Stuart Woods - Kisser

“So she really is a police detective?”

“She is.”

“That’s what Tom, her driver, said.”

“Tom is a cop, too. He’s Mitzi’s partner.”

She pushed him onto the sofa and sat beside him. “All right, I want to hear the whole story.”

“I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest version,” he said, and he managed it in a few sentences. “And you should stay away from Derek Sharpe,” he told her.

“I can see that,” she said. “Anyway, I hate his stuff. I don’t know why anyone would buy it.”

“You have excellent taste.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, getting up and stripping off her sweater and tights. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said. “You want to buy me dinner later?”

“Sure.”

“Can we go to Elaine’s and see Dino?”

“I’m fairly certain he’ll be there; he always is.”

She dropped her clothes into a hamper and took off her bra and panties.

Stone was impressed all over again. She had a dancer’s body: slim with long muscles and high breasts. She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower without closing the door. Stone was happy to watch. When she came out, drying herself with a towel, she gave him a long look, then locked the door and sat on his lap, facing him.

“Your lips become fuller when you’re turned on,” Stone said. “That’s some kisser you’ve got there.”

She kissed him. “That’s what the lips are for,” she said, then slid to the floor, unzipped his fly, and showed him how else the kisser could be used.

Afterward, Stone fell asleep, waiting for her to get dressed.

DINO DIDN’T SEEM surprised to see them. Stone ordered them drinks.

“Dino,” Carrie said, “you were very naughty last night not to tell me about Mitzi being a cop and all.”

“You aren’t supposed to know about that,” Dino said, shooting Stone a sharp glance.

“She turned up at Derek Sharpe’s studio, unannounced,” Stone said in his defense.

“Do I have to tell you everything I do?” Carrie asked, sipping her drink.

“You have to tell me when you decide to go to Atlanta,” Stone said.

“I’ll do that,” she said.

“You didn’t do that,” he replied.

Her jaw dropped. “How did you find out?”

“Why, it was all over ‘Page Six’ in the Post,” Stone said. “ ‘Crazy Dancer/Actress to Visit Her Atlanta Ex-husband, Who Wants to Kill Her.’ Didn’t you see it?”

She laughed. “It was not.”

“Tell me,” Stone said, “what was the point of our pulling out all the stops to keep you safe if you’re going to go running into his arms at the first opportunity?”

“It’s not like that,” she said.

“What is it like?”

“A mutual friend has offered to mediate the settlement,” Carrie said.

“You told me you already had a settlement.”

“There are a few loose ends,” she said. “Dear Max has bounced back financially with the help of a Saudi prince, who has a house in Atlanta. I’m told he’s actually better off now than he was before.”

“I’m told that, too,” Stone said. “So you’re going to hold him up for more?”

“For more cash. He was strapped a year ago, so I took not very liquid assets.”

“There’s nothing like cash,” Stone said. “It makes a wonderful motive for murder. What makes you so sure Max won’t be meeting your flight and taking you for a little ride?”

“I know what would make you feel better about this,” Carrie said. “Come with me.”

Stone was brought up short. He had no desire to go to Atlanta, but having made a fuss about it, he could hardly say no. “All right,” he said.

“I’ll book you on the same flight,” she said. “And I’ve already booked a suite at the Ritz-Carlton Buckhead.”

“Who else is going to be at this meeting?” Stone asked.

“Max’s lawyer and our mutual friend, a lawyer named Ed Garland.”

“I know Ed,” Stone said. “Had you planned to do this without an attorney of your own?”

“I was going to ask you,” she said, “and I would have last night, if you hadn’t marched me out of Derek Sharpe’s studio.”

“I’m sorry I had to do that,” Stone said.

“I’m sorry you had to do that, too,” she replied. “I apologize for my behavior.”

“No need to apologize.”

Dino spoke up. “Does anybody want to order dinner? Or do you two want to get a room?”

“Dinner now, room later,” Carrie said, shooting Stone a leer. “You owe me.” She picked up a menu.

“I do, and I’ll pay,” Stone promised.

STONE WAS AT HIS DESK the following morning when Bill Eggers called.

“Good morning, Bill,” Stone said.

“Can you give me a progress report on the Parsons problem?”

“I can,” Stone said. “I’ve arranged for a female police detective to be dangled before Derek Sharpe, pretending to be an heiress from South Carolina. Actually, she’s not pretending, because that’s what she is.”

“Go on.”

“The idea is that, having loosened him up with a displayed interest in buying his work, she will attempt to buy drugs from him. If that works, he’s off the street.”

“I like that,” Eggers said, sounding surprised.

“Why do you sound surprised?” Stone asked.

“Well, frankly, I hadn’t expected such fast action with the promise of such permanent results.”

“This hasn’t worked yet, Bill,” Stone replied. “Things can go wrong, and the detective is placing herself at some risk.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Have you spoken with Philip Parsons about this?”

“He’s being kept apprised by a staff member of his gallery.”

“And he’s happy?”

“I’ve no reason to think that he’s not.”

“Good work, Stone. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Bill, but be proud when it’s done.”

“I’ll be proud then, too. Good-bye.” Eggers hung up.

Carrie, holding the straps of her duffel, appeared in his office. “Our flight is in two hours,” she said.

“Where’d you get the clothes?”

“From your closet. Didn’t you notice they were there?”

“Nope.”

“Where are your clothes?” she asked, her head cocked to one side, hand on hip.

“They’re in my closet, too,” Stone replied.

“Had you planned to take some with you?”

“What will I need?”

“Something to make you look lawyerly at our meeting and whatever else you need. We’ll be flying home tomorrow.”

“I’ll be right back,” Stone said, rising from his desk.

JOAN DROVE them to LaGuardia in Stone’s car, and their flight was on time. They were on the airplane before Stone realized that he would rather be flying himself. Well, at least they were in first class.

They were met by a car and driver at Hartsfield International and driven to the Ritz-Carlton.

“What time is our meeting?” Stone asked.

“Four o’clock.”

“Why aren’t we returning to New York tonight?”

“In case we need a second meeting tomorrow.”

THEY ARRIVED AT Ed Garland’s office on time and were greeted warmly by Garland, with whom Stone had previously worked on a case, and coolly by Max Long and his attorney. The meeting was called to order, and Stone sat silently while Carrie enumerated her demands. He tried not to hold his breath.

Long’s attorney opened his mouth to speak, but Max stopped him. “Yes,” he said.

“We’ll take yes for an answer,” Stone said. “Ed, can I borrow a typist for a moment? We’ll get this signed now.”

“Sure, Stone.”

Half an hour later, both parties signed, and Max Long wrote a large check. Everyone shook hands and parted.