She buzzed him. “There’s a man on the phone named Creighton Adams, says you’ve met. He’s a lawyer in Rhode Island?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll talk to him.” Stone punched the button. “Good morning, Creighton.”
“Good morning, Stone. I’m afraid I have sad news.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Mildred Strong died last night.”
Stone was stunned. “She seemed so well when we met. What happened?”
“It was an embolism. Her doctor had found it in a scan some weeks ago. It was operable, but she refused the surgery. Said she didn’t want to be that sick at this time of her life. So she just carried on until it burst as she was leaving a dinner party last night.”
“She was such a remarkable woman,” Stone said, genuinely sad. “She sent me some wines from her cellar. They arrived only a few minutes ago. I had already written her a note.”
“That was like her: She was given to bursts of generosity, especially after she knew she might die at any moment.”
“Thank you for letting me know, Creighton. I’d like to attend her funeral or memorial service. Will you let me know when that is?”
“Of course. Now to business. I’ve written you a letter that will be delivered tomorrow, but I’ll give you a day’s head start. Please inform your client, Mr. Cabot, that he has ten days to pay the remaining nineteen million dollars called for in his contract with Mrs. Strong. Please tell him that we must be strict about the deadline.”
“Certainly, I’ll tell him,” Stone said. “And thank you again for calling me.” He hung up and sat there a while, thinking of Mildred Strong and her amazing generosity. He was glad to have had the experience of knowing her.
Then something else occurred to him. He hoped Charlie Crow hadn’t heard about her death, yet. It would be like him to stop payment on his half-million-dollar check.
50
Stone dialed Barton Cabot’s cell number, since he didn’t know if He was back in Connecticut yet.
“Hello?”
“Barton, it’s Stone.”
“Good morning, Stone.”
“Not so good; I have sad news.”
“What?”
“Mildred Strong died last night. Creighton Adams called me a couple of minutes ago.”
Silence.
“Barton?”
“I’m here; I’m just stunned.”
“So am I. She seemed so healthy, but Creighton said she’d known for some weeks that she had an embolism, and she elected not to have the surgery.”
“So she knew she was going to die.”
“Yes, but she didn’t know when.”
“That’s why she did the deal with me.”
“Someone once said that the foreknowledge of death concentrates the mind. I guess she wanted to get her affairs in order.”
“I last saw her at five o’clock yesterday, after we’d finished photographing everything. She seemed just fine.”
“She sent me eight cases of her best wine. It arrived this morning.”
“That was sweet of her.”
“It certainly was. There was a note saying that she didn’t think she could drink it before she ‘kicked off,’ as she put it.”
Barton laughed.
“Creighton also gave us verbal notice of the need for you to complete the contract. You have ten days from when we receive written notice, which will be tomorrow.”
“Good God! I hadn’t thought about that! I’m going to have to see my banker while I’m in New York. It’s a good thing we took the photographs; I’m going to have to put together a prospectus to send to a number of museums.”
“Do you anticipate any problem borrowing nineteen million dollars?”
“The furniture will be its own collateral, but I’ll have to borrow twenty million: I’ll have to send a specialist moving outfit to pack and store everything, and it will have to be insured.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to get started, then.”
“Will you call Creighton Adams and tell him the house should be put under guard immediately? I don’t want people taking things out of there.”
“Yes, I’ll do that.”
“Talk to you later.” Barton hung up.
Stone buzzed Joan. “Please get me Creighton Adams.” He sat and waited for her to make the call, then he thought of something.
“Creighton Adams.”
“Creighton, it’s Stone Barrington.”
“Yes, Stone?”
“I’ve spoken to Barton, and he asked that you put the house under guard immediately and for twenty-four hours a day.”
“And who’s going to pay for that?”
“Until the deal is closed, it’s the estate’s responsibility, and you’re the executor, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes.”
“There’s at least twenty million dollars of very fine antique furniture in that house, and you don’t want any of it lost, and I doubt very much if it’s insured for its full value. You’d better get it insured for the next ten days, and I’d use a value of forty million dollars.”
“That’s going to cost a fortune.”
“You can pay it out of the nineteen million you’re getting from Barton. Anyway, it’s only for ten days.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’ll take care of it.”
“Something else, Creighton. Last week Mrs. Strong did some business with a man named Charlie Crow. Are you aware of that?”
“No,” Adams said. “I’ve never heard of him.”
“He’s a New York real estate developer and not the straightest arrow in that particular quiver.”
“Why would such a person have business with Mildred? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“She sold him something; she wouldn’t say what.”
“Wait a minute, she asked me to send a notary over there to witness a document. Can you hang on for a minute?”
“Sure.” Stone sat and waited. Two minutes passed.
Adams came back on the line. “Stone?”
“I’m here.”
“I’ve spoken with the notary who witnessed the signatures, Mildred’s and Crow’s, on two documents: a bill of sale and a letter, both handwritten by Mildred.”
“The amount of the sale?”
“Half a million dollars. That explains the balance in her bank account.”
“What did Mildred sell Crow?”
“The notary was unable to see that; half the document was covered by Crow.”
“Creighton, have you made a public announcement of Mildred’s death?”
“No, but of course word is already all over Newport, because of the people at the dinner party.”
“I would advise you to withhold the public announcement until you’re sure Mr. Crow’s check has cleared.”
“You think he might try to stop payment?”
“I do. Did your notary say that Crow took anything with him when he left?”
“He didn’t.”
“So Mildred may not have delivered the item she sold him.”
“Not unless it was something he could put in his briefcase.”
“Just be sure the check has cleared before you make an announcement. There’s no rush, is there?”
“No, I guess not.”
“I think Charlie Crow, all by himself, is a good reason for having the property guarded.”
“I’ll take care of that right now, and I’ll call our insurance agent, too. Chubb will handle this very quickly, I’m sure; they hold the policy on the house.”
“Good-bye, then.” Stone hung up and called Barton.
“Hello?”
“I’ve spoken with Creighton, and he’s agreed to put guards on the house immediately and to have Mildred’s things insured.”
“That’s good.”
“I told him he should insure for forty million, and I think you should do that, too.”
“More than that,” Barton said.
“I also asked him about Mildred’s transaction with Charlie Crow. He said he sent a notary over there who witnessed two documents: a bill of sale for half a million dollars and a letter, both in Mildred’s handwriting. The notary couldn’t tell what was sold, but Charlie didn’t take anything with him, and we were there for the next two days, and he didn’t pick up anything then.”
“I don’t understand. What could she have sold him?”