Стюарт Вудс - Shakeup

“What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty.”

“Two eggs over easy, bacon, English muffin, OJ, coffee,” she replied.

Stone called it in on the bathroom phone, then dried his own hair.

She reached over and undid the towel around his waist. “You look good naked,” she said.

He did the same for her. “You, too.”

“Quickie?”

“I don’t think we’ll be quick enough, with breakfast on the way. Rain check?”

“Sure, even if it’s not raining.”

They were propped up in bed in time for the arrival of breakfast. While they were eating, Stone’s phone rang. “Hello?”

“Dad, it’s Peter. Lunch at the studio today?”

“You buying?”

Peter laughed. “You betcha.”

“Then we’re on.”

“Noon, at my bungalow,” he said.

“See you then.”

Stone turned to Lara. “What time is your appointment at Centurion?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“I’ll give you a lift, then. I’m having lunch with Peter after you’re done.”

“Thanks, but they’re sending a car for me at ten.”

They finished breakfast, and the butler took away the debris. “Where were we?” he asked.

“What time is it?”

“Eight-ten.”

She climbed on top of him. “I like being on top,” she said.

“I like you being on top,” he replied, rising to the occasion.

She did the rest.

Stone arrived at Peter’s bungalow at Centurion Studios at noon.

“Good morning, Mr. Barrington,” the receptionist said. “He’s in a meeting, be done shortly. Why don’t you have a seat in the garden?”

Stone strolled out back and took a chaise longue next to a fountain. The garden was soft and lovely, something new at the bungalow. He was about to doze off when voices woke him. He looked up to see Peter and his production partner, Ben Bacchetti, Dino’s son, walking into the garden with a young man and a young woman.

Stone and Peter hugged, then Stone and Ben.

“Dad,” Peter said, “this is Jeff Tatum and Lara Parks, the stars of our new film.”

Stone shook Jeff’s hand, then Lara’s. “Congratulations to both of you,” he said.

“Your father and I have met,” Lara said to Peter. “We’re neighbors at the Arrington.”

“Good. Dad, we’ve just invited these folks to dinner at our house,” Peter said. “Why don’t you join us?”

“What a good idea,” Stone said.

“Unfortunately, they both have plans for lunch, so say goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Stone said, winking at Lara.

She winked back, and they left.

“Don’t tell me,” Peter said.

“Tell you what?”

“Never mind.”

“Bad news,” Peter said. “Leo Goldman is on his deathbed.” Goldman was the chairman and CEO of Centurion.

“I’m sorry to hear it. Leo’s a good man.”

“Yes,” Peter said, “he is. We’re planning to visit him in the hospice after lunch. Would you like to come with us?”

“Yes, I’ve always liked Leo, and I liked his father before him.”

“I, as well. But Ben is going to make a better CEO. Can we get him elected?”

“Well, if we put together my shares, your trust’s shares, Ben’s shares, and Strategic Service’s shares, we’ll have a narrow majority, I think. Congratulations, Ben.”

Ben threw up his hands. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said. “Bad luck.”

“You make your own luck,” Stone said. “Both of you always have.”

Stone’s phone went off and he looked at it for the caller: Dino. “It’s your old man,” he said to Ben. “Excuse me for a moment. Hello, Dino.”

“Yeah. You, too.”

“I’m with your son and mine.”

“Great, do you...”

“Did you hear that Leo Goldman is in the twilight of his life?”

“Yeah? Does that mean...”

“It does. You won’t have to support Ben anymore.”

That got a big laugh from Ben, whose income was a dozen times that of his father’s.

“Shut up and listen,” Dino said.

“I’m listening.”

“Art Jacoby, the detective from D.C....”

“I remember.”

“I told you to shut up and listen.”

Stone said nothing.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“I’m following instructions,” Stone said.

“Okay, anyway, some guys from DCPD showed up here ten minutes ago with a warrant for his arrest.”

“On what charge?”

“I told you to shut up.”

Stone shut up.

“Are you there?”

Stone said nothing.

“He’s charged, along with his girlfriend, with the murder of Patricia Clark.”

“May I speak now?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Wow.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Is this the girlfriend who was part of the threesome?”

“Yeah.”

“I have nothing else to say.” Dino hung up.

They finished a good lunch, then Peter’s secretary came outside. “Leo Goldman’s assistant called. Leo died a few minutes ago.”

There was an audible groan from everybody.

“Send some nice flowers to his house,” Peter said. “I don’t suppose we know anything about the funeral arrangements yet.”

“We know that Leo planned every detail of the funeral. The memorial service will be held in the executive auditorium, at three PM tomorrow, burial afterward at the little graveyard on the back lot, where studio VIPs rest, next to his father.”

“Fine,” Peter said.

Ben spoke up. “Make a note that when I kick off, I’m not to be buried there. I spent enough time in the boardroom with those guys.”

“Me, too,” Peter said. “Dad, where do you want to be buried?”

“I really haven’t given it any thought, but I’d like to be scattered, not buried, from the afterdeck of Breeze, within sight of my house in Dark Harbor, and anybody who won’t make the trip to Maine is no friend of mine. You can have a memorial service in New York, to give them an excuse for not coming.”

“You haven’t given it any thought at all, then?” Peter said.

“Not much.”

On the way home, Stone’s phone rang. “Yes?”

“It’s Lara. Now that I’ve got the job they’re kicking me out of the Arrington first thing tomorrow morning. I’m not looking forward to going back to my little apartment in Santa Monica.”

“So, why don’t you move in with me?” Stone suggested. “I’ll be here a little longer.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Yes, please.”

“Don’t wait for tomorrow. Pack, and I’ll send the butler over there for your luggage as soon as I get home.”

“I’ll need all of fifteen minutes,” she replied. “Bye.”

As she hung up, Stone’s phone rang again. “Yes?”

“It’s Dino. Shut up and listen.”

Stone sighed.

“Okay, Art Jacoby can’t get a decent lawyer.”

“Indigent?”

“No, shunned. Word has apparently gotten out through Little Debby. Any ideas?”

“Yeah. Where are they holding Art?”

“DCPD detention.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Stone hung up and called Herbie Fisher, a young partner at Woodman & Weld.

“Herb Fisher.”

“It’s Stone. You had a case that required you to qualify for practicing in D.C., didn’t you?”

“Yep,” Herbie said. “I’m still good to practice there. What happened, Holly get arrested?”

“No, she’s still a free woman, but she might as well be a prisoner, since she’s being held in Secret Service detention. There’s a guy named Art Jacoby, who...”

“I know him. He worked the case I was trying down there.”

“He’s been arrested for the murder of Patricia Clark.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I’ve gotten to know him, and I think it’s bullshit. You know Little Debby Myers?”