Stuart Woods_Stone Barrington 21

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Copyright © 2011 by Stuart Woods
    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. Published simultaneously in Canada
     
    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
     
    Woods, Stuart.
Son of Stone : a Stone Barrington novel / Stuart Woods.
p. cm.
    ISBN : 978-1-101-54780-9
    1. Barrington, Stone (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Private investigators—Fiction.
3. Illegitimate children—Fiction. 4. Bel Air (Los Angeles, Calif.)—Fiction. 5. New York
(N.Y.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3573 O642S66 2011b 2011026858
813’.54—dc22
     
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
    While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
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This book is for Sandy Gotham Meehan

1
    E laine’s, late.
    Stone Barrington and Dino Bacchetti sat, sipping what each of them usually sipped, gazing desultorily at the menu. Elaine came and sat down.
    “Having problems deciding?” she asked.
    “Always,” Dino said.
    “Are you being a smart-ass?” she asked.
    “I’m torn between the pasta special and the osso buco,” Dino said.
    “Yeah,” Stone said, “Dino is always torn.”
    “Are you being a smart-ass?” Dino asked.
    “I’m just backing you up, pal,” Stone said.
    “Oh.”
    “Have the pasta,” Elaine said. “It’s terrific.”
    “How can I pass that up?” Dino asked, closing his menu.
    “Dino,” Stone said, “you’re veering toward the ironic again. Watch yourself.”
    Elaine looked at Dino. “You’re lucky there isn’t a steak knife on the table.” She flagged down a passing waiter. “Two pasta specials,” she said, her finger wagging between Stone and Dino.
    “I’ll have the osso buco,” Stone said.
    “I just sold the last one,” the waiter replied.
    “Tell you what,” Stone said, “I’ll have the pasta special, with a chopped spinach salad to start.”
    “Me, too, on the salad,” Dino said.
    “And a bottle of the Mondavi Napa Cabernet,” Stone added.
    “Good,” Elaine said, then she got up and wandered a couple of tables away and sat down there.
    “That was close,” Stone said. “You could have gotten a fork in the chest.”
    “I didn’t want the pasta,” Dino replied.
    “Then why didn’t you order the osso buco to begin with?”
    “They were out.”
    “You didn’t know that.”
    “Does it matter? They wouldn’t have had it anyway.”
    They sat in silence for a moment, Stone sipping his Knob Creek, Dino sipping his Johnnie Walker Black.
    “When does Ben get home for the holidays?” Stone asked. Benito was Dino’s teenaged son.
    “Tomorrow,” Dino replied. “I get him first. Mary Ann will have him for Christmas dinner at her father’s.”
    “Could you bring him to