“Wait a few minutes,” Stone replied. “She’s probably on her way; she wouldn’t be there when you got there.”
As if to prove his point, Erica came through the front door, breathless. “I’m sorry to take so long; I couldn’t get a cab in this rain. What’s happening?” she asked Lance.
“We have to move, and right away,” Lance replied.
“Why?”
“There’s been . . . some trouble; I don’t want to go into it right now, but our house isn’t safe at the moment. We can go back later and pick up some things.”
Erica looked at Stone. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s best if you just do as Lance says for the moment,” Stone replied. “Lance, do you have anywhere to go?”
“I’m thinking,” Lance said. “I suppose we could find a small hotel somewhere.”
“James’s house,” Sarah said suddenly.
“What?” Lance asked.
“James’s house; there’s no one there but the housekeeper; there’s plenty of room for, what, the four of you?” She nodded toward Ali and Sheila.
“Are you sure that will be all right, Sarah?” Lance asked.
“Of course.” She began rummaging in her large handbag. “I’ve got the key here somewhere.” She came up with it, handed it to Lance, and gave him the address, in Chester Street.
“Thank you, Sarah,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Come on, everybody, let’s move.”
Stone walked out with them and gave the cabbie a fifty-pound note. “Thanks for your help,” he said. “Forget about all this, especially where you’re taking these people.”
“What people?” the driver asked. “Thanks, guv; good luck.” He handed Stone a card. “There’s my cellphone number, if you need me again.”
Lance slammed the door, and the cab took off. Stone went back inside the gallery.
“Now, will you tell me what happened?” Sarah asked.
“Lance’s friends Ali and Sheila have—had an antique shop in a market in the King’s Road. It was bombed a few minutes ago, and he’s concerned for their safety, and his own and Erica’s.”
Monica spoke up. “What has Lance gotten Erica into?”
“I don’t know the details,” Stone said. “I expect we’ll hear about it in due course, but they’ll be safe at James’s house, I’m sure.”
“Will the police be coming ’round?” Monica asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“That’s all I need, to have a lot of policemen crawling all over my gallery.”
“Monica, you are unconnected with all this,” Stone said. “In the extremely unlikely event that a policeman should drop by, just tell him everything you know, up to, but not including, the past ten minutes. You don’t know where Erica is, all right?”
“All right,” Monica said uncertainly.
“More likely than the police is that someone more . . . unofficial . . . might ask Erica’s and Lance’s whereabouts, and your answer should be the same. That’s very important.”
“All right,” Monica said. “And who would these unofficial people be?”
“Whoever bombed Ali and Sheila’s shop. And by the way, you’ve never heard of either of them.”
“That suits me just fine,” she replied. “I didn’t like the look of them. And Lance didn’t even introduce them.”
“I’d better phone James’s housekeeper and let them know that Lance is coming,” Sarah said. She picked up the phone on Monica’s desk and began dialing.
Monica took Stone aside. “Tell me the truth,” she said. “Is somebody going to throw a bomb through my gallery window?”
“Monica, really, you have nothing to be concerned about.”
“Should I call the police?”
“Certainly not; what would you tell them?”
“I don’t know; I could ask for protection, or something.”
“Protection from whom? You’re better off ignorant of this whole business. Practice being ignorant.”
“I always knew Lance would get Erica into some sort of trouble.”
“What made you think that?”
“Lance is always getting these mysterious phone calls on his cellphone, or going off to meet people in pubs or other odd places. He doesn’t have an office, like a normal businessman; he travels at odd times and on short notice, and Erica thinks this is all perfectly normal.”
“Lots of people do business out of their homes,” Stone said. “I, for one, and a lot of what you’ve just said would apply to me, too.”
Monica laughed. “I wouldn’t want you mixed up with her, either. Mixed up with me, on the other hand, would be different. When are we going to have that dinner?”
“I think we’d better postpone that indefinitely,” Stone said.
Sarah hung up the phone and joined them. “That woman—Mrs. Rivers, James’s housekeeper—is a pain in the ass; I’m going to fire her at the first opportunity.”
“What’s the problem?”
“She didn’t want them in the house, said Mr. James wouldn’t approve. I had to explain to her that she isn’t working for Mr. James anymore, she’s working for Miss Sarah, and she’d better get used to it in a hurry. I went over there yesterday to start cleaning out the place, and she behaved as if James were coming back momentarily, as if he’d been out of town on business. I’ve asked Julian Wainwright to write her a letter telling her that she’s now in my employ, but I suppose she hasn’t received it yet.”
“Relax,” Stone said. “All this will work itself out with time. I’m sure it won’t be hard to find another housekeeper, if Mrs. Rivers can’t accustom herself to her new circumstances.”