“When I’m done here you’ll feel even more at home,” she said. “It’s a specialty of mine, making the owner feel at home in his house.”
“May I place an order with you?”
“Of course.”
“I like the king-sized mattress on my bed — very comfortable — but I would prefer a pair of extra-long twins that can be electrically adjusted. Also, I haven’t been able to find the television set.”
“Beds noted — I have a source. On your return from America, they will have been installed, and I’ll have fitted sheets for you, too. Do you like the Irish linen sheets?”
“Very much, as long as they’re changed or ironed every day.”
“I will convey that to Elsie. Mmmm, this is a very fine martini.”
“And the TV set?”
“It arises from a piece of antique furniture at the foot of your bed, and its remote control is in the bedside table drawer.”
“How long have you been working on this house?”
“About fourteen months,” she replied. “Of course, that includes waiting times for almost everything to arrive.”
“What have you done here that I can’t see?”
“Well, we’ve reupholstered seventy pieces of furniture, virtually everything except a dozen or so leather pieces that have worn well with age. We’ve replaced all the house’s main systems — boilers and air-conditioning system — refinished many of the mahogany and walnut pieces of furniture, installed a twenty-four-extension office-quality telephone system, new TV sets and DVRs in every bedroom, and in here, had the Steinway grand completely rebuilt and refurbished.”
“I didn’t know there was a piano. Where is it?”
“On a truck, on the way down, be here tomorrow. Where would you like it?”
“In this room, I think,” he said, pointing. “Over there.”
“It shall be done. Do you play?”
“A bit. I played my first gig in twenty years last Saturday night, in Positano.”
“Where in Positano? La Sirenuse, perhaps?”
“No, in a private house owned by a very important mafioso. My co-instrumentalists were a guitarist who is a policeman, a bassist who is an officer of the CIA, and a drummer who is the police commissioner of New York City. I also wore a false nose and mustache and pretended to be blind.”
She laughed. “That sounds like a fascinating story. Tell it to me, please, all of it.”
Stone gave her a fifteen-minute version of the events in Italy.
She couldn’t stop laughing. “Your girlfriend must be very grateful to you.”
“On the contrary, she punched me in the face at the first opportunity and hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“Why, the ungrateful bitch! Does she know about the reward you posted for her return?”
“Probably not, and I’m not going to tell her. Anyway, her stepfather has offered to reimburse me, and I have bashfully accepted.”
“Is your life always like this?”
“Only occasionally. It’s rather sedate, most of the time.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I have a better idea, I’ll show you.”
“And how would you accomplish that?”
“I will put you aboard my airplane on Monday morning, fly you to New York, with an overnight stop in the Azores, and you can stay as long as you like.”
“That’s a tempting thought,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’ve had your martini. All you need now is a glass of wine, and you can make a decision.”
She held out her glass. “I’ll settle for another martini — that should do it.”
When the martini was half gone she set down her glass. “You know, I have a couple of clients in New York that I could catch up with. What are the sleeping arrangements at your house?”
“Two large, electrically operated beds, hard by each other.”
“Hmmmmm. More thought. I’ll give you my answer in the morning.”
“I will wait with bated breath,” he said.
They finished their dinner, had brandy and coffee, then walked upstairs, paused at the top for a kiss, then went their separate ways.
The following morning, Stone lay naked in bed, sleeping soundly. He turned onto his side and encountered another naked body. He felt it, for identification purposes. “You’d better not be Charles,” he said, and got a loud laugh.
She rolled over to face him, and their bodies became entwined. “I accept your gracious invitation to come to New York with you,” she said, “pending confirmation of our carnal compatibility.”
“I’ll get right to work on that,” Stone said, kissing her.
10
They made love again. “On a scale of one to ten,” he said when they lay panting and spent, “how would you rate our carnal compatibility?”
“Off the charts,” she said. “I’m looking forward to New York. If I make a call, I can get a few things sent down from my house in London on one of the trucks.”
“Don’t forget your passport.”
“That is always in my possession. One never knows when one might receive an enticing invitation.”
Stone picked up the phone. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Oh, no you don’t,” she said, leaping out of bed and getting into a dressing gown. “I’m not giving the staff anything to gossip about. I’ll order from the Lilac Room.”
“And where is the Lilac Room?”
“Next door.” She kissed him and ran out the door.
Stone ordered breakfast, and while he waited for it, found the remote control in the bedside drawer and pressed the On button. A large flat-screen TV rose from the chest at the end of his bed, and the sound came from speakers scattered about the room. He surfed a bit then selected the BBC and watched the morning news.
After breakfast he took the elevator down to the ground floor and tapped on Major Bugg’s doorjamb. “Good morning, Major,” he said, “may we talk?”
“Of course, Mr. Barrington. Please come in and take a pew.” He gestured to a chair across his desk.
“Are you going to preach to me?” Stone asked as he settled into it.
“Not unless that’s what you’d like.”
“I’d like a rundown on how the place works, if you don’t mind.”
Bugg took a bound document from a desk drawer and handed it to him. “This is our year-end summary for last year,” he said. “We publish one every month, as well. It details all our expenses in detail. There’s no income to speak of, except for the surplus milk we sell to the Cadland Dairy across the river.”
Stone found a list of staff salaries and read down it, starting with Bugg, then he found a monthly summary of expenses. “This looks very much in order,” he said, “but when I get back to New York I’ll have my accountant go over it. I may have questions then. In the meantime, I find the staff underpaid.”
“Our salaries are in line with what others in the neighborhood pay.”
“Please give them a twenty-five percent raise, yours included, and tell them that it’s based on their not gossiping to others about what they’re earning.”
“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Barrington. I’ll certainly pass that admonition along to them, though I can’t promise they won’t brag a bit.”
“I think people who are well paid perform better and are more loyal than those who are underpaid.”
Bugg nodded. “By the way, the police arrested the brigadier last night and will be charging him with the murder of Sir Richard Curtis.”
“Who is the brigadier?” Stone asked.
“I’m sorry, it’s our hermit, Wilfred Burns.”
“He’s a brigadier general?”
“Royal Marines, retired. We all of us here served under him during the Falklands War.”