Stone Barrington 06-11

for somebody more important, whichever comes first.”

    “I would extend your residence there as long as possible.”
    She shook her head. “No, I have to pay my own room service and laundry bills. Do you have any idea what they charge for dry cleaning a silk blouse?”
    “A week’s pay?”
    “Very nearly, and breakfast this morning was forty-five bucks.”
    “I hope you ate well.”
    “Better than I intended to. I felt I had to finish it.”
    “I know how you feel. Billy Bob cooked me breakfast this morning—a strip steak and half a dozen eggs. I couldn’t eat lunch, and I’m not very hungry now.”
    He looked back at Billy Bob and his date, posing for a photograph with the mayor, whose head hovered at about the height of the date’s nipples, which were threatening to become visible. They all seemed the best of friends.
    Stone was still thinking about that phone call that morning. “Excuse me a second,” he said. He walked out of the dining room and into the hallway, next to the huge Picasso weaving and called Bob Cantor, who did all sorts of technical investigations for him.
    “Hello?”
    “Bob, it’s Stone; are you near your computer?”
    “Always.”
    “Can you do your magic and tell me the origin of a phone call that came to my house about nine-fifteen this morning?” Stone could hear the tapping noises from Bob’s keyboard.
    “Did you get a lot of calls this morning?”
    “That was the only long-distance call before about ten.”
    “Here we go: It came from the residence of somebody named Warren Buffett, in Omaha, Nebraska. Holy shit, are you getting calls from Warren Buffett?”
    “It would appear so. Thanks, Bob.” He hung up and returned to his table.

    “Everything all right?” Tiff asked.
    “Seems to be,” Stone replied. He was going to have to start taking Billy Bob Barnstormer seriously.
    WHEN THE DINNER was over, they went back to her waiting car.
    “I’ll give you a lift home,” she said. She lowered the partition window slightly and gave the driver the address.
    “You know my address?”
    “You’d be amazed at what I know about you.”
    Shortly, they stopped in front of his house. “How about dinner tomorrow night?”
    “Let me call you when I see how my first day is going,” she said. “Will you take me to Elaine’s? I’ve never been.”
    “Sure.” He gave her his card. “The cell-phone number is on there, too, if I’m not in my office. But then, you probably already know my cell-phone number.”
    “Of course I do,” she said, pecking him on the cheek. “Thanks for squiring me tonight; I’d have felt awkward alone.”
    “I doubt if you’ve ever felt awkward in your life,” Stone said. He slid out of the car and ran up the front steps, carrying his coat.

7
    WHEN STONE got to his bedroom, Billy Bob’s house present was stacked up at the foot of his bed, and Stone was confused. Maybe Joan had worked late and moved the luggage, but how had she even known about it?
    THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Stone woke at his usual seven o’clock, and this time, to the smell of frying bacon. He got into a robe and went down to the kitchen. Billy Bob was at the stove again, and his date of the night before was perched on a stool at the counter. Stone wondered if they had the mayor tucked away somewhere.
    “Hey, Stone,” Billy Bob said. “You’re out of steak.”
    “Sorry about that,” Stone said.
    “This here is Tiffany,” he said, nodding at the young woman.
    She extended a hand. “Charmed, I’m sure.”
    Stone wasn’t sure he could stand another Tiffany in his life. “I thought you’d gone to a hotel,” he said to Billy Bob.
    “Well, I thought so, too, but the Four Seasons won’t have my suite until tomorrow night. I still had your key; I hope it ain’t too much of a imposition.”

    “Oh, no,” Stone said. “Make yourself at home. You, too,” he said to the new Tiffany.
    “I already did,” she said. “I fucked Billy Bob’s brains out last night in your guest room.”
    Billy Bob laughed loudly.
    “I’m so pleased for you both,” Stone said. “Billy Bob, I’ll eat two of those eggs and two strips of bacon, and no more. I still have indigestion from yesterday.”
    The phone rang, and Stone answered it. “It’s for you,” he said. “Warren Buffett again.”
    Tiffany Two held the phone to Billy Bob’s ear, so he could talk and cook at the same time. “You got it, Warren? Good. Everthing all right, then? Good. We got to talk about that