen in her glasses.
    “Woodman and Weld, in New York,” Stone said.
    She looked at him more closely, squinting. “Your firm did my estate planning,” she said. “A lovely man