The driver gave an elaborate shrug, clapped a hand over his mouth, and, miraculously, did as he was asked. When they were on Fifth Avenue, Stone asked to be let out a block before Sarah’s building, tipped the driver extravagantly, and, shopping bag in hand, walked casually down the east side of Fifth Avenue. Traffic was heavy going downtown, and there were a lot of people on the street. He couldn’t spot anyone following him.
Stone found the address, and the doorman opened the door for him. Inside was a desk, and two uniformed men stood behind it. The younger one, Stone noticed, was a little too large for his jacket, and there was a bulge under his left arm.
“Yes sir?” the older man asked. He looked worried.
“My name is Barrington,” Stone said. “I’m here to see Miss Buckminster.”
The man picked up a phone, announced Stone, then told him he could go up.
Stone recognized the elevator operator. “Evening, Andy,” he said when the door was shut. “The uniform suits you.”
“Thanks a lot,” Anderson replied. “Maybe I should make a career change.”
“Where’s Mick?”
“Sitting out on the street – eating doughnuts, probably.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“You think the guy followed you?”
“If he did, he’s good; I didn’t make him.”
“I hope he did; I’d like a crack at him.”
“May you get your wish.”
“Here we are; sixteen, top floor.”
The elevator doors opened, and Stone stepped into a private foyer. “Watch yourself, Andy,” he said, then he rang the doorbell.
12
THE DOOR WAS OPENED BY A BUTLER dressed in a dark suit. “Good evening, Mr. Barrington,” he said. “My name is William; will you follow me, please?” He led the way down a long gallery hung with very good pictures, and they emerged into a large, handsome living room. “Please have a seat, sir,” William said. “Miss Buckminster will be with you in a moment; she’s in the kitchen. May I get you something to drink?”
Stone handed him the shopping bag. “There’s a cold bottle of champagne in there,” he said, “and a bottle of red wine. If you would open the red and allow it to breathe, then bring us the champagne and a couple of glasses.”
“Of course, Mr. Barrington,” William replied. He took the shopping bag and left the room.
Stone walked slowly around the room, looking at the pictures; he had never seen such a collection in a private home. A Monet of water lilies covered most of one wall, and the smaller pictures were hung in rows, covering nearly every square foot of wall space. Stone recognized works by Picasso, Manet, Braque, David Hockney, and Lucian Freud. “My God,” he muttered to himself. “I wouldn’t want to be saddled with these people’s insurance premiums.” Next to the fireplace he was riveted by something that he recognized from his childhood: one of his mother’s paintings, of Washington Square Park. He stood before it, taking in the brushwork and the light. “You’re in good company, Mother,’ he said.
“Stone!”
He turned to see Sarah Buckminster walking toward him, dressed in tailored slacks and a silk blouse. She held out her arms to him, and he embraced and kissed her. She held him away from her and looked at him. “Dear God, the years have made you even more handsome.”
Stone blushed. “And you are even more beautiful.”
She turned and looked at the Matilda Stone. “I knew you’d find it immediately.”
“I haven’t seen it since I was, I don’t know, eleven or twelve.” He waved an arm. “Who owns all this?”
“Jack and Hillary Beacon,” she replied. “He’s the CEO of Celltell, the wireless-phone company. Do you know it?”
Stone nodded. “I bought some of the stock, as a matter of fact. I don’t have much, but it’s done well.”
“This is the heart of one of the country’s great private collections. The rest is scattered around the apartment, which runs to seventeen rooms, or on loan to museums.”
“It’s astonishing.”
William appeared with a tray holding the bottle of Krug, two lovely champagne flutes, some canapés, and something wrapped in a napkin.
“Come, let’s sit down,” Sarah said, drawing him to the sofa before the fireplace, in which a cheerful fire burned.
William poured them both a flute of the wine and nodded at the napkin on the tray. “Yours, I believe, Mr. Barrington.”
Stone winced.
“Something for me, I hope,” Sarah said.
“I’m afraid not,” Stone replied. “The Krug is for you.”
“William,” she said, “you and Martha may go, now; Mr. Barrington and I will take care of ourselves for the rest of the evening.”
“If you need anything, please ring, Miss Buckminster,” William said.
“I’ll do no such thing. You and Martha take the rest of the evening off.”
“Thank you, Miss, and good night. Good night, Mr. Barrington.”
“Good night, William, and thank you for…” He nodded toward the napkin. William left them alone.
“All right, I’m dying to know what’s in the napkin,” Sarah said.
“I’m afraid it’s rather embarrassing,” Stone said. “I forgot that I had put it in the bag with the wine.”
She slid the tray toward her and began unwrapping the napkin. “Jesus Christ!” she said, recoiling from the weapon. “You might as well have brought a rattlesnake!” She picked up the pistol by the barrel with thumb and forefinger and handed it to him. “Hide it somewhere,” she said.
Stone took the weapon and tucked it into his belt at the small of his back.
“I remember that you used to go armed, Stone, but that was when you were a policeman. What’s your excuse now?”
“I’m afraid I’m in a rather delicate position,” Stone said.
“An angry husband?”
“Hardly. You remember Dino.”
“How could I forget the ’orrible little man?”
“Some years ago, Dino and I sent someone to prison, and he’s apparently decided to make us pay for it.”
“Who is this person?”
“We don’t know, really. We only know that he’s… tried to harm people close to us.”
“Is that why you didn’t show up for lunch?”
“Yes, it is. I was so glad to hear from you that I completely forgot that I have to be circumspect about whom I see. This started only very recently, and I’m still getting used to the idea that I shouldn’t endanger other people by associating with them.”
“Well, this is really very exciting, isn’t it?”
“I just don’t want it to get too exciting.”
“Surely, you don’t think you’re endangering me simply by having dinner.”
“I took some precautions to see that I wasn’t followed, and there are several police officers downstairs. One of them is operating your elevator.”
Sarah burst out laughing. “This is hilarious,” she said. “I must say, I’ve never had a gun served with champagne.” She sipped the wine. “And Krug! It’s delicious.” She leaned over and kissed him. “And so are you.”
“When did you get back?”
“Yesterday; I’m still not entirely over the jet lag. I came by way of London, saw my parents for a few days.”
“Are you going back to Tuscany?”
“I haven’t decided. I’m back for a show of my work that will open next week – all the work that I’ve done for the past six years.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Stone said.
“I’ll give you a preview; I promise. Now you know that all I have done these past years is cloister myself in Tuscany and work; bring me up to date on you.”
“I’ll give you the short version. What exactly was I doing the last time we saw each other?”
“You were still on the police force, although I heard through friends that you left, and I remember that you had inherited that lovely old house from an aunt, I believe, and you were doing most of the remodeling work yourself.”