Stone Barrington got out of the Bentley at Bergdorf’s and began to tour the shops on the way downtown. He found a lovely cashmere dressing gown for Holly, and a sweater for Joan at Saks. He strolled over to Rockefeller Center and had a close-up look at the big tree.
He was standing in front of a shoe store, examining their display, as if he needed more shoes, when he caught a glimpse of the reflection of a familiar figure in the plate-glass window, but before he could turn around, the crowd of tourists surged, and the figure disappeared. What the hell, he thought, he’d lived in this city his whole life, and it would be unusual not to run into someone he knew, even if he couldn’t figure out who.
Alphonse Teppi took a tweed hat from his coat pocket and pulled it on, then donned his glasses. He thought Barrington had spotted him, but he seemed safe now.
—
Benton Blake and Gloria Parsons strolled along a pink beach in Bermuda, hand in hand. The sand made squeaking sounds as they walked. Benton was wearing a Panama hat and sunglasses; he didn’t want to be recognized and photographed with a woman at an intimate resort so soon after his divorce.
“Listen,” Gloria said, “if you’re not going to run for anything, what the hell do you care if you’re seen with me?”
“I’m still a politician,” Benton said, “and we think about those things. I’ve had years of being cautious about where I’m seen and with whom, and it doesn’t go away immediately after a divorce decree. It’s a reflex. It’s one thing to be seen together at a party or the theater, another to get caught shacking up in Bermuda.”
“Okay, I get it,” Gloria said. Her phone rang. “Excuse me a minute. Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Al.”
“Hey.”
“I’m on Barrington, like you asked, but it’s really boring.”
“Gee, I’m sorry about that. You didn’t ask for boredom money. What’s he doing?”
“He’s walking around Rockefeller Center, gawking at the tree and the skaters like somebody from Wichita, or something.”
“Most people are boring most of the time, Al.”
“Oh, all right, I’ll stay on him.” He hung up.
“What was that about?” Benton asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing, just an acquaintance who was bored and wanted to talk to somebody.”
“In New York?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the weather like there?”
“Cold and sunny, according to the forecast on TV this morning.”
“I’m glad to hear it, otherwise, why come to Bermuda?”
—
Stone went into a wine shop and found a very expensive bottle of vintage cognac for Dino, then he went into the Diamond Center and found a lovely broach for Viv. He couldn’t find anybody following him, but neither could he shake the feeling that somebody was out there.
—
Teppi got Danny Blaine on the phone. “What time do you get off work?”
“At five, like everybody else, unless I work late.”
“I’ll need you to spell me shortly after five. I didn’t dress for the weather, and I’m freezing my ass off.”
“So, you want me to freeze my ass off, is that it?”
“You’ve got a sheepskin coat, darling, and you’re young and hardy, unlike me.”
“All right, where do you want me to meet you?”
“Right now he’s in the Diamond Center, on Fifth at Forty-seventh Street, and he seems to generally be heading downtown.” He looked at his watch. “It’s four-thirty now, so he ought to be in your neighborhood around five, if he keeps this slow pace.”
“I’ll call you when I’m leaving my building.”
“Great.” Teppi hung up and stamped his feet, trying to get some circulation going. He looked up to see Barrington coming out of the Diamond Center, talking on his phone. Teppi turned his back and pulled the hat down over his forehead, watching Barrington’s reflection in a shop window. He was just standing on the corner, looking uptown.
This went on while Teppi kept stamping his feet. Then a green Bentley turned a corner and pulled up to where Barrington stood, and he got in and was driven away.
“Shit!” Teppi said aloud, and started waving his arms for a taxi. The Bentley turned a corner and glided out of sight. Teppi’s phone rang.
“Okay, I got out of the office early,” Danny said. “Where are you?”
“Never mind,” Teppi said, “he got into his Bentley and drove away, and there are no vacant cabs on Fifth Avenue.”
“Do you know where he’s going?”
“Probably home. You know the address—take a cab over there and see if he’s home. If he is, he won’t be going out for dinner until seven or so.”
“Tell me again why we’re doing this,” Danny said.
“Because Gloria wants it, that’s why. I can never say no to her, and neither can you. She got you out of the jug, didn’t she?”
“Oh, all right, I’ll get over there. Here comes a cab!”
—
Stone walked into Joan’s office. “I know this is weird,” he said, “but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being followed.” He looked out the window but saw nobody.
“Paranoia does not become you,” Joan replied, then went back to her work.
Stone sat down at his desk and went through his phone messages, then returned some calls.
A few minutes later Joan buzzed him.
“Yes?”
“You’re being followed,” she said. “Come in here.”
Stone went into her office.
“Look out there,” she said, pointing to the window.
Stone looked out and saw a thin, fashionable-looking young man leaning against a tree across the street and smoking a cigarette.
“He got out of a cab ten minutes ago,” Joan said.
“I’ve never seen him before,” Stone replied.
“Why do you think he’s following you?”
“If I don’t know him, how would I know why he’s following me?”
“I guess that makes a weird kind of sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Stone said.
“You want me to take a shot at him?” Joan asked.
“Not yet,” Stone replied. He walked out of her office, stepped out the front door, and yelled, “Hey!”
The young man jerked to attention.
“What do you want?”
He threw away his cigarette and sprinted toward Third Avenue.
Stone thought he was remarkably fast. He went back inside and found Joan standing at the window.
“Maybe you’re not paranoid,” she said.