“Like Julian Schnabel?”
“Yeah, but without the talent, the work to prove it, or his following. Schnabel is the real deal; Sharpe is ersatz.”
“And you want me to bust him? Tell me why.”
“He’s glommed on to a young woman who’s about to become wealthy, and if he isn’t stopped, he’s going to get her hooked on something bad, steal her money, and throw her into the street if she doesn’t actually do time for being close to him.”
“About to be wealthy? What’s she going to do, win the lottery?”
“She’s about to become twenty-five, and when she does, a fat trust is hers to do with whatever she wants, and what she wants is Derek Sharpe. By the way, his real name is Mervin Pyle, and he’s from San Antonio, Texas. He’s skinned three or four wives already, and it might be interesting to run his names and see if he has a record back home.”
“You know anything else about him?”
“His old man made big bucks in the scrap metal business. Anything else you want to know you can learn by just meeting him. He’s a real lizard.”
“Look,” Brian said, “instead of wasting resources on this guy, why don’t I just send a couple of people over there who’ll beat him to death and throw the corpse in the East River?”
“That’s too easy,” Stone said. “Be a cop instead.”
Brian took a notebook, wrote down Sharpe’s particulars, and pushed the card back to Stone. “Okay, I’ll put somebody on him.”
“Might be a good idea to insinuate some young detective into his crowd and see what happens.”
“How about a girl detective?” Brian said. “I’ve got a hot one on the squad, young and gorgeous.”
“Add rich to that, and she’ll attract Sharpe like flies to honey.”
“Is he dangerous?” Brian asked.
“He doesn’t appear to be but cornered, who knows? That’s why I think it would be good to wander around in his background and see what turns up.”
Brian looked at him closely. “Come on, Stone, there’s more to this than what you’re telling me. You got something else against the guy?”
“Brian, I never heard of him until this morning and never met him until this evening at a gallery opening. I’ve got absolutely nothing against the guy, except for hating him on sight and hearing bad things about him.”
“Well, I guess that’s enough.”
“Who’s the lady cop?”
“Her name is Mitzi Reynolds. She’s midthirties, been on the squad for two years, and she’s from South Carolina -still has the accent.”
“She anything to do with the tobacco family?”
“Nah, her father’s a shrimper out of Charleston. She went to a nice school, though. I forget what it’s called.”
“Well, she can use her own name, and I’ll bet Sharpe will think she’s from cigarette money. Charleston is far enough away that he won’t be able to check her out easily. Use some budget to buy her some clothes.”
“Yeah, she’d love that, but don’t worry; she dresses good, has a real sense of style.”
“I might be able to fix her up with a Park Avenue address,” Stone said, “on a temporary basis. I’ll make a call tomorrow morning and see.” The building where he had dropped Rita Gammage was said to be the best address in the city; it would certainly impress Derek Sharpe.
“I’ll have Mitzi call you tomorrow morning. You should get together with her and tell her what you know. If you can get her into this apartment, that’ll keep down the budget, which ain’t going to be big for a small-timer like this Sharpe guy.”
Stone gave him a card. “Tomorrow morning’s good.”
Brian stood up. “Well, I’ve got to go out and work for a living tomorrow,” he said, “unlike you guys. You buying, Dino?”
“Nah, Stone is,” Dino said.
They all shook hands, and Brian left.
“I hope you’re not jerking Brian around,” Dino said.
“Certainly not. I think this is a bad guy; he’d fit right in at Attica.”
“Yeah, Attica is a real artist’s colony.”
“Don’t think artist; think con man, and you’ll be closer to the mark,” Stone said.
“What’s in this for you?” Dino asked.
“Eggers asked me to do what I can; the girl’s old man is a client of the firm.”
“Who is he?”
“Philip Parsons.”
“Gallery on Fifty-seventh?”
“One and the same. How the hell would you know?”
“I know a lot of stuff,” Dino said.
17
STONE WAS SITTING up in bed the following morning with a cup of coffee and the Times crossword when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Rita Gammage.”
“Good morning.”
“I just wanted to thank you for dinner last night.”
“You’re very welcome. Let’s do it again.”
“Love to. Did you talk to your man last night?”
“Yes, and I’ve been able to interest the downtown cops in Mr. Sharpe’s business dealings. In fact, I’m supposed to have lunch today with a lady cop who’s going to be leading the effort.”
“Wonderful!”
“Say, why don’t you join us?”
“Sure, where and what time?”
“How about my house at noon?”
“Sounds good. I’ve got your card, so I’ll know where.”
“See you then.”
Stone had hardly hung up when the phone rang again. “Hello?”
“Mr. Barrington?” spoke a honeyed woman’s voice.
“Yes.”
“This is Mitzi Reynolds. Brian Doyle asked me to call you.”
“Yes, we talked about you last night. Can you come to lunch at my house at noon? A lady with some knowledge of the man in question will be here, too.”
“Surely.”
Stone gave her the address, then hung up and pressed the page button on the phone. “ Helena?” He waited a moment, then she picked up.
“Mr. Stone?”
“I have a couple of people coming for lunch today. Could you fix us something?’
“I will be happy to.”
“Will it be warm enough in the garden to sit out there, do you think?”
“Oh, yes. Lots of sun, too. What would you like?”
“You decide. They’re invited for twelve, so let’s sit down at twelve thirty.”
“I will do this.” Helene hung up.
Stone went back to the puzzle.
HE WAS WORKING in his office when the upstairs doorbell buzzer rang. He picked up the phone. “Yes?”
“Your luncheon guests,” Rita said.
“I’ll buzz you in and meet you there in just a moment.” He pressed the buzzer and then called Joan.
“Yep?”
“I have guests for lunch, so I’ll be a while,” he said, and then he hung up and walked upstairs.
Rita Gammage and Mitzi Reynolds were standing in his living room, looking around. Mitzi, in what appeared to be an Armani business suit, was shorter than but just as good-looking as Rita, who was dressed in slacks and a cashmere sweater.
Stone gave Rita a peck on the cheek and introduced himself to Mitzi.
“We’ve already met each other,” Mitzi said. “We arrived simultaneously.”
“Follow me,” Stone said, then led them through the house and down to the kitchen, where Helene was working away. He introduced her to the two women.
“Anybody for a glass of champagne?” he asked, opening the fridge.
“Why not?” Mitzi said, and Rita nodded.
He took a bottle of Veuve Cliquot from the fridge, picked up three crystal flutes from a cabinet, and then led them outside to a group of chairs around a teak cocktail table. Helene had already set the lunch table with the good china. Stone poured them all a glass, and they sipped. Stone was having the problem he always had when meeting two beautiful women: which one to pursue?
“Rita, why don’t you tell Mitzi what you told me about Derek Sharpe last evening?” he said. He sipped his wine while Rita talked.