Two Dollar Bill by Stuart Woods

Author:Stuart Woods
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2005-04-12T05:00:00+00:00

31

THEY LUCKED INTO a table in the busy Grill Room of the Four Seasons, probably because Arrington was Vance Calder’s widow. When a bottle of Chardonnay had been brought and their lunch had been ordered, Stone began to explain.

“First of all, the U.S. Attorney is female; second, she has denied that the video is of her; third, I am not the person in bed with whoever the woman is.”

Arrington nodded. “All right, whatever you say.”

“Do I detect a note of disbelief in your voice?”

“Yes, you do. This is just the sort of trouble you’re always getting yourself into, Stone, and I know very well that there is one of your mother’s pictures on your bedroom wall.”

“I have done nothing whatever to get myself into trouble; it’s been done for me. And there are thousands of reproductions of my mother’s paintings on bedroom walls all over this city. They seem to have replaced Utrillo prints as the thing to exhibit one’s good taste in art.”

“Whatever you say.”

“While we’re speaking of my troubles, I’d like to take this opportunity, not having previously had one, to explain what happened when we were having dinner in London.”

“Are you referring to the occasion when you walked out of the Connaught Hotel’s restaurant and vanished into the night without a word?”

“I was arrested, sort of.”

“How do you get arrested, ‘sort of’?”

“The London police turned up at the Connaught and demanded to see me. They took me up to my suite and grilled me for more than an hour and would not allow me to leave or make phone calls. When I finally came back downstairs, you, quite understandably, were gone. All my efforts to contact you and apologize were fruitless.”

“Well, that’s a very entertaining story, even if I didn’t find it entertaining at the time. What were they grilling you about?”

“I can’t tell you; it’s a client confidentiality thing.”

“How convenient.”

“Oh, all right, I’ll tell you. The London police found a car with two dead Israeli Mossad agents in the trunk; one of them was wearing my raincoat.”

Arrington burst out laughing. “Stone, you should be writing novels, really you should. You’re able to come up with the most preposterous stories at the drop of a hat.”

“Arrington, have I ever lied to you?” This was a dangerous question, he knew.

“Of course you have.”

“On what occasion?” he demanded, trying to sound wounded.

“All right, all right, Stone,” she said, patting his hand, “I believe your story, even if it is preposterous, but may I ask a question? Just to see how quick you are?”

“What?”

“How did the dead Israeli agent end up wearing your raincoat?”

“He owned a nearly identical raincoat, and apparently, we had inadvertently exchanged them at a pub or a restaurant. Fortunately, I was able to show the police his raincoat, which was hanging in my closet.”

“You are a wonder, really you are.” She took his hand. “I’ve missed you.”

The melting inside him started again. “I’ve missed you, too,” he said, without missing a beat, and meaning it, even if she didn’t.

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