Family Jewels (9 page)

20

T
he following day Stone borrowed a Range Rover from Ed and drove into Tesuque. He found the house easily, just along from the village post office, and the gate was open so he drove in and parked in front of the house.

Gala met him at the door. “Come in,” she said, leading him through a large living room with a fireplace at each end, then outside to where some comfortable furniture was arranged before a fireplace under a portico. “Bloody Marys are a specialty of the house,” she said. “May we get you one?”

“Certainly. This will be my third Bloody Mary in a week,” Stone said.

Gala gave the order to a motherly-looking Hispanic woman, who returned shortly with two tall glasses. “This is Maria, who has taken care of me for as long as I can remember.”

“How do you do, Maria?”

“Very well, thank you.” She returned to the kitchen.

“You know,” Stone said, “I’ve known Susannah for quite a while now, but she has certainly kept your existence a secret.”

“We didn’t see each other for several years. My ex-husband managed to alienate Susannah and Ed early in our marriage, something he was very good at, and he was persona non grata at their house. Out of misplaced loyalty, I stayed away, too.”

“It’s difficult for me to imagine someone who couldn’t get along with Susannah and Ed—they’re such pleasant people.”

“Boris could evoke hostility in even the nicest people,” Gala said.

“What was your married name?”

“Tirov—he was Russian. He made a name for himself there as an actor, and later a director, then came to this country in his early thirties.”

“Did he do a series of some sort of superhero pictures?”

“Yes, he did, and in so doing simultaneously made a large fortune and gained a reputation as a hack, and an unpleasant one at that.”

“How long were you married?”

“Nearly eight years. I suppose I was a glutton for punishment. He was subject to violent rages and brutish behavior, but only when we were alone. Among others he mustered some charm.”

“I don’t want you to relive all that on my account.”

“Thank you, I’m doing a pretty good job of forgetting it.”

“Then we won’t need to talk of it again.”

“What about you? Have you ever been married?”

“Yes, but more briefly than I would have liked. We’d been married for less than a year when she was murdered by a former lover.”

“That’s awful!”

“Yes, it was.”

“I don’t suppose there were children.”

“One, a boy, conceived twenty-odd years ago. He’s a film director in L.A.”

“Oh, wait—Peter Barrington?”

“That’s my boy.”

“I love his work. I’d love to write something for him.”

“He’s pretty much an auteur,” Stone said. “He and his partner, Ben Bacchetti, produce together.”

“Ah, yes, the new CEO at Centurion Pictures.”

“Ben’s father is my closest friend. We were police detectives together in our youth. Dino is now the police commissioner of New York City.”

“You seem very unlike a policeman.”

“That’s what the policemen I worked with thought. Dino was the only one I really got along with. First chance they got, they got rid of me, using an injury as an excuse. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Then you went to law school?”

“I did that first, before the police academy. Afterward an old law school classmate urged me to take the bar exam, then join his firm. That worked out rather well.”

“I seem to remember that your son is the stepson of the actor Vance Calder.”

“That’s correct. His mother left me for him before she knew she was pregnant.”

“Did Calder know?”

“A good question. I think he may have suspected, but who knows? Neither he nor my former wife is around to answer that question.”

“But Peter took your name?”

“That was his decision. I was very pleased when he told me.”

“Do you see a lot of him?”

“Not enough. We spent some quality time together at my home in England this spring, while he was working on a film there. Both he and Ben married their girlfriends there, too, and it was nice to be around for that.”

They had just finished lunch when a distant telephone rang, and Maria appeared, a cordless instrument in her hand. “The phone is for Mr. Barrington,” she said.

“That’s odd. How would anybody know to reach me here?”

“Only one way to find out,” Gala said.

Stone took the phone from her. “Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Nicky Chalmers.”

“Hello, Nicky.”

“Vanessa and I are in town, having lunch with some friends, and I saw Carrie Fiske’s ex-husband, Harvey Biggers, across the plaza, browsing the jewelry from the Indians who sell under the portico at the old governor’s mansion. I mention this
because Carrie said he’s been stalking her, and you’ve been helping her deal with that.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“No, it was just a fleeting glimpse.”

