Stone Barrington 06-11

lap, and no Dolce to screw up their evening. They began with seared foie gras, crisp on the outside, melting inside, with a cold Château Coutet, a sweet, white Bordeaux. That was followed by a thick, perfect veal chop and a bottle of Beringer Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon. Dessert was an orange crème brûlée and more of the Coutet.
    Coffee was served in Vance’s study, before a fire, as the desert night had become chilly. The women excused themselves, and Stone and Dino declined Manolo’s offer of Vance’s cigars.
    “Looks like the bloom is back on the rose,” Dino said.
    “The atmosphere is certainly warmer,” Stone agreed.
    “Arrington and Mary Ann spent the afternoon talking about you, I think. Mary Ann probably told her how lost you were without her, and how when Dolce came along, you were ripe for the picking.”
    “That’s embarrassingly close to the truth,” Stone said. “Have you heard anything from Dolce?”
    “She and Mary Ann had breakfast together at the Bel-Air this morning.”
    “Is that where she’s staying?”
    “She’s been cagey about where she’s staying. I don’t like it, frankly; I don’t think this is over.”
    “Neither do I.”
    “Are you carrying?”
    “No, and I don’t know why I asked you to bring a weapon out here. A moment of paranoia, I guess.”
    “If Dolce is mad at you, it’s not paranoid to go armed. If I were you, I wouldn’t leave home without it.”
    “I’d feel a fool, wearing a gun these days,” Stone said. “It took some getting used to when I was on the force, but now … well, it just seems, I don’t know, belligerent.”
    “You’ve never liked guns, have you?”
    “No, I guess not. I mean, I admire a well-made tool, and I guess that’s what a gun is. Some of them are beautiful things, like the Walther, but I never liked the Glocks; they’re ugly.”
    The women came back, and Manolo poured their coffee.
    “Did Marc Blumberg see you today?” Stone asked Arrington.
    “He came in time for lunch, and by the time he left, I was ‘prepped,’ as he put it. Sounds as though someone had shaved my pubic hair and painted my belly orange.”
    Dino made a face. “Such imagery! Only a woman could put it that way.”
    “Men are such babies,” Mary Ann said. “So easily shocked. Dino, you couldn’t make it as a woman for a single day.”
    “And I wouldn’t want to try,” Dino said.
    They chatted for another hour, then Stone rose and announced his departure. Dino was stifling yawns by this time, too, and he and Mary Ann departed for the guesthouse.
    Arrington walked Stone to the door. “I’m sorry about my behavior last time,” she said. “I realize now that it wasn’t your fault, that you were the victim.”
    “Hardly that,” Stone said. “I knew what I was getting into.”
    “No, you didn’t,” she said at the door, resting her head on his shoulder. “You never do.”
    Stone put a finger under her chin, raised her head, and kissed her lightly. “I’m glad you and I are all right again.”
    “So am I.”
    “If it’s any help, I’m already working on an Italian divorce.”
    “Any kind will do.”
    “I’d better go.”
    “Good night, sweet prince.”
    “And angels sing me to my rest? Not just yet, I hope.”
    He walked toward the car, then he stopped and turned. She was still standing in the doorway. “Arrington?”
    “Yes?”
    “I seem to recall that you never wore terrycloth robes.”
    “What a good memory you have. I always liked plain cotton or silk. What an odd thing to remember.”
    “Oh, I remember a lot more,” he said, as he waved good night and got into the car.
    All the way back to Centurion he thought about what she used to wear.

Fifty-three

    T HE FOLLOWING MORNING MARC BLUMBERG CALLED and asked Stone to come to his office to discuss the motion to dismiss. Stone left Centurion and on his way passed the spot where he’d had the flat tire, reminding him that he had left the damaged tire at a service station for repair. He stopped to pick it up, and as he opened the trunk he saw Felipe Cordova’s Nikes. He’d completely forgotten about them.

    He arrived at Blumberg’s office and was shown in and given coffee, while Marc finished a meeting in his conference room. Shortly, the lawyer came into his office and sat down at his desk.
    “So,” said Stone, “what’s your plan? Who are we going to call?”
    “Nobody,” Marc replied. “That’s my plan.”
    “Come again?”
    “My plan is to