“You want to join us for dinner in the bar?” Stone asked.
“I think we’ll go to the dining room,” Cantor said, winking.
Clearly Bob wanted to be alone with his girl.
“Was that your date who walked out ahead of you?”
“Yes,” Stone replied.
“I know her,” Cantor said.
“Lots of people do.”
Someone tapped Stone on the shoulder from behind. He turned and found Harlan Deal standing there.
“Harlan!” Stone said, half in surprise, half in shock.
“Good evening, Mr. Barrington,” Deal said. “What brings you to Connecticut?”
“I have a house here,” Stone said.
“Would you like to join some friends and me for dinner?”
“Thank you, Harlan, but I’ve already eaten, and I want to turn in early. It’s been a long week.”
“Of course,” Deal said.
Stone glanced over Deal’s shoulder and saw Carla come out of the ladies’ room. He hoped to God that she saw Harlan.
“I’m very grateful for the good work you did on the prenup,” Deal said.
“I’m glad to have been of help. I hope you’ll both be very happy.” Carla had not seen Deal. She was walking straight toward them. Then she stopped, started walking backward, and disappeared into the ladies’ room again.
Stone tried to control his sigh of relief.
“Actually I’ve changed my mind and decided not to marry her,” Deal said.
“A gentleman’s prerogative as well as a lady’s.”
“I felt she was unfaithful.”
“I’m sorry.” God, he wanted to get away from this man, but he kept a smile frozen on his face. He was determined to let Deal break off the conversation first.
Cantor broke in. “Excuse us, Stone. Our table is ready,” he said.
Stone gratefully turned toward him. “Bob, Bonnie, I hope you enjoy your dinner.” He watched them walk into the dining room, then turned back, hoping to find Deal gone.
He was not gone. “Are you sure you won’t join us, just for a drink?”
“Perhaps another time.”
“I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity,” Deal said. “I’ve been house hunting all day, and I think I’ve found something.”
“Congratulations, where is it?”
“It’s called The Rocks, and it’s only a quarter mile from here.”
The Rocks was the big house next door to Stone’s. “Oh? I hadn’t heard it was on the market.”
“It isn’t, but my agent, Carolyn Klemm, showed it to me anyway. Anything is for sale, you know, at the right price.”
“Well, Carolyn should know. She sold me my house, too. In fact, it was originally the gatehouse for The Rocks.”
“Well, if I buy The Rocks, perhaps you’ll sell me your place, and I can reunite the two.”
“I don’t think so, Harlan, but I’ll be happy to have you for a neighbor.” This was an outright lie, and Stone hoped it didn’t show.
“We’ll see,” Deal said. “Well, I’d better join my friends. Good night.” Deal shook his hand, turned and walked into the dining room.
Stone ducked into the bar and peeped into the hall, looking for Carla. She came out of the ladies’ room and bolted for the front door.
Stone flagged down the bartender. “I have to go. Put the drinks on my account.” He found Carla in the car, waiting for him.
“I don’t believe it,” she said. “That man is everywhere.”
“He certainly is,” Stone said, starting the car. “I think we’ll dine elsewhere.”
Stone and Carla sat on the bed, watching a DVD of Singin’ in the Rain and eating a large, heavily laden pizza that Stone had picked up at the pizza parlor in the village.
“I love Gene Kelly,” Carla said.
“So do I.”
“I think he’s the best dancer this country has ever produced.”
“Better than Baryshnikov?”
“Baryshnikov was produced by Russia.”
“Oh, right.”
“I think he’s a terrific singer, too.”
“So do I, but he’s not as good as you, and as far as I know, he didn’t play piano, either.”
Stone’s cell phone vibrated on his belt. He looked at the calling number in the little window. Bob Cantor was calling. What the hell did he want? He ignored it and let it go to voice mail. He considered telling Carla of Harlan Deal’s interest in The Rocks but thought better of it. That might put a damper on their sex life.
33
The following morning, Stone was contemplating getting out of bed when the phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Dino.”
“Good morning.”
“It’s almost afternoon.”
“It’s ten A.M.,” Stone said. “What’s up?”
“I got a call to come in this morning about another case, and I reran last night’s GPS surveillance on Charlie Crow’s car.”
“Where did he go?”
“Just to one place: It was parked for a little under three hours at Abner Kramer’s house.”
“No kidding?”
“Well, he could have been next door or across the street, I guess. After all, the GPS unit is attached to his car, not to him, but that’s where his car was parked.”
“What was the time?”
“He arrived a little after eight and left a little before eleven.”
“Sounds like dinner,” Stone observed.
“Does Charlie Crow sound like the sort of guy an elegant fellow like Kramer would invite to dinner?”
“There’s no accounting for taste,” Stone reminded him. “Not even in dinner companions.”
“Yeah, I guess. I just thought you’d like to know.”
“Have you made up with Genevieve?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that she’s talking to me but not sleeping with me.”
“Have you found out what she was pissed off about?”
“Not a clue. I’ve wracked my brain.”
“She’ll get around to telling you, don’t worry.”
Carla stirred next to Stone.
“Gotta run,” Stone said. He hung up and gave his full attention to Carla.
When they had showered and dressed, Carla suddenly said,
“How about a picnic?”
“A picnic? What do you mean?”
“Well, you pack a lunch, put down a blanket in a pretty spot and eat.”
“Oh, that kind of picnic.”
“Is there any other kind?”
“I guess not.”
“Do you know of such a spot?”
Stone thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I do,” he said. “A clearing on a hilltop overlooking a fine landscape and a handsome house in the distance.”
“That should do nicely,” she said.
Stone found an old wicker basket with dishes and silver inside that he had discovered in a closet when he had bought the house. They drove down to the Village Market and bought a chicken, some salads and a cold bottle of wine, and Stone drove them to the hilltop road he had visited with Barton and Holly the week before. He parked the car, and they walked down a path to the little clearing.
“Oh,” she said, regarding the vista, “this is perfect.”
The weather was autumnal, but the sun warmed the clearing. Stone spread a blanket, and Carla busied herself arranging the lunch. “What are these for?” she asked, holding up Stone’s binoculars, which he had placed in the basket.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Sometimes they make the view more interesting.”
They sat cross-legged on the blanket, facing the distant house, ate their chicken and drank their wine. Stone lay back on an elbow and sighed. “This was a wonderful idea,” he said.
“I know,” she replied. “I have them all the time.”
“Ideas?”
“Wonderful ideas.”
“Well, so far I have no complaints about your ideas, only your ex-boyfriends.”
“Harlan is a pig,” she said.
“What did you ever see in him?”
“He’s one of those men who can be perfectly charming when you first meet him, then, as time wears on, becomes first awfully boring, then finally just awful.”
“I’ve known women like that.”