“They’ve certainly had time to get to Europe,” Stone said.
“I’m just glad nobody’s dead,” Harry said. “Visitors here get hurt a lot—motor scooter accidents, scuba diving, bikes hit by cars—and about once a year some drunken spring-breaker will take a dive off the end of the White Street Pier into three feet of water and break his neck, never mind all the shallow-water-no-diving signs. But this is the first time I can remember when a sniper took a shot at somebody, and it rankles. The only hired killers we’ve ever dealt with were brought in by drug dealers to kill other drug dealers, and their practice is to walk up behind a guy and shoot him twice in the head.”
“Is that still happening?”
“No, the drug trade here is pretty much small-time, now. Oh, once in a while a few bales of marijuana wash up on a beach or a fisherman is found with a fish stuffed with a few kilos of cocaine, but that’s about it.”
“Anything Dino or I can do to help?”
“No, I just thought I’d tell you about the weapon and the car.”
“Thanks, Harry, I’m glad to hear how it’s going.” Stone got into his car, where Meg was waiting, and told her what Harry had said.
“Maybe it wasn’t Bellini,” she said. “Maybe it wasn’t me the shooter was aiming at.”
“That’s possible, but when I take you back to New York, we’re going to pretend you’re in terrible danger.”
“Are you taking me back to New York?”
“You said you wanted to look at apartments, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did, so I should consider this an invitation?”
“Unless you want me to just throw a sack over your head, sling you over my shoulder, and carry you onto the airplane.”
“As romantic as that sounds, I think I’ll just accept your invitation.”
“Good idea,” Stone said.
6
Stone woke up beside Meg Harmon, and he thought for a moment how nice it was to share a bed.
Meg’s eyelids fluttered. “Where am I?” she asked.
“In New York,” Stone replied. “Don’t you remember? I threw a bag over your head, slung you over my shoulder, and flew you out of Key West.”
She sat up and looked around the room. Stone admired her breasts. “This isn’t New York,” she said.
“My mistake—we’re still in Key West.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’m not tired of Key West yet.”
“I hope that’s not all you’re not tired of,” Stone replied. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
Stone picked up the phone and buzzed Anna in the kitchen. “The usual,” he said, “but for two.”
“You are very hungry today,” Anna replied.
“Two plates, please.” He hung up and turned to Meg. “What would you like to do until breakfast arrives?”
“Watch TV,” she replied. “Ask me again after breakfast.” She fell back onto the bed.
Stone turned on Morning Joe.
* * *
—
AFTER THE BREAKFAST DISHES had been removed from the bed, Stone asked Meg again, and she made a different suggestion. After he had respected her wishes and cooled down, Stone excused himself and picked up the phone.
“The Barrington Practice,” Joan said, “sometimes known as Woodman & Weld.”
“It’s me,” he said.
“I know, I recognized your breathing.”
“Who owns the rental house in Key West?”
“It’s the rental agents’ policy not to reveal the name of the owners. I think they’re afraid that, next time, you’ll call them direct.”
“Please call them and ask if the house is for sale.”
“I don’t need to call them, they told me at the outset that it was for sale.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to set you off on another house-buying jag.”
“I buy houses one at a time, not in jags. How much are they asking?”
Joan told him.
“Offer them twenty-five percent less, and tell them I won’t consider a counteroffer, just yes or no.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
“Call me back when you have the owner’s answer.”
“Roger.” They hung up.
“You’re going to buy the house?” Meg asked.
“No, I’ve offered them too little, and when they turn me down I’ll forget about it. It’s how I keep from buying too many houses.”
“Your mind works in weird ways.”
“What’s weird about that?”
“It’s weird to make an offer for a house you don’t want.”
“I suppose it’s a little unusual, but I wouldn’t go as far as weird.”
“Trust me, it’s weird,” she said. “Where do you presently have houses?”
“In Los Angeles, Paris, London, and the south of England.”
“How about New York?”
“Yes, in New York. Oh, and Maine—I forgot Maine.”
“Why so many houses?”
“I don’t like hotels, so when I go somewhere I like, I’d rather stay at home. But I like my houses to be run like hotels.”
Meg shook her head. “This just gets weirder and weirder.”
“How long have you been a billionaire?” Stone asked.
“A few months.”
“How many houses have you bought since then?”
“Only one.”
“But now you’re shopping for something in New York?”
“Yes, but that will only make two.”
“And you think you’ll be finished when you have two houses?”
“Well,” she said, “I think I might like a place in Ireland.”
“Where else?”
“Maybe the South of France.”
“All right, you’re up to four houses.”
“But I haven’t bought that many.”
“Only because you haven’t had time,” Stone said. “Stick around.”
The phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Joan. They’ve accepted your offer.”
“What?”
“You’ve just bought yourself another house.”
“They accepted twenty-five percent off the ask?”
“Yes, and that includes the car and the golf cart, too.”
“When do they want to close?”
“Today,” she said.
“Nobody closes today.”
“They said that Jack Spottswood has all the paperwork ready to go. You can go in anytime today and sign the documents. I’ll wire the funds right away. Anything else?”
“I can’t think of anything,” Stone muttered.
“Good. I’ll get the utilities transferred to your name as soon as you have title.”
“Thank you,” Stone said weakly, then hung up.
“I take it you’ve just bought another house,” Meg said.
“I didn’t mean to,” Stone said. “It was an accident.”
“Any psychiatrist will tell you there are no accidents. In this case, you made an offer, and they accepted. It’s really hard to buy a house accidentally.”
“I didn’t even have it inspected. What if it has termites? I’ve heard they have termites in Key West.”
“You can have it inspected, and if you have termites, you can have it tented.”
“What’s that?”
“They throw a big tent over the place, run you out, and pump a lot of termite-killing stuff into the tent. Takes about a day.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, the place seems to be in fabulous shape. The owner has probably already had it tented.”
“I’ll ask,” Stone said. He called Joan.
“Hi there, what a surprise to hear from you.”
“Yeah, yeah, call the rental agent and find out if the house has been tented for termites.”
“It was tented last week,” Joan said.
“Okay. Tell the agent that the house won’t be rented anymore.”
“Okay.”
“And call Arthur Steele’s office and have the house put on my homeowner’s insurance policy.”
“Already done. Anything else?”
“Yes. I want to know who the seller is.”
“Arthur Steele.”
7
Stone drove to Fleming Street, to the offices of Spottswood, Spottswood & Spottswood and climbed the steep stairs.
Jack Spottswood greeted him in his office with a handshake and a smile.
Stone settled into a chair and took a few deep breaths.
“Would you like a glass of water?” Jack asked.
“Thanks, I’m fine.”
“There’s an elevator, you know.”
“I must have missed that. I’ll tell you a law firm joke,” he said.
“Shoot,” Jack replied.
“A man calls a law office, and a man answers, ‘Spottswood, Spottswood & Spottswood.’
“The caller says, ‘May I speak to Mr. Spottswood, please?’
“‘I’m sorry, Mr. Spottswood died some years ago.’
“‘Then may I speak to Mr. Spottswood?’