Double Jeopardy (Stone Barrington #57)(15)

“Well, if the scent of your blood isn’t enough to move the boys off square one, I don’t know what is,” Rawls said.

“One thing we have on our side is that the twins have a lot more to lose than they used to. In fact, they seem to have just about everything they want in the world, except that house.”

“Have they got a boat?” Rawls asked.

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“A boating accident is always good.”

“Let’s hope they get a boat,” Stone said.

“Let’s hope they get a gasoline-powered one. I mean, if you’re looking for a tragic accident to happen, gasoline is always a good place to start.”

“Your view is so reasonable, it’s hard to argue with it,” Stone said.

“If you’re in the mood to employ gasoline, why not just commit a little arson on their house, as soon as they buy it?” Rawls asked.

“Because renovating it will keep them busy for a while. When it’s all done and ready to move into, then’s the time to torch it.”

“Not after they move in and are fast asleep?”

“That’s an inviting thought.”

Dino broke in. “You forget that these kids have stayed alive and well in prison for several years. They must be good at it.”

“I can tell you from experience,” said Rawls, who had done some time in his past, “that one gains wariness as a normal state of mind.”

“And they can take turns sleeping,” Dino pointed out.

“This is a problem we don’t have to solve before we finish this drink,” Stone said.

“You have a point,” Rawls agreed.

“Since we’re in a murderous mood,” Stone said, “why don’t we just let the idea roll around our occipital lobes. After it’s simmered there for a while, it might just, willy-nilly, develop into a plan that we could act on.”

“The best thing about your plan,” Dino said, “is that we don’t have to do anything until later.” He tossed off the remainder of his drink, and Sally approached with the Scotch.

“Just leave the bottle, darlin’,” Rawls said, reaching for it.





14

Stone and Dino got into the MG, negotiated the two security gates, and headed toward home.

“It occurs to me,” Dino said, “that we haven’t found an interesting woman for you.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Why don’t we pop into the shop for an ice cream cone? That should do it. Pull over.”

“The ice cream part of that sounds good,” Stone said, turning into a parking space. They got out and walked up the steps to the porch. Stone could not help but notice that a tallish blonde in tweedy clothes sat, stretched out in a rocker, absorbed in licking a cone with her left hand, which gave Stone the opportunity to spot the bare third finger. He stopped. “That looks like a very interesting ice cream cone,” he said. “What is the flavor?”

“Bourbon praline,” she replied and returned to licking it.

Stone went into the shop and ordered a two-scooper, while Dino perused the Times, then he walked back outside. “May I join you?” Stone asked, indicating the rocker conveniently empty beside her.

“Please, do,” she slurped.

“I took your advice,” Stone said, contemplating his cone.

“It wasn’t advice, just information,” she replied.

Stone tried it. “If it had been advice,” he said, “it would have been very good.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Usually,” he said, “when I enjoy bourbon, I take it directly from the source.”

“The barrel?”

“Just the bottle. Sometimes with a straw.”

Dino came out of the shop, the paper tucked under his arm. “Are you ready?” he asked Stone.

“I’m just getting started,” Stone replied. “Go get yourself some bourbon praline. She recommends it.” He nodded at the woman.

“How can I resist?” Dino asked, disappearing into the shop.

“That was my friend, Dino,” he said to the woman.

“Is he an interesting person?”

“Usually.”

“He appears to be from south of here.”

“Way south,” Stone said. “He’s the police commissioner of New York City.”

“That is interesting.”

“I try to travel with a bodyguard.”

“Do others seek your demise?” she drawled. Her accent was Brahmin New England, and broad.

“From time to time. Dino must not suspect you, since he has left us alone.”

“He may have misjudged me,” she said.

“I hope not. My name is Stone Barrington.” He offered her a hand, and she shook it with long fingers.

“I am Hester Primrose.”

Stone suppressed a laugh. “Really?”

“Really. But you may call me Primmy. Everyone I like does.”

“What do those you don’t like call you?”

“Hester. Can you imagine?”

“I cannot. Primmy, if I may be so bold, are you a free woman?”

She turned and looked at him directly for the first time with bright blue eyes, to go with the blond ponytail. “In every sense of the word,” she replied.