Stuart Woods - Bel-Air dead

“Turns out Jim Long didn’t have the right to sell his shares; they were entailed.”

“Oh. How is that going to affect your gaining control of Centurion?”

“I don’t know; nobody knows anything at the moment. The shareholders’ meeting is tomorrow; any suggestions?”

“Yeah, use these funds to buy more shares.”

“None are for sale.”

“Then, unless you’ve got more than fifty percent without Long’s shares, to put it in legal terms, you’re fucked.”

“Well said, Bill.”

“Good luck to you.”

“Thanks so much.” Stone hung up. “Woodman amp; Weld got the funds paid for Long’s shares back, so if the note is in order, we’ll have to surrender the share certificate.”

“Swell,” Rick said.

Dino returned in time for dinner, and they all sat down. “How did your day go, Dino?” Stone asked.

“Nothing I can talk about,” Dino replied. He didn’t look any happier than anyone else.

Manolo came to the table to say that a messenger had arrived from Harvey Stein. Stone got up, retrieved Jim Long’s stock certificate from his briefcase, and went into the house to find Carolyn Blaine, clutching an envelope, waiting for him.

“Since when are you Harvey Stein’s messenger?” Stone asked her.

She handed him the envelope. “I can’t talk about that,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “The note is inside. Did you receive the funds Harvey wired back?”

“Yes,” Stone replied, opening the envelope and removing the photocopy of the note. He read it and found it in perfect order. “I suppose I could insist on seeing the original note before giving you the certificate,” he said.

“It wouldn’t matter,” Carolyn replied. “Jim’s attorney would just object to your voting his shares at the meeting, and you’d be back to square one.”

Stone knew that was true. He handed her the stock certificate and wondered if now would be a good time to tell “Carolyn Blaine” that he knew she was Dolly Parks-a large-scale thief and embezzler and possible murderer. He decided not, that a better time might come, though he couldn’t imagine when that would be, unless it was as the cuffs were being clapped on her beautiful wrists. “Good night,” he said, then turned and went back to the dinner table.

“I hope you found some flaw in the note Jim signed,” Rick said.

“I’m afraid not,” Stone replied. “I couldn’t have written it better myself.”

As the dinner dishes were being taken away Stone’s phone buzzed. “Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Ed Eagle; would you like to come over to the Bel-Air and have a drink with me?”

Stone looked at his watch; only a little past nine. “Sure, Ed, be there in five minutes.” He hung up. “Arrington, Rick, will you excuse me? A friend has asked me to come over to the Bel-Air for a drink, and I’d like to talk to him.”

“Of course,” Arrington said.

“I’ve got to be getting home anyway,” Rick replied. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Dino, you want to join us for a drink?”

“Sure, why not.”

Stone and Dino walked out to the car, accompanied by Rick. Stone opened the car door for him, relieved that a driver waited. “Good night, Rick.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at two, stage four,” Rick said, then was driven away.

Stone and Dino drove the mile to the Bel-Air, abandoned the car to the valet, and walked up to the bar. Ed Eagle sat at a table with Mike Freeman.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Stone said. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“We met only once, a while back, on business,” Ed replied, “but I found him at the bar tonight, so we had dinner together.”

Stone and Dino ordered brandy. “Well, Ed, it seems certain now that your ex-wife has inserted herself into the Centurion deal.” He explained what had happened with the Jennifer Harris and Jim Long shares.

“How the hell did that happen?” Ed asked.

“I can only guess: you told me that she and the woman who now calls herself Carolyn Blaine had known each other in Santa Fe. I think Carolyn must have introduced her to Terry Prince. Maybe his Latin friends are getting cold feet, and he needed a new source of money.”

“I guess that makes a kind of weird sense,” Ed replied.

“Tell me,” Stone said, “in Barbara’s tangled felonious history, is there something she could still be nailed for?”

“Well, let’s see,” Ed said. “She got off for trying to kill me; she got pardoned in Mexico; and she didn’t get charged with trying to kill me the second time, because somebody got to the hit man before the cops could. Besides his murder, there are two others that I’m sure she arranged, but again, nobody is alive to testify against her, so she is, for all practical purposes, beyond the reach of the law. I wish my clients were as lucky.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so helpless,” Stone said. “I had it all together, and now it’s gone. Centurion is going to become a shell of a studio and will probably get snapped up by some conglomerate that knows nothing about making movies.”

“At least Arrington will come out unscathed in the deal,” Ed said.

“Yes, but the studio that produced all the films that made Vance Calder rich, then Arrington, will be gone.”

“Companies come and go,” Mike said. “It’s the American way. Used to be a successful business could endure for a century or more; now they last about as long as restaurants.”

“I’m glad Vance Calder isn’t alive to see this,” Stone said. “He did as much as anyone alive to ensure the success of Centurion. Did you know that he made more than seventy films there, not one of them for another studio?”

“I didn’t know that,” Ed said. “It’s a remarkable record.”

“He also made nearly every one of them for a minimal fee and a percentage of the gross. Every time one of his movies is shown anywhere, Vance-or rather, Arrington-gets a nice check.”

“I guess that in a few years, young Peter will be a very rich fellow,” Mike said.

“Yes, and I’m now his trustee, so it will be up to me to help him hold it together-what’s left of it.”

“Good luck dealing with all that,” Ed said. “It’s more than enough to destroy any young man with too much, too soon.”

“I’m going to try to write the trust documents-with Woodman amp; Weld’s help-in such a way that he’ll be eased into it gradually.”

“I hope, for your sake, Stone,” Ed said, “that nothing happens to Arrington for a long time. You could end up running what’s left of Centurion for Peter.”

“Perish the thought,” Stone said.

“I wish I had something to offer that would help you tomorrow,” Ed said.

“So do I,” Mike echoed.

“At this point,” Stone said, “Nobody can do anything. We’ll just have to let avarice take its course.”

Driving back to the Calder house, Dino said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so sad.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so sad,” Stone said.

Stone slept fitfully, when he slept at all. He had a recurring dream of Terry Prince on a bulldozer, razing the soundstages at Centurion. He finally got out of bed, shaved, showered, dressed, and walked out to the patio.

It was too early for Manolo to be about, but Dino had made a pot of coffee in the guesthouse kitchenette, and he held up a cup for Stone. “Feeling any better?” he asked as Stone took a seat.

“No,” Stone said, “not at all.”

“I wish there were something I could do to help,” Dino said, then he brightened. “Actually, there is something I can do.”

“What?”

“You’ve got Arrington’s signature on the agreement to sell this property to Prince, haven’t you? And his check for twenty-five million dollars?”