“Nicky, if he turns up again you should avoid him. I’ll explain why later.”

“Avoiding Harvey will be a pleasure.” Nicky hung up.

21

S
tone stayed at Gala’s house until almost three o’clock; then he got back into his borrowed Range Rover and, instead of returning to the Eagles’ residence, turned toward Santa Fe and drove into the town.

He found a parking place half a block from the plaza, then he took a very slow walk around, checking every shop and every bench in the little park. He walked over to the old governor’s mansion, one of the oldest buildings in the United States, parts of it dating back to the sixteenth century. A group of Native American jewelry makers were camped on the sidewalk, under the portico, selling their jewelry. Stone strolled along the sidewalk, looking less at the jewelry and more at the people. Harvey Biggers was not among them.

After an hour of searching the area, Stone got back into the Range Rover and drove back to Tesuque, through the village
and up to the Eagle residence. There were caterers’ trucks and a flower van parked out front, and inside, the living room was being decorated for Susannah’s birthday party, and a man was tuning the grand piano.

Stone wandered into Ed’s study and found Nicky Chalmers reading a book about Winchester rifles. Nicky looked up at him. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your lunch with my phone call,” he said, “but I thought you’d want to know about Harvey.”

Stone sat down on the sofa beside Nicky. “Do you have any idea why he’s here?”

“None whatever,” Nicky replied, “unless he’s still stalking Carrie.”

“Since I last saw you, Harvey has been connected to the corpse next door to Carrie Fiske’s house in East Hampton. Not only that, he was found in similar circumstances in West Palm Beach two years ago.”

“That’s a very disturbing coincidence,” Nicky said.

“It is indeed. And a couple of days ago, Harvey turned up on my doorstep with a gun.”

“Jesus! I’ve known Harvey since Yale, and I wouldn’t have suspected him of something like that. I guess he’s just crazy over the divorce.”

“That’s my feeling. I managed to get into the house and shut the door before he could think about using it.”

“Do you think that was his intention?”

“I wish I knew the answer to that question. Let me ask you another, one that I suspect you’re not supposed to tell me the answer to.”

“And what would that be?”

“Where is Carrie?”

“Ah,” Nicky said, “you’re quite right, I took an oath not to tell you.”

“Let me take a guess,” Stone said. “Maybe you’ll tell me if I’m wrong. Is Carrie in Santa Fe?”

“No,” Nicky said without hesitation.

“Near Santa Fe?”

“Now I’m getting uncomfortable.”

“How near?”

“An hour or two, perhaps. I’m not sure.”

“Do you know how Carrie and I became acquainted?”

“She told me she went to see you about her will.”

Stone sighed.

“Is that, strictly speaking, not true?” Nicky asked.

“Strictly speaking, no. The conversation eventually turned to that, and her will was, ostensibly, the reason I was in East Hampton when we met. Unfortunately, I’m sworn not to tell you the first reason we met.”

“Ah, attorney-client confidentiality?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps I could have a guess?”

“If you like.”

“Was Carrie concerned about her safety? Specifically, with regard to Harvey?”

Stone nodded. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

Nicky smiled.

“You said, I believe, you knew Harvey at Yale?”

“Yes. We were on the rowing team together, and we were quite a good one. Harvey was an oar. I, given my smaller stature, was coxswain.”

“May I ask, given your long acquaintance, what is your opinion of Harvey?”

“You may ask, but being of long acquaintance doesn’t mean we saw a lot of each other after Yale. Not even at Yale, truth be told, except when afloat. Harvey was then, and at times since, ah . . . mercurial, shall we say.”

“Mercurial to the point of being unstable?”

“I’m not sure I’m qualified, by training or constant exposure, to answer that in the affirmative. I can tell you, though, that at Yale, Harvey was quick to anger and quick to use his fists when angry. I’ve heard reports from others to suggest that that has not changed in the succeeding years.”

“Do you know if he ever hurt anybody?”

“At Yale, he didn’t lose any fights. Harvey was, then as now, tall and muscular. He may have run to fat a bit over the years, but who among us hasn’t?”

Stone ignored that. “Nicky,” Stone said, “do you suppose that tomorrow you and I might get into a car, take a drive, and accidentally bump into Carrie Fiske?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Nicky said, removing a cell phone from his pocket. “Why don’t I just call her?”

