Stuart Woods - Cold Paradise

Griggs sighed.

Stone was about to say something, when he looked over Griggs’s shoulder and saw Dolce standing in the garden, maybe two hundred feet away. Griggs was about to turn and follow his gaze, but Stone took him by the shoulder and led him toward the afterdeck banquette. “How about a drink, Dan?” he said.

Griggs pulled away from his grasp, but did not look toward Dolce. “Are you nuts? I’m on duty. I thought that was obvious.”

“How’s Lundquist?” Stone asked, desperate to keep Griggs looking in his direction instead of Dolce’s. He couldn’t allow himself to look that way, either.

“I put him on a medivac plane for Minneapolis this morning. He’s recovering, and his department sent the aircraft.”

“He’s going to be all right, then?”

“Didn’t I just say that?” Griggs asked, irritated.

“Sorry, Dan. I just wanted to be sure.”

“Something else: You still looking for that Manning fellow?”

“Not really,” Stone said. “I pretty much straightened that out in a favorable manner.”

“Favorable? Did you shoot him?”

“No, no, I just sorted out the differences between him and Liz, and I think he’s out of our hair now.”

“Maybe not,” Griggs said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve had two reports from my men of a man answering his description being in town.”

“Well, if he’s in town, I’ve got no quarrel with him, nor him with me.”

“Does he have any quarrel with Liz?”

“Not anymore. That’s all settled.”

“Then you don’t want me to pick him up?”

For a moment, Stone considered blowing the whistle on Paul Manning, and the hell with their agreement. “No. You wouldn’t have a charge, anyway. He’s clean.”

“How do you know that? I thought you said he was the criminal type.”

“As a result of our settlement, he’s now too rich to be criminal.”

“You paid him off?”

“Let’s say he walked away in very good shape.”

“Well, I’ll leave him alone, if that’s the way you want it, but I intend to keep an eye on him.”

“That can’t hurt, I suppose, if you have the manpower.”

Stone thought of something. “Tell me, Dan, did the description of the man include a bandage on his face?”

“A bandage? No, nobody said anything about that. He’s clean-shaven, with dark hair, going gray.”

“Oh.”

“Why did you think he might be wearing a bandage?”

“When I saw him he was. I thought maybe he’d had an accident or something.”

“Well, I’ve got to get going,” Griggs said, turning back toward the house.

Stone looked up to see that Dolce was nowhere in sight. “I’ll walk with you,” Stone said.

“Don’t bother, I can find my way,” Griggs replied.

“I was going to the house, anyway.”

“Suit yourself.”

They walked down the gangplank and toward the house, with Stone casing every shrub and tree they passed.

“Did I tell you it was stolen?” Griggs asked.

“What was?”

“The Cadillac, the one that was shot at.”

“Sounds like a drug deal gone wrong,” Stone said.

“Maybe, but we don’t get a whole lot of drug dealing in broad daylight around the Worth Avenue shopping district.”

“I guess not,” Stone said, still looking for Dolce.

They reached the house and walked through the central hallway and outside to where Griggs had parked his car.

Stone looked around for the silver Volvo, or for any other strange car, but saw nothing.

“You know, Stone,” Griggs said, his mood still somber, “I’ve got a strong feeling that you know something I ought to know.”

“Me? I can’t imagine what.”

“When I find the guys in the Cadillac, I hope I don’t find out that they know you.”

“Since I left the force there are no drug dealers in my life,” Stone said honestly.

“We didn’t find any drugs in the car,” Griggs said. “It was stolen from the airport, by the way.”

“I guess they couldn’t get a cab.”

“I hear Thad Shames is getting married on Sunday,” Griggs said. “You want me to send a few people down here to help with the traffic?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Stone said. “Thad has hired some security for the wedding and the reception, but I don’t think he’s done anything about traffic.”

“I’ll send a couple of men,” Griggs said. He was about to get into the car, but he stopped. “Why does Mr. Shames need private security?” he asked.

“Gate-crashers, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Griggs got into his car. “I’ll see you around, Stone.”

“Thanks for stopping by, Dan.”

Griggs drove away, and Stone began to walk slowly through the gardens, expecting at any moment for Dolce to pop up. He passed through the hedge and had a look around the swimming pool, then walked back to the yacht.

Dino was having a drink on the afterdeck.

“Has Griggs put two and two together?” Dino asked.

“Just one and one. Apparently, a cop saw us leaving the area, and he thought we might be involved. He doesn’t really know anything.”

“I wish I didn’t know anything,” Dino said. “I’d really be happier that way.”

“I’ll devote my life to keeping you ignorant,” Stone replied.

“I wish you would. It’s tiring, knowing too much.”

“Tell me about it.”

“When are we getting out of here?”

“After the wedding, I guess. How about bright and early Monday morning?”

“Sounds good to me. It’s too cold down here.”

“I know what you mean,” Stone said truthfully.

Stone and Dino were having dinner alone together on the yacht. The crew had been given the night off, and Callie, after preparing dinner for them, had gone to work in her new office in the main house. Stone had seen little of her since Thad and Liz had decided to get married on short notice; there didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day for her to get her work done.

“Gee, it’s kind of nice here, just you and me,” Dino said. “We never get to have dinner alone anymore.”

“Oh, shut up,” Stone said. “You’re worse than a wife.”

“That’s something only a bachelor could say,” Dino replied.

“You know, Dino, I’ve been thinking about marriage.”

“Oh, no,” Dino groaned. “Not again.”

“What kind of crack is that?”

“Stone, every time you start thinking about marriage, you get into terrible trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Stone snorted.

“Stone, when you were thinking about marrying Arrington, look what happened: She married somebody else, and you got involved with this flake Allison-excuse me, Liz. And look at all the trouble that came out of that.”

“Well, that time, yes.”

“Then there was the English girl-what was her name?”

“Sarah.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“That didn’t go so good, either, right?”

“Not so good.”

“And then you actually married Dolce-well, sort of, and against all the advice I could muster. And now she’s out there stalking you with a gun, and frankly, I wouldn’t give you good odds on making it back to New York without taking along some excess baggage in the form of lead in your liver. Now, I ask you, what happens when you start thinking about marriage?”

“All right, I get into trouble,” Stone said gloomily.

“Stone, you’re my friend, and I love you, and that’s why I can say this to you: You’re not cut out to be married. Never in my life have I known anybody who was less cut out to be married. Marriage is very, very hard, and believe me, you’re not tough enough to handle it”

“Callie is an awfully nice girl,” Stone said mistily.