Double Jeopardy (Stone Barrington #57)(19)

“I expect so. If it matters, I have a policy of not pursuing women who have more money than I.”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

“As long as you don’t expect an honest answer.”

She laughed. “Not that personal.”

“Shoot.”

“How much money do you have?”

“That’s not only personal, but rude. You first.”

“I believe that’s called being hoisted on my own petard.”

“If you’re not willing to answer the question, why should I?”

“All right, after the most recent divorce, I’m left nearly penniless. About twenty million bucks. Now you.”

“More than you,” Stone replied.

“That’s not fair!”

“Why not? It should allay your fears.”

“Really now!”

“All right, a lot more than you.”

“That’s a little better. I suppose I’m going to have to work harder at this. How many houses do you have?”

“Let’s see.” Stone counted on his fingers. “New York, here, Los Angeles, Paris, London, Beaulieu, in Hampshire. I’m out of fingers.”

“Are there mortgages on any of them?”

“No.”

“I’m feeling better now. Do you own an airplane?”

“Two.”

“What sort?”

“A Gulfstream 500 and a small Cessna, kept here, for getting to and from Rockland Airport.”

“Congratulations,” she said, “you are fully qualified.”

“For what?”

“To pursue my virtue, but not my fortune.”

“Come closer,” he said.

She hipped her way across the sofa and threw a leg over his. “Will that do?”

“It’s a good start. You know, with the twins hovering about, I don’t think you should go home alone in the dark.”

“Then you’ll drive me?”

“No. I have only two cars, and neither is suitable for repelling boarders.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to offer me a bed.”

“There’s only one available, and it’s already occupied.”

“By whom?”

“By me.”

“Will you share?”

“I will.”

She kissed him long enough to arouse his interest. “Will you carry me upstairs?”

“Sorry, bad back.”

“So, I’ll have to carry you?”

“I can manage on my own, if you can.”

“Let’s find out,” she said, grabbing her snifter and heading for the stairs.

Stone followed. “Turn right at the top. A left would cause embarrassment for everyone.”

She turned right.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

Stone switched on a small lamp. “Yours is there,” he said, pointing.

“Be right back.”

He lit the fire and got into bed.

“Ooh, a fire!” she said, striding toward him, naked.

“You look very nice by firelight,” he said.

“Now, that’s just the sort of thing a man should say to get a girl interested.”

“You look very nice, naked, by firelight.”

She climbed into bed and into his arms. “There,” she said, with satisfaction.

It took a bit longer to satisfy Stone.





18

Ed Rawls was taking out his trash early the next morning when he heard what, to his ear, sounded like a column of armored vehicles approaching his gate, from the direction of the village. Instinctively, he took cover behind the structure that held his refuse cans, and to his surprise, the column turned out to be vehicles of the building trades. First was a dump truck, apparently empty, followed by a backhoe on a trailer, three large vans, emblazoned with the name of a Camden builder, then the vans of an electrician and a plumber, then a small bus, which seemed to hold about a dozen men. They passed by and disappeared down the road to the point. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he said, when the noise had melted away.



* * *



—



After breakfast, he and Sally took his boat out and cruised slowly down the bay toward the southern tip of the island. Eventually, the old house came into view. It had the appearance of a beehive, crawling with worker bees. The roof looked good, he thought. Somebody had put a new one on three or four years ago, he remembered. He got out his binoculars and let the boat drift.

The dump truck was being filled with chunks of plaster, but he didn’t see any stacks of drywall waiting, so, he reasoned, they must intend to replaster the interior. To confirm his notion, he saw a plasterer’s truck pull up to the house, a little late to the party.

“Ed,” Sally said, peering through her own binoculars, “if you were doing up this house, how would you go about it?”

“I think,” he said, “just about the same way they’re doing it, if I had the money. I’d rip out the old plaster, then set the plumber replumbing and the electrician rewiring. And when they finished, I’d replaster. The roof’s okay, the floorboards are sturdy, I imagine.”