Stone stood up. “I’ll take a short walk,” he said. “Tell her that Harvey is in Santa Fe, that I’m concerned for her safety, and that she can’t have Bob back.”

22

N
icky handed Stone the phone. “It’s not a very good connection, I’m afraid.”

Stone took the phone. “Hello?” He got a garbled voice. “Can you hear me, Carrie?” More garbling. “It’s Stone. If you can hear me, call me on my cell when your signal improves.” He hung up and gave the phone back to Nicky. “Where the hell is she, Nicky?”

“In Abiquiu.” He spelled it. “It’s up north from here, the landscape where Georgia O’Keeffe lived and painted. Carrie wanted to photograph the area.”

“Does cell reception get any better than that?”

“I don’t know, it’s the first time I’ve tried.”

“Will you go up there with me tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, if you like.”

“Right after breakfast.”

“Okay.”

Juan came into the room and inquired as to whether he could get them anything.

“A glass of iced tea, please,” Nicky replied.

“Make that two,” Stone said.

When the tea came it was delicious, and Stone was thirsty.

“May I ask, what sort of relationship do you and Carrie have?”

“Nonprofessionally, quite cordial,” Stone replied. “Professionally—well, she doesn’t listen.”

“Do you really think Harvey is a threat to her?”

“Nicky, do you really think Harvey is entirely sane?”

“Entirely? Who among us is entirely sane?”

“I am,” Stone said. “You are.”

“You’ll have to speak for yourself.”

“Why is it I can’t get anybody to take a position on Harvey’s sanity or character? Not Carrie, not you.”

“I’ve told you, Stone, I don’t feel competent to make that judgment.”

“And Carrie seems to keep changing her mind.”

“A woman’s prerogative.”

“And an exasperating one, too.”

“I think Carrie, in general, seems to want to think the best of everyone, perhaps even Harvey, though of course, she did divorce him, so she must have had
some
doubts about the guy.”

“In my experience as an attorney, amicable divorces are rare-to-nonexistent. All too often people seem to want to
reduce their exes, not just in wealth but in general well-being. It makes them happier if they can make their exes unhappier.”

“I think that’s a cynical take on the human race,” Nicky said.

“A couple of property division conferences can make a cynic of you.”

“I suppose I’m fortunate in my marriage. Vanessa and I have hardly ever had a cross word. That’s unusual, I suppose.”

“Unusual? It’s miraculous.”

“I seem to remember that Susannah and her ex had some issues.”

“Issues? She shot him in the head.”

“In self-defense, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Do you think she enjoyed doing it?”

“I don’t know,” Stone said, “but I was around at the time, and she didn’t seem to have any regrets.”

—

T
he party was celebratory, just short of raucous. A jazz trio played in the living room, and outside, at the far end of the deck, a mariachi band of plump men with stringed instruments and sombreros held its cultural own. Ed made a charming little speech about how he had met Susannah; then more meat than Stone had ever seen at one time was served from an outdoor grill that had been trucked in from somewhere or other.

Stone and Gala found a reasonably quiet corner and attacked their steaks, washed down with a spectacular cabernet that somebody kept filling their glasses with.

Ed came over to check on them. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“I’ve already gained two pounds,” Stone replied.

“That’s the way it should go,” Ed said, laughing. “Susannah is enjoying herself.” He nodded toward his wife, who was laughing very hard at somebody’s joke. “She loves a party, not least when it’s in her honor.” He wandered on to speak to his other guests.

“Susannah got lucky with that guy,” Gala said.

“Nice to know there are some happy marriages,” Stone said. “I was having a chat with Nicky Chalmers this afternoon on that same subject, and he puts Vanessa and himself among that group. On the other hand, I have to drive to a place called Abiquiu tomorrow morning, to make sure that a client’s ex-husband isn’t doing her in.”

“I love it up there,” Gala said. “Want some company?”

“I love good company. We’ll have Nicky along, too, for a guide.”

“You won’t need him with me along,” she said. “I know the territory.”

“Then I’ll get the address and we’ll ditch him,” Stone said.