Stuart Woods - Family Jewels

Stone left them alone in his study for half an hour, then returned.

“All right,” Nicky said. “We will buy the residences for a hundred and sixteen million, and I’ve checked the pieces of furniture and art we’d like to purchase, as well.” He handed Stone a sheet of paper. “We make the total eleven million dollars for the furniture and art, a hundred and twenty-seven million total.”

“Excellent,” Stone said.

“Shall I write you a check?”

Stone laughed. “I’ll draw up a contract, you can have your attorney go over it, and when you’re ready, we’ll close the deal.”

“Stone,” Nicky said, “you are our attorney.”

“I’m afraid I can’t represent both sides in the sale. I can recommend an attorney, if you like, or you can choose someone to read the contract for you.”

“I’ll call you with a name,” Nicky said.

Stone stood up to see them out. “I can have the contract for you in a few days, then take whatever time you need to have an attorney review it, and we’ll make a date for the closing. By the way, I heard from Harvey again. He’s trying to claim a piece of jewelry that wasn’t on the list you saw — says he gave it to Carrie as a wedding gift.”

“That would make it hers, not his, wouldn’t it?”

“Exactly what I told him. Nicky, will you tell me again about seeing Harvey in Santa Fe?”

“Well, we ran into some acquaintances — Derek and Alicia Bedford, you met them in East Hampton.”

“I remember them.”

“Well, we bumped into them in the plaza and adjourned to the Inn of the Anasazi for lunch. That’s right off the plaza, across the street from the old governor’s mansion. As we left the hotel, we walked across the plaza to their car, and on the way we saw Harvey looking at the Indian jewelry under the portico of the mansion.”

“Did the Bedfords know Harvey?”

“They had met him once or twice, I think.”

“Would they testify to seeing him there?”

“I expect so.”

“After Harvey is caught, the DA might want to interview them.”

“If I run into them again, I’ll tell them. Why don’t I write down their number for you?”

Stone gave him paper and pen, and he wrote down the information.

“Thank you, Nicky.” They left, and Stone called Jamie Niven. “How are the plans for the sale going, Jamie?”

“I’ve got a date for you, Stone — six weeks from today, if that’s convenient for you.”

“It is,” Stone replied, marking it on his calendar. “Now, I have some fine pieces of furniture and art for your people to look at, mostly in New York, but a dozen pieces in Palm Beach, as well as a hundred or so pieces of jewelry.”

“I think we should bring the Palm Beach pieces here, and have one big sale with everything in it, and the necklace at the very end. We’ll get a huge attendance. The publicity campaign is starting immediately.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll send some people to Palm Beach tomorrow, and let’s make a date for my team to see what’s in New York.”

“Any day this week.”

“Tomorrow at nine AM?”

“Let’s make it ten AM.”

“We’ll see you there.”

Half an hour later Joan came into his office. “That Biggers guy is on the phone again.”

“Call Dino and get a trace started.” Stone picked up the phone. “All right, what is it this time?”

“I understand that you’re going to sell my necklace at auction,” Biggers said.

“You’re very well informed, except about the ownership of the necklace.”

“That sale will never happen,” Biggers said.

“It will, and you can’t do anything to stop it.”

“Mark my words, Mr. Barrington, your sale will blow up in your face.” He hung up.

Stone buzzed Joan. “Never mind the trace, just get me Dino.”

“Bacchetti.”

“Biggers is still calling me. I couldn’t keep him on long enough for a trace. The guy is very savvy about that.”

“Leave it to me,” Dino said.

Stone met Jamie Niven and his people at Carrie Fiske’s apartment the following morning. The Sotheby’s people were very impressed.

“I’d like to sell the entire contents,” Jamie said.

“I’m afraid I sold all three of her houses yesterday, and most of the art and furnishings.” He gave Niven a listing of the others. “Here’s a list of the unsold pieces, with photographs. You can add them to your auction.”

“Right. I’ve got people at the Palm Beach house right now,” Jamie said, “and we’ll get to the East Hampton property tomorrow.”

They went into Carrie’s dressing room, and Stone opened the safe for Niven and his jewelry appraiser.

“This is quite a collection,” Jamie said.

“It’s three generations’ worth,” Stone pointed out. “Why don’t you have a look through the clothes, as well — you might want to include some of the things in the auction with the jewelry.”

“We’ll do that. My people are going to be here most of the day,” Jamie said.

“And here’s something nice.” He gave him the box for the necklace.

“We’ll touch it up a bit and display the necklace in it.”

Stone gave him keys to the properties. “The Hockneys and a Modigliani went to the buyer,” he said. “Lock up here when you’re finished.”

“I’ll bring you the key and a receipt for whatever we take with us.”

“Good enough.”

Stone went back to his office and entered through the street door.

“Another unannounced Cabot,” Joan said.

Stone went into his office and found Lance Cabot stretched out on his sofa, sipping coffee and reading the Times .

“Good morning, Stone,” Lance drawled. Lance seemed always to drawl. He had succeeded Kate Lee as director of Central Intelligence.

“Mind if I sit down?” Stone asked.

“Oh, shut up.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Lance?”

“You’re interfering with one of my people, and I thought we should have a chat about it.”

“I haven’t spoken to any of your people recently,” Stone said. He was under contract to the CIA as a consultant, though he still wasn’t sure what that meant.

“I’m referring to Harvey Biggers,” Lance said.

Stone sank into his chair. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’m not surprised that you’re surprised,” Lance said. “You weren’t meant to know — even his wife didn’t know.”

“Do you understand that the police are looking for him? That he’s a suspect in the murder of his ex-wife?”

“That’s a load of horseshit, Stone, and the police are not looking for him. I had a word with Dino and with that bumpkin from East Hampton. If you knew Harvey, you’d know that he would never have killed her.”

“I know no such thing.”

“Please cite for me the evidence of his guilt.”

“He was seen in Santa Fe the day before she was murdered, fifty miles away.”

“So what?”

“He threatened Carrie.”

“That’s her story. Lots of women feel threatened by their ex-husbands.”

“Then he came here and told me that she was trying to kill him , not the other way around.”

“Oh, that story was just a little tradecraft. Harvey probably thought it would throw you off his scent. He’s always had more imagination than was good for him.”

“I thought Harvey was something in finance, not a CIA officer.”

“He used that as a cover — so did Holly Barker, when she had to reveal all to a co-op board to buy her apartment. We established the firm twenty-odd years ago, and it’s entirely fake. Harvey is a career officer. We recruited him right out of Yale. He was Holly’s operational deputy in the New York station, before she went to the National Security Council.”