Standup Guy by Stuart Woods

Author:Stuart Woods [Woods, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780399164156
Amazon: 0399164154
Barnesnoble: 0399164154
Goodreads: 18079644
Publisher: Putnam Adult
Published: 2014-01-07T06:00:00+00:00

31

The following morning at seven-thirty, Stone walked out his front door and had a look up and down the block. An unmarked car waited at the curb, idling, two men in the front seat. He saw no threat, so he went and got Hank, kissed her, and put her into the backseat. “I’ll be back in a few days, maybe a week, and I’ll call you then,” he said. The car drove away.

Joan backed Stone’s Bentley out of the garage, and he put his luggage in the trunk. She drove him to JFK while he leafed through the Times. There was a report on the Red Hook raid of Buono’s chop shop, and Stone savored every detail. He made the morning flight to London and managed to get in a nap to replace some of the sleep he had lost by rising so early. His flight picked up a brisk tailwind across the Atlantic, and he was at Heathrow by eight-thirty PM, London time.

As he left customs with his luggage cart, he saw a chauffeur holding a card with his name on it. Shortly, he was in the backseat of a large Mercedes, on his way into the city.

He arrived at Emma Tweed’s house in Holland Park, an elegant neighborhood with large houses, and the chauffeur carried in his luggage, while Emma kissed him, took his coat, and walked him into the kitchen, where she served him a light supper of cold meats and a salad. He stayed up as late as he could, so that he would get a good night’s sleep and temper the jet lag, then they went to bed.

“You’re too tired to take me on tonight,” Emma said. “Sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Take this,” she said, handing him a small pill.

He took it and was asleep in minutes.

• • •

He awoke in a bedroom darkened by drawn curtains, with no idea what time it was. He got out of bed and drew the curtains and was nearly knocked down by the brilliant sunshine streaming in. When his eyesight recovered, he found a clock that told him it was after ten AM.

He showered and shaved and then felt not so fuzzy around the edges. He was getting dressed when his cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Stone, it’s Evelyn Throckmorton.”

“Good morning, Evelyn.”

“I hope you had a good flight and a good night’s sleep.”

“I had both, thanks.” It was unlike the crusty ex-cop to be so solicitous.

“May I take you to lunch today, if you’ve no plans?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know the Grenadier, in Wilton Row, Belgravia?”

“I do. It’s my favorite pub.”

“May we meet there at one PM?”

“Perfect.”

“See you then.” Throckmorton hung up.

Stone made himself some toast and coffee and read the London papers, which Emma had left on the kitchen table. She rang him later in the morning.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, I’ve been up for an hour or so.”

“Can you entertain yourself for the rest of the day?”

“Sure. In fact, Throckmorton has invited me to lunch.”

“Good. I should be home around six.

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