Stuart Woods - Cold Paradise

“I’m sorry, I meant incompetent in the legal sense, not otherwise. Unless you are willing to make a case to a court that she is not currently able to account for herself and her actions, then she is legally entitled to do and go as she pleases. Removing her to New York from another state could pose problems.”

“Stone, I understand this, and I am grateful for your advice, but you must understand that, in my family, we are accustomed to solving our problems without the help of, ah, public officials. If I can locate Dolce, I can achieve the reunification I desire.”

“Of course, Eduardo. I don’t doubt for a moment that you can.”

“You say that Dino is with you? I had not heard this.”

“Dino came down to help me with another matter, one not connected to Dolce.”

“I see. Well, it is good that he is there; you may well need his help. I need hardly tell you that Dolce may be a danger to herself and to you.”

“I hope you are wrong, but I understand,” Stone said. “If I should locate Dolce, what would you have me do?”

“Simply call me, and I will do the rest,” Eduardo said. “Please don’t try to deal with her yourself. From what her doctors have told me, she could be very dangerous.”

“Eduardo, if Dolce should be traveling under a name not her own, is there a name she might choose to use?”

Eduardo was silent while he thought. “Once, when she was sixteen, she ran away after a quarrel with me. At that time, she used the name Portia Buckingham. It was a ridiculous name for a schoolgirl to choose, I know, but it was a kind of fantasy identity she made up as a child. She might possibly use it again.”

“Would you like me to make some discreet inquiries?” Stone asked.

“Only if you can do so without involving the local police,” Eduardo replied. “I do not wish for Dolce to be brought to the attention of the authorities, unless she tries to harm someone.”

“There’s not much I can do on my own,” Stone said, “but I’ll try.”

“Ask Dino for his help. She is his sister-in-law, after all.”

“I’ll do that.” Stone told Eduardo how he could be contacted.

“Goodbye, Stone, and thank you for your concern for Dolce.”

“Goodbye, Eduardo.” Stone hung up.

Dino sat down beside him. “You called Eduardo?”

“I felt I had to. He’s sending people down here.”

“Great, now we’ll have goombahs roaming the streets of this piss-elegant town.”

“Dino, you know Eduardo is more subtle than that.”

“We’ll see.”

“He wants your help in finding her.”

“What can I do?”

Stone handed him a Palm Beach classified directory. “Start calling hotels. Flash your badge. Inquire about her under her own name and under the name Portia Buckingham.”

“ Portia Buckingham ? Give me a break!”

“It’s a name she used to fantasize about having when she was a child, Eduardo says.”

Dino shook his head and took the phone book. “I’ll use the phone in the saloon,” he said.

“Don’t alarm anybody, just find out if she’s registered.”

“Thanks, Stone. I needed that advice.” Dino went into the saloon.

“Leave a description with the desk clerk, too,” Stone called after him.

Stone called his office. “Hi, Joan, it’s me. What’s happening?”

“Amazingly little,” she said.

“Patch me into the dictator,” he said. “I have some documents I’d like you to type up and FedEx to me today.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Here you go.”

Stone heard the beep and began to dictate. When he had finished and given Joan her instructions, he hung up and went into the saloon. Dino was just hanging up the phone.

“ I need the phone book for a minute,” Stone said.

Dino tossed it to him. “I’ve called half a dozen places, starting with the Breakers.”

“No luck, I suppose?”

“She’s already checked in and out of two-the Breakers and the Brazilian Court, under Rosaria Bianchi.”

“You’re kidding. That was easy.”

“Not so easy, pal. She’s moving every day, and that’s going to make her harder to find.”

“Oh. Well, at least we know she’s really in town.”

“That, we know.”

“Will you call Eduardo and tell him that?”

“Okay, I guess.” Dino did not like dealing directly with his father-in-law, but he seemed willing to make an exception this time. He picked up the phone and dialed the number.

Stone began looking in the phone book under airports, and when he found what he was looking for made the call.

Dino finished his conversation with Eduardo. “What are you up to?” he asked Stone.

“I told our friend Mr. James that I was on the west coast of Florida, a couple of hours’ drive from Palm Beach airport. I want him to go on thinking that until we get this settled.” He made the arrangements he required, then hung up. “There, I guess I’ve done what I can.” He picked up the phone again. “I’ll make some of the hotel calls. You don’t mind if I use your name, do you?”

“When did I ever mind?” Dino asked. “When did you ever care if I mind?”

At mid-morning, Stone drove north on 1-95 and took the well-marked exit. Soon he was at North Palm Beach County airport, a small general aviation field a few miles from Palm Beach International. He found North County Aviation and parked his car.

Inside, he told the receptionist why he was there, and she made a quick phone call. “Don will be right with you,” she said. “You’re taking the Warrior, is that right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Then if you’d like to give me a credit card we can take care of that while Don is on his way.”

Stone gave her his American Express card and watched as a Piper Warrior taxied up to the apron of North County Aviation and a young man got out and came inside.

“Mr. Barrington?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m Don. There she is.”

Stone looked at the neat little airplane. “Looks very nice.”

“Can I see your license and medical, please?”

Stone handed the man his private pilot’s license and his third-class medical certificate. They were inspected and returned to him.

“How many hours do you have in type?” Don asked.

“A little over a hundred, but it’s been a while. I did most of my private ticket training in a Warrior, and I’m real comfortable with it.”

“Come on, then, and let’s do a little checkride.”

Stone signed his credit card chit, pocketed the card and followed Don outside.

“You do the preflight,” Don said, handing him a fuel cup.

Stone put his briefcase into the airplane and walked slowly around it, running through a mental checklist. He drained some fuel from each wing and inspected it for dirt or water, checked the oil and handed Don back the fuel cup. “Looks good to me,” he said.

“Take the left seat, then.”

Stone climbed into the airplane, followed by Don. He started the engine, listened to the recorded weather from PBI, checked the wind sock and taxied to the active runway. He pulled into the runup pad and did his final check of the airplane, then, looking for traffic, he announced his intentions over the unicorn frequency and taxied onto the runway. He pushed the throttle forward and, watching his airspeed, started down the center line. At rotation speed he pulled back on the yoke and left the ground. It was a fixed-gear airplane, so he didn’t have to bother retracting the landing gear. Announcing his intentions at every turn, he climbed crosswind.

“Just stay in the pattern,” Don said, watching his every move closely.

Stone turned downwind, reduced power and prepared to land. He turned onto the base leg, then onto final and set the airplane lightly down on the runway.