Stuart Woods - Bel-Air dead

Stone followed her into the kitchen, where Dino had mixed Hetty a drink from another bar, and Charlene turned on the grill. “How do you like your steaks?” she asked.

Stone marveled at how cool she was, given the circumstances.

Stone woke up the following morning, sprawled across Charlene’s bed, naked. The scent of bacon cooking wafted up from the kitchen. He showered and shaved and went downstairs.

Dino and Hetty were seated at the kitchen table, looking rested and fresh, while Charlene was dishing up scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. They all sat down, and Stone found a Los Angeles Times on the table. A story just above the fold caught his eye: DEATH OF MOVIE

Stone held up the paper for the others. “Did you see this?”

“We were talking about it when you were still asleep,” Dino said. “I wonder who let the press know?”

“I don’t think it was Prince,” Stone said. “Somebody who knows a reporter, I guess.”

“Maybe Rick Barron?” Dino offered.

“Could be,” Stone replied. “Charlene, I think this takes the heat off you, at least a little. The opposition can’t afford two murders in the papers.”

“I’ll stick with my security people for a while,” Charlene replied. “Better safe than dead.”

Stone’s cell phone hummed on his belt. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, getting up and walking out of the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“It’s Eggers.”

“Good morning, Bill.”

“It’s afternoon here.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I spoke to Rex Champion early this morning, offered him thirty-six million. He ranted for a while, then accepted. I’m sending him a deal memo; the price is contingent on our due diligence turning up nothing untoward and on his putting an immediate stop to selling blood stock.”

“That’s great news, Bill.”

“Closing is a week from today.”

“What?”

“I know, I know, but Rex is hard up and needs the cash immediately.”

“How are we going to raise the cash for Arrington that fast?”

“Look, Stone, I know you’re not accustomed to dealing with billionaires, but Woodman amp; Weld is. When one of our clients needs a loan, he doesn’t fill out an application and wait for word from the loan committee. Call Arrington, tell her to instruct Chase to deal with us, and we’ll have it wrapped up in a day or two. And send me her financial statement, so I’ll know what I’m dealing with.”

“You’re dealing with a billion two in investments with Chase; that’s all you need to know.”

“You’re right, it is. I need a letter from Arrington appointing us as her attorneys and authorizing us to act for her. Can you get that faxed to me right away?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from her.” Eggers hung up.

Stone called Arrington. “Good morning,” he said.

“It’s afternoon.”

“Yes, it is. I have good things to report,” he said. “Rex Champion has accepted your offer of thirty-six million dollars for Virginia Champion Farms.”

“That’s wonderful! It’s less than I offered.”

“It’s what you offered,” Stone said. “We thought the extra million was too much.”

She laughed. “Thank you for ignoring my orders.”

“Improving on your orders. Now, we’re closing in a week, and I need some paperwork from you right away. Got a pen and paper?”

“Yes,” she said.

“First write a letter to Woodman amp; Weld saying as follows: ‘Dear Sirs: I herewith appoint your firm as my sole legal representatives, under the supervision of your partner, Stone Barrington.’ ”

“Partner?”

“We’ve been talking about that for months; your business sealed the deal.”

“Well, congratulations!”

“Thank you, ma’am. Please get that typed up on your letterhead, sign it, and fax it.” He gave her the number. “Then mail Bill Eggers the original. Then, as soon as you’ve done that, send the following letter to the person who supervises your accounts at Chase Private Bank. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“ ‘I have appointed the firm of Woodman amp; Weld as my sole legal representatives. You may deal with either Mr. Stone Barrington, the supervising partner on my account, or Mr. William Eggers, the firm’s managing partner, on my behalf.’ ”

“Got it.”

“Fax that to both your Chase banker and Bill Eggers and mail Chase the original.”

“Will do.”

“Time is of the essence,” Stone said. “We have to arrange a bridging loan from Chase right away to close the sale of Champion Farms, so that you won’t have to sell stocks at a loss.”

“I understand.”

“As soon as Eggers and Chase receive your faxes, we’re in business. I’ll have Eggers fax you the deal memo on the sale, which will protect you from undiscovered liabilities.”

“Thank you, Stone, I appreciate your getting this done with such dispatch. What’s happening with the sale of Centurion?”

“There’s been a bad turn of events,” Stone said. He told her about the murder of Jennifer Harris.

“Am I in any danger?”

“No. Just don’t tell Howard Sharp what we’re doing with Champion and don’t talk to him about anything else, either. Write him a letter discharging him and instructing him to overnight all your files to me in New York.”

“I’ll get it done today,” she said. “Bye-bye.”

Stone returned to breakfast.

“Everything okay?” Dino asked.

“Better than okay,” Stone said.

“Did you save Centurion?” Charlene asked.

“Not yet, but that’s next on my to-do list.”

When Stone and Dino left Charlene’s house, there were two men in the front garden and an unmarked van parked out front.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” one of the men said. “May I see some

They both complied.

“Charlene doesn’t waste any time, does she?” Dino said as they got into the car.

“Never, on any occasion, about anything,” Stone replied.

They arrived back at the Bel-Air house. Stone was having a second cup of coffee by the pool when his cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Mike Freeman, Stone.”

“Hello, Mike.”

“I have some preliminary results on the two background checks you asked us to do, on Prince’s chauffeur and executive assistant.”

“Shoot.”

“The chauffeur’s name is Alexei Popov, thirty-one years of age, born Ukraine, emigrated to this country with his parents at age thirteen. He has a juvenile record, now sealed, with charges of vandalism, auto theft and-always a bad sign-cruelty to animals. We couldn’t get the details. He was also charged with a murder-for-hire three years ago, before he went to work for Terrence Prince, but the case against him was dismissed in mid-trial when the main witness against him vanished.”

“Uh-oh,” Stone said.

“Exactly. Now, about Carolyn Blaine: she doesn’t exist.”

“Beg pardon?”

“She owns no property in Los Angeles, has no telephone listing, no registered vehicle, no credit record, and no one by that name has been divorced in L.A. County for the past five years.

The educational institutions you named-Miss Porter’s School, Mount Holyoke, and Wharton have no record of attendance by anyone of that name.”

“Well, well,” Stone said. “I wonder if Mr. Prince is aware that his trusted assistant doesn’t exist.”

“If you like, I can have her followed by someone who might get her fingerprints at some point, and we can run them. That might give us something more to go on.”

“Please do,” Stone said.