Stuart Woods - Family Jewels

Everyone murmured a greeting.

“Was that Harvey Biggers watching from upstairs?”

“I believe so. He seems to have been living up there for a couple of days.”

“Over us?” Gala asked.

“More or less. He ran when he heard me coming up the stairs.”

“What’s the umbrella for?” Vanessa asked.

“Persuasion,” Stone said, dropping it back into the umbrella stand.

“Did you persuade him of anything?”

“Just to leave, I guess.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Nicky asked.

“I’ve already done that.” As if on cue they heard tires on gravel from the front drive. “I guess they don’t use sirens in good neighborhoods.”

The doorbell rang, and Stone opened it. Two uniformed patrolmen stood in the doorway, their caps in their hands.

“Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes, I am.”

“We got a call about an intruder in the house?”

“He left by the front door. Did you see anyone afoot on Ocean Drive?”

“You mean South Ocean Boulevard?”

“I do.”

“No, sir, just cars. We understood that the person is a suspect in a murder?”

“That’s correct.”

“Name of Harvey Biggers?”

“Correct again.”

“The chief has already given the order to close the bridges. Not close them, exactly, but we’ve got a description, and officers are looking into every car driving off the island.”

“That’s the advantage of policing an island, I guess,” Stone said.

“Yes, sir. Did the man do any damage here?”

“No, but he slept here for a couple of nights, in a bedroom on the third floor, top of the stairs, second on the left.”

“May we take a look?”

“Go right ahead.”

The two policemen trotted up the stairs.

“Nicky,” Stone said, “might Harvey try to take shelter at your house?”

“Well, he knows where we live — he came there with Carrie for dinner on a few occasions. We’ll be real careful when we get home. Can you and Gala come about seven for dinner? We’ll be real casual, no neckties.”

“Thank you, yes.”

The Chalmerses left to go home.

Hazel appeared in the downstairs hall. “Mr. Barrington, did I just see two policemen going upstairs?”

“Yes, you did, Hazel. Apparently Mr. Biggers has been sleeping in a third-floor bedroom for a couple of nights.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my goodness. Nobody has been up there since the first of the week. Are we in any danger?”

“No, he fled when discovered, and the police are looking for him now. Don’t worry, he won’t be back.”

“Thank God for that,” she said. “The housemaids will be in tomorrow morning, and I’ll have them tidy up.”

“Thank you, Hazel. We’ll be dining out tonight, and we’ll be on our way to New York tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Mr. Barrington. What time would you like breakfast?”

“Seven o’clock will be fine.” She went back toward the kitchen.

Gala came and leaned against Stone. “I didn’t think this trip would be nearly so exciting.”

“Neither did I,” Stone replied.

Nicky and Vanessa Chalmers lived in a tony neighborhood, but with much smaller houses than those on South Ocean Boulevard. Stone and Gala turned up on time and were given a drink out back, beside a small swimming pool. Stone sipped his Knob Creek, and Gala had a martini.

“It’s been quite a few days, hasn’t it?” Nicky observed.

“No argument there,” Stone replied.

A uniformed maid came out to where they sat. “Excuse me, Mr. Chalmers, but you might want to turn on the TV, to CNN.”

Nicky reached for the remote and turned it on. They were watching an aerial shot, apparently from a helicopter or a drone, and the voice of Monique Sullivan could be heard. “The Fiske estate, one of the oldest on South Ocean Boulevard in Palm Beach, is one of the oldest and most elegant of the mansions lining the beachfront.” As she spoke the camera began to zoom in, until it was possible to make out two figures sitting on a bench in the Fiske garden.

“That’s us,” Stone said, amazed. He could now recognize himself and Sullivan, as she interviewed him, and the sound was perfect.

“You mean that conversation is being recorded by somebody in the air?”

“Must have been a drone,” Stone said. “I didn’t hear a chopper, and there were no cameras around us. That’s very sneaky.” He saw Sullivan point at the house, and the shot zoomed in on the upstairs window, just as a figure moved behind a curtain.

“That was Harvey,” Nicky said. “I’d recognize him anywhere.”

“It was a pretty brief glimpse, Nicky,” Stone said. “Are you sure?”

“I am.”

A moment later the camera caught a figure running from the house and began to zoom in again, losing him as he ran behind some shrubbery along the driveway. The man, who was carrying a suitcase, ran out to the boulevard, then made two lefts into side streets, got into a dark car, and made his escape. The camera didn’t follow him.

“The television arts seem to have made great technical advances when I wasn’t looking,” Stone said.

“Well, they say you can’t go anywhere without being on camera,” Nicky observed.

They finished a good dinner and were on coffee in Nicky’s study when he brought up a new subject. “Stone, have you given any thought as to what Carrie’s house is worth?”

“Not really. I’m going to have to order appraisals of the house and its contents.”

“The same with the East Hampton house and the New York apartment, I suppose.”

“I expect so. I’ve seen the East Hampton house, of course, but what is the New York apartment like?”

“A duplex at 740 Park Avenue, which is said to be the best building in the city.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Vanessa and I were talking this afternoon. We’ve never put a great deal of money into our residences, partly because we didn’t want the bother of decorating them. We didn’t have the sort of eye that Carrie had, and it occurs to us that, well...” He gathered himself. “I’d like to make you, or rather, the estate, an offer.”

“For the Palm Beach house?”

“For all three properties.”

“God, that’s a very large bite, Nicky.”

“I’m aware of that. Fortunately, I have a very large fortune. My father died a few months ago, and it got even larger. I know that you’ll have to get appraisals done, but I’d like to offer the estate a hundred million dollars for all three of Carrie’s properties.”

“That’s a breathtaking offer, Nicky, but of course I’ll have to get appraisals of not only the properties but of the contents. Carrie had a lot of fine art in the Palm Beach house and a lot of American antique furniture, as well, much of which would bring large numbers at auction.”

“I understand, and I’m prepared to adjust my offer, if necessary, when the appraisals come in. We might exclude some of the pieces, which you could auction.”

“Well, when I get back to New York, I’ll get people to work on that. As long as you understand that my duty as executor is to get market prices.”

“Having been through it with my father’s estate, I’m well aware of the hoops you have to jump through.”

“Yes, and it would simplify life for me if I could sell it all to one buyer. I’ll give you, unofficially, a first option.”

“That’s all I could ask for,” Nicky said.

Driving home, Gala spoke up. “Does Nicky really have that kind of money?”

“He does. His great-grandfather founded, at the dawn of the automobile age, what became the largest tire company in the United States, perhaps in the world, and the family, that is to say, Nicky, still owns a majority of it. He has recently become a client of my firm, so I’m familiar with the facts of the matter.”