Stuart Woods - Bel-Air dead

“What was he like?”

“Like Donald Trump, except with good taste and real money.”

“I’m trying to get my mind around that,” Dino said.

“He’s a very slick article, and I came away impressed, until you told me about Jennifer Harris.”

Stone’s phone buzzed. “Hello?”

“It’s Arrington. What are you doing out there?”

“Dino and I had lunch with Rick Barron today, and then I met with Terrence Prince.”

“And how did that go?”

“Have you ever met or spoken to Mr. Prince, Arrington?”

“No, neither.”

“He seems very cocksure about your selling your shares. Have you indicated to anyone that you intend doing so?”

“Nobody out there.”

“How about at home?”

“My lawyer and accountant.”

“Do you trust them both implicitly?”

“I guess. They’re the same man.”

“Does he have any special qualifications for managing your affairs?”

“I manage my own affairs; he’s the old-line go-to guy, and he has a good reputation, locally, for giving sound advice.”

“What is his name?”

“Howard Sharp.”

“I think you should fire him at once.”

“Why?”

“Because, if what you’ve told me is true, he’s the only person who could have given Terrence Prince the assurance that you’re going to sell your Centurion shares to him, and that is a serious ethical violation. It means you can’t trust the man.”

“And who should replace him, you?”

“No, I don’t have all the skills required to advise you in a credible way. However, Woodman amp; Weld does, and if you become their client, I can see that you get their best attention.”

“What can they do for me that Howard Sharp can’t?”

“They can keep your confidences, for a start. They can also tell you how much you should pay for Champion Farms.”

“Will you ask them to offer an opinion on that?”

“They already have,” Stone said. “Thirty-five million at the most, thirty-eight, if you’re fond of Rex Champion and want to be generous with him.”

“And how did they arrive at that number?”

“Through due diligence,” Stone replied. “Something Mr. Sharp is not acquainted with, apparently. Tell me, did Mr. Sharp recommend that you pay fifty million for the farms?”

“Yes, he said it was a steal.”

“Does he also represent Rex Champion?”

“I don’t know-possibly.”

“He sounds like trouble to me.”

Arrington was silent for a moment. “Why does Woodman amp; Weld think Rex will sell for thirty-five million?”

“Because he’s nearly bankrupt, and he’s selling off his breeding stock for the cash to keep going.”

“He assured me that both he and the business were doing well.”

“Then he’s desperate, and that has made him a liar.”

“I don’t relish looking him in the eye and offering him fifteen million less than he’s asking, and I don’t like putting his back against the wall.”

“You shouldn’t do that, you should let me or Bill Eggers do it, and, as Bill has suggested, if you want to be generous with him, you can offer him thirty-eight million.”

Arrington thought about it for a moment. “Offer him thirty-six million,” she said.

“Is that a firm price, or are you going to wiggle?”

“I’ll go to thirty-seven million, if I have to.”

“I think you should make him a take-it-or-leave-it offer, and walk away if he doesn’t accept.”

“All right, offer him thirty-seven million. If he accepts it, I’ll hire Woodman amp; Weld, provided you supervise their work.”

“Consider it done. In the meantime, don’t fire Howard Sharp, and don’t say anything to him that might make him think that you’re not going to sell Terrence Prince your shares.”

“All right, but I haven’t changed my mind about selling Prince my shares. I still need the money to pay Rex for the farms.”

“Here’s my first piece of advice as your new attorney: don’t sell a billion-dollar investment in order to raise thirty-seven million.”

“Well, all right, but where am I going to get the money?”

“Do you have a financial statement?”

“Yes, current as of a couple of weeks ago. Howard Sharp helped me get it together.”

“Fax it to me here, and give me your permission to share it with Woodman amp; Weld. We’ll find a way for you to have your cake and eat it, too.”

“I like the sound of that,” she said.

“And remember, not a word to Sharp about anything. Make him think nothing has changed. If he presses you for an answer on selling your Centurion shares, tell him you’re working on organizing things.”

“Why do you think Howard Sharp is in Prince’s pocket?”

“Because he’s the only one who could betray you, and Prince has apparently bought him. Sharp has probably given him your financial statement.”

“The son of a bitch,” she said with some heat.

“Keep cool, and don’t let on anything.”

“I’ll fax you the financial statement first thing in the morning; I’m on the way out to a dinner party now.”

“That’s fine,” Stone said. He hung up the phone.

“You didn’t tell her that the last person to refuse to sell her Centurion shares to Prince was murdered,” Dino pointed out.

“I didn’t want to panic her,” Stone said, “and she’s in no danger as long as Prince thinks she will sell.”

“I hope you’re right about that,” Dino said.

Stone found Carolyn Blaine’s house easily enough, on Camden Drive, off Sunset. From its generous size he reckoned that either she had family money or she had had a good divorce. No ordinary executive assistant could pay the property taxes out of her salary, he thought.

Carolyn didn’t ask him in; she came to the door with her purse and a shawl in her hand. “Let’s have our first drink at the restaurant,” she said.

Stone installed her in the Mercedes. “Where to?”

“Is Spago Beverly Hills all right?”

“One of my favorites,” Stone said.

“I managed to get a table in the garden,” she said.

Ten minutes later they were being seated among L.A.’s filmland glitterati, including a pair of movie stars and several faces familiar from television. Carolyn ordered a martini and Stone stuck with his usual Knob Creek.

“What’s Knob Creek?” Carolyn asked.

“My favorite bourbon.”

“The brown stuff?”

“American corn whiskey, this one aged for nine years. It’s the patriotic thing to drink, instead of all that foreign swill. Abraham Lincoln lived in a log cabin on Knob Creek, in Kentucky.”

Their drinks arrived, and she tasted his bourbon. “Not bad,” she said. “I like it better than scotch.”

“Smart woman,” Stone said. They clinked glasses and drank.

“So, was our having dinner Terrence Prince’s idea?” he asked.

“It was entirely mine,” she replied. “He doesn’t know about it.” She looked around. “Of course, he knows a lot of the people here, so it won’t be a secret for long.”

“I don’t care if he knows,” Stone said. “It won’t affect the business we have to do.”

“Why not?”

“Aha, that’s what Mr. Prince would ask.”

“I’m curious about this transaction, but purely on a personal basis,” she said.

“Prince wants to buy most of the land owned by Centurion Studios, so that he can build a hotel and some office buildings and condos.”

“Funny,” she said, “I haven’t seen the plans for that.”

“How about a model?”

She shook her head. “Terry only uses models when he has to educate investors. How much is he offering?”

“That’s not final, yet; somewhere between two and three billion dollars.”