37

As Stone was leaving Clarke’s his cell phone vibrated, and he flipped it open. “Yes?”

“It’s Eggers. Where are you?”

“Just leaving P. J. Clarke’s.”

“Come see me.” Eggers hung up.

Stone walked over to the Seagram Building and took the elevator upstairs. The receptionist was on the phone, apparently with a girlfriend. She thumbed him toward the corner office.

Stone walked through Bill Eggers’s open door and tossed his coat on a chair. “What?” he demanded.

“You’re in a shitty mood,” Eggers said.

“Somebody is fucking with me, probably Harlan Deal.”

Eggers looked over Stone’s shoulder. “Hello, Harlan,” he said. “Come in.”

Harlan Deal walked around Stone and sat down. Eggers waved Stone to a chair.

“Now,” Eggers said, “what’s going on with you two?”

“He stole my girl,” Deal said.

“He had my house, ah, houses broken into.”

“You stole his girl?”

“Certainly not. If he lost her, that was her decision, not mine.”

Eggers turned to Deal. “You had his houses broken into?”

“I’ve nothing to say on that subject,” Deal said.

Stone opened his mouth, but Eggers held up a hand. “Stone, did you have anything to do with Harlan’s girl leaving him?”

“I did not,” Stone said. “I saw her when I was in Connecticut, though.”

“Aha!” Deal shouted, pointing a finger at Stone.

“She was at the home of a friend of mine, Barton Cabot.”

“The antiques dealer?” Eggers asked.

“You know him?”

“My wife and I have bought a few pieces from him over the years. We’re collectors of American furniture.”

Deal spoke up. “Are you saying that Carla left me for an antiques dealer?”

“Not that kind of antiques dealer.”

“What kind, then?”

“One who likes women more than antiques.”

“I don’t believe it,” Deal said.

“Well, she was there when I arrived at Colonel Cabot’s house yesterday afternoon, and she was there when I left. My impression was that she was staying over.”

“Colonel Cabot?” Eggers asked.

“He was a career officer in the Marines before he was an antiques dealer.”

Deal looked at Stone as if he were insane. “A former Marine is an antiques dealer? That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“I don’t care if it makes any sense,” Stone said. “It’s true.”

“Then you didn’t steal my girl?”

Stone reminded himself that it had been Carla’s idea to sleep with him. “I did not.”

Eggers spoke up. “Harlan, it appears that you’ve been misinformed.”

Deal blinked, literally and figuratively. “Then I must apologize to Mr. Barrington.”

Stone waited for him to do so. “All right, apologize.”

“I apologize.”

“For having my homes broken into?”

“I know nothing about that.”

Eggers looked at him sharply. “Harlan?”

Deal threw up his hands. “My people just had a look around.”

“They rearranged my bedroom and dressing room,” Stone said.

“That was not part of my instructions,” Deal said. “My man has . . . a whimsical nature.”

“Well, you tell him that if I catch him being whimsical in any residence of mine again I will make a point of curing his whimsy.”

“Now, Stone,” Eggers said. “Clearly, there’s been a misunderstanding all around, and Harlan has apologized. Will the two of you now shake hands and forget this?”

Stone and Deal stared at each other. Finally, Stone extended a hand, and Deal shook it.

“I have to get back to my office,” Deal said, rising. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.” He walked out.

Eggers got up and closed the door behind Deal, then looked at Stone. “You fucked his girlfriend?”

“Bill, didn’t you hear anything I just said?”

“Stone, I know you.”

“Tell you what, pick up the phone and dial this number.” Stone read from the jotter in his jacket pocket.

Eggers dialed.

“Ask to speak to Carla.”

“What’s her last name?”

“She doesn’t have one.”

“Oh, come on, Stone.”

“She’s Eduardo Bianchi’s granddaughter, and she doesn’t like using his name.”

Eggers put down the phone in haste. “You fucked a woman who is both Harlan Deal’s fiancée and Eduardo Bianchi’s granddaughter? I don’t know why you’re not somewhere in a shallow grave.”

“She isn’t Deal’s fiancée anymore, and she wasn’t when I fucked her, and Eduardo and I get along just fine, thank you.”

“Does Eduardo know you’re fucking his granddaughter?”

“I am not fucking his granddaughter . . . anymore. Barton Cabot may be, but I’m not.”

“How the hell do you know Barton Cabot, anyway?”

“We both have houses in the same town; why shouldn’t I know him?”

“It’s just bizarre,” Eggers said.

“What’s bizarre about it?”

“Well, I’ll bet he’s the only former Marine colonel you know and the only antiques dealer, too. Am I wrong?”

“Well . . . no.”

“Then it’s bizarre.”

“If you say so.”

“Listen,” Eggers said, “as long as you know Cabot, maybe you could run down a rumor for me.”

“What sort of rumor?”

“Word around town is Cabot has got hold of a very fine eighteenth-century mahogany secretary.”

“Where the hell did you hear that?”

“If the rumor is true, I’d be interested.”

“Bill, please tell me where you heard that rumor.”

“Stone, the number of people in New York who would be interested in a piece of that caliber is very small. We talk to each other.”

“Tell me the name of the person who told you this.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Is there anything else, Bill?”

“No.”

“Then I bid you good day.” Stone got up and headed for the door.

“Let me know if you hear anything about that secretary,” Eggers called after him.