Stuart Woods - Dead In The Water

"That's one way of looking at it," Stone said.

"Well, I had expected to pay half a million."

"Then I saved you a hundred thousand dollars." He sat down at the table and sipped his wine. "Funny, I feel bad about it, for some reason."

"You sure you don't want a lamb chop?"

"I'm happy with my wine."

She sat down across from him and dug into her dinner. "Why would you feel bad?"

"I felt sorry for her, I guess."

"I don't; why should you?"

"Well, she's been struggling along for the ten years since her divorce on not a hell of a lot of money from Paul, plus whatever she got for writing some column for some local paper in Palm Beach, and that's not the cheapest place in the world to live. She said the column didn't pay much, but it got her to all the parties. I just have this vision of her growing old in Palm Beach with nothing."

"She's got four hundred thousand dollars," Allison said, savaging a lamb chop. "I don't call that nothing."

"You're right; I guess she's better off than she was before she came down here. I hope she doesn't blow it all on high living."

"If she does, it would serve her right, taking all that money from a poor widow."

"A very rich widow."

"Not very rich."

He felt unaccountably exasperated with her. "Come on, Allison, you're fixed for life-not like poor Libby."

"And how do you know I'm fixed for life?" she said, pausing in her attack on the chop.

"I have my sources," Stone said.

She cocked her head and looked at him with mock suspicion. "Stone Barrington, have you been checking up on me"

"Checking up on people is a big part of my work," he said.

"And just what did you find out?"

"That you're who you say you are, and Paul was who you say he was, and you're very rich, that's all. You couli easily afford the four hundred grand."

"I hope you didn't find out anything bad about me," she said, resuming her dinner.

"No, I didn't. Is there something bad about you I should know?"

"Only in my own mind, I guess."

"You been thinking bad thoughts about yourself?"

"Well, I seduced you, when I knew perfectly well that you had a girl."

"I wouldn't feel too badly about that; I knew what I was doing. I was mad at Arrington for not showing up down here and even madder at her, for running off to California."

"With Vance Calder."

"Yeah, with Vance Calder. I have to admit, that didn't sit too well."

"So I just got lucky and caught you in a weak moment?"

"There wasn't all that much luck involved," Stone said ruefully. "I have a lot of weak moments."

"You mean you weren't faithful to Arrington, even before you met me?"

"Oh, yes, I was faithful to her, but not out of trying to be; we were just together all the time, and I was content, and I didn't give much thought to other women."

"Were you living together?"

"Yes."

"I sometimes wish I'd lived with somebody before Paul. Maybe I would have had a better idea of what it was like to be married." She was uncharacteristically quiet as she took her dishes to the galley.

"Is something else bothering you?" he asked.

"I guess I've been feeling a little guilty about how much fun we've been having. The sex, I mean; that's the only fun I've had lately. I mean, Paul's only been dead for a short time, and I confess, I've already been looking forward to a new kind of life." She smiled at him. "In addition to inordinately enjoying your body." She sat down beside him and held his hand.

"And I yours," he said, smiling. "And I don't think you have anything to feel guilty about. What happened at sea wasn't your fault; you did the best you could in the circumstances. You go right ahead and look forward to that new life." If you have one, he thought. If I can somehow pull off an acquittal.

"Are you going to be in this new life of mine?" she asked.

"That remains to be seen," he said. "I do have some unresolved issues to take care of."

"When they're resolved, I'd like to know about it."

"I think I can promise you that. But you're going to be a very popular lady, you know. Men are going to come of the woodwork. They'll all want your money; you'll to be careful."

"I will be. You want to go to bed?"

"If you don't mind, I think I'll sleep on my boat

"Going off me?" she asked, pouting.

"Not in the least." He kissed her lightly. "I'm tired, though; the negotiation with Libby seems have taken a lot out of me, and I ought to write to Arrington. She probably thinks I'm sulking."

"Okay, you do that; I'll see you in the morning."

He got up. "By the way, you should fax the Libby document to your lawyer and have him let your banker know that check is coming through. It's a very large amount, and it will make him nervous if he's not expecting it. And whatever you do, don't have second thoughts and stop payment. All hell would break loose."

"I'll write him a note and take it over to Thomas tonight," she said.

He kissed her again, and left her yacht for his own.

He wrote Arrington what was, for him, a long letter; the longest he had ever written anybody-two pages. He apologized for being incommunicative and told her about Allison's case, though he knew she would have seen the papers. Then he got romantic-unusual for him-and by the time he had signed the letter, he began worrying about faxing something so personal to her L.A. hotel; he didn't want some clerk reading it. Then he had a better idea. He would take care of it in the morning.

Some time after he had fallen asleep he stirred, hearing footsteps on the dock; Allison returning from the inn, he guessed. Then he fell asleep again and heard nothing else.

When Stone woke it was seven-thirty, and he jumped out of bed and into some clothes; he didn't want to miss Libby's departure, still harboring a lingering fear that she might not, after all, leave. He grabbed the letter to Arrington and ran toward the inn, zipping up his trousers. He arrived at the bar in time to see Thomas disappear around a corner, going toward the parking lot with some suitcases. "Thomas," he called, "where do you keep the Federal Express packaging?" "Under the bar,"Thomas called back. "See you later; I've got to get Mrs.Manning to the airport. We're running late."

"Just give me a minute to address…" But Thomas was gone. Stone grabbed a FedEx envelope and ran after him. Thomas was pulling out of the parking lot when he flagged down the car and jumped in the back seat. "Morning, Libby," he said. "I'll come to the airport with you, if you don't mind."

"Sure, why not?" she said. She was wearing the straw hat in which she had arrived.

"Thomas, have you got a pen?"

Thomas handed one back to him.

"Libby, I'd appreciate it if, when you get to Miami, you'd drop this into the nearest Federal Express bin for me. I want it to be in California tomorrow."

"Sure, glad to," she replied.

"Nothing you can fax?" Thomas asked.

"No, I want it delivered." He sealed the letter into the envelope and handed it to Libby, who put it into her large handbag. "You're sure this is no trouble?"

"Of course not; it's like mailing a letter-they have those bins all over the airport."

"I appreciate it," Stone said.

"Do you always drive this fast?" Libby asked Thomas, fastening her seat belt. "No, but we're running late, and I don't want Chester to leave you behind. He has to keep to a schedule."

"We were half an hour late arriving in St.Marks," she said. "Chester owes me. Besides, if you hadn't been delivering breakfast to somebody or other, we wouldn't be late. I was on time."

"I didn't know you offered room service, Thomas," Stone said.

"I took Jim Forrester up some food; took him his dinner last night, too, but he couldn't keep it down."