Stuart Woods 6 Stone Barrington Novels
L.A. Dead
Cold Paradise
The Short Forever
Dirty Work
Reckless Abandon
Two-Dollar Bill
Stuart Woods
Table of Contents
L.A. Dead
Cold Paradise
The Short Forever
Dirty Work
Reckless Abandon
Two-Dollar Bill
Praise for L.A. Dead
“Alive with action and humor . . . so delightfully, typically Woods, it will send his fans into paroxysms of joy. . . . Entertainment novels can’t get any better than this.”
—The Associated Press
“One of the smoothest writers in the pop-literature biz and always a pleasure to read. . . . A stylish whodunit.”
—The Detroit News
“Barrington’s fans will likely welcome the detective’s newest California-chic adventure.”
—Publishers Weekly
“[A] nerve-racking thriller.”
—The Stuart News/Port St. Lucie News (FL)
Praise for Stuart Woods and His Bestselling Novels
“An action-packed puzzler.”
—People
“Keeps you turning page after page.”
—The Washington Post
“A whale of a story.”
—The New York Times
“Blackmail, murder, suspense, love—what else could you want in a book?”
—Cosmopolitan
“Terrific.”
—Pat Conroy
“A fast-paced thriller.”
—Rocky Mountain News
“Another gem. . . . A book to read and get chills from on even the hottest day.”
—San Diego Union-Tribune
“Woods delivers a marvelously sophisticated, thoroughly modern, old-fashioned read.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
SIGNET
Published by New American Library, a division of
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Published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a G. P. Putnam’s Sons edition.
First Signet Printing, September
Copyright © Stuart Woods, 2000
All rights reserved
eISBN : 978-1-101-10013-4
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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This book is for Barbara Danielson and Lewis Moore.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
Forty-two
Forty-three
Forty-four
Forty-five
Forty-six
Forty-seven
Forty-eight
Forty-nine
Fifty
Fifty-one
Fifty-two
Fifty-three
Fifty-four
Fifty-five
Fifty-six
Fifty-seven
Fifty-eight
Fifty-nine
Sixty
Sixty-one
Sixty-two
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
One
ELAINE’S, LATE. STONE BARRINGTON AND DINO BACCHETTI sat at table number four, looking grim. Elaine joined them.
“So, what’s happening here? You two look like you’re going to start shooting any minute.”
“I’m getting married,” Stone said. “Congratulate me.”
“Congratulations,” Elaine said. “Anybody you know?”
“Hilarious,” Stone said.
“It would be, if it weren’t so insane,” Dino added.
“You and Dolce are really going to do this?” Elaine asked, incredulous.
“Now don’t you start,” Stone growled.
“He won’t listen to me,” Dino said. “I’ve been telling him for a year to stay away from her.”
“What’ve you got against your sister-in-law?” Elaine asked him.
“First of all, she’s my sister-in-law,” Dino replied. “Second, she’s evil. Her old man is the devil, and Dolce is his handmaiden.”
“Don’t start that again, Dino,” Stone said. “I don’t want to hear it anymore. We’re in love, we’re getting married, and that’s it. What’s wrong with that?”
Elaine shrugged
. “You’re still in love with Arrington,” she said. “Everybody knows that.”
“What do you mean, ‘everybody’?” Stone demanded.
“Me and Dino,” Elaine replied.
“Right,” Dino chimed in.
“She’s married; she has a child,” Stone said.
“So?” Elaine queried. “So, she’s married to a movie star; nobody ever took a girl away from a movie star? Happens all the time.”
“I’m not breaking up anybody’s marriage,” Stone said, “and Arrington knows it. I’ve told her so. Anyway, there’s the boy.”
“Wouldn’t be the first kid raised by a stepfather,” Elaine said.
“I think it’s Stone’s kid, anyway,” Dino said.
“Dino, I told you, the blood test was done; I saw the lab report. The boy is Vance Calder’s, and that’s all there is to it. I’m not taking a kid away from his father. Besides, I like Vance.”
“What’s not to like?” Elaine asked. “He’s handsome; he’s the biggest star in Hollywood; he’s the most charming man I ever met.” She sipped her drink. “Present company included,” she added.
“Thanks,” Stone said. “I needed that.”
“So, when’s the happy day?” Elaine asked. “You going to be a June bride?”
“Monday,” Stone replied. “In Venice.”
“This is Thursday,” Elaine pointed out. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We’re leaving tonight,” Stone said.
“I got news for you. It’s after midnight, all the flights have departed.”
“We’re taking a private jet, belongs to some friend of Eduardo.”
“Not bad,” Elaine said, looking impressed. “That way, you get to your hotel late enough tomorrow, so you don’t have to wait for the people in your room to check out.”
“Eduardo has a palazzo,” Dino said. “We’re being forced to stay there.”
“You’re going, too?” Elaine asked, incredulous again.
“He’s my best man,” Stone said glumly.
“If I don’t go, my wife will divorce me,” Dino said.
“She’s Italian,” Elaine pointed out. “She won’t divorce you.”
“The Bianchi family has found a way around that,” Dino said. “Remember how Dolce got divorced?”
“I didn’t know she was married,” Elaine said.
“A youthful indiscretion. She married a capo in the Bonnano family when she was nineteen. It lasted less than three weeks, until she caught him in her bed with her maid of honor.”
“So she got a divorce?”
“Not for some years. When it was inconvenient for her to still be married, the guy turned up in New York dead. Took two in the back of the head, a classic hit.”
“Let me get this straight,” Elaine said, turning toward Stone. “The girl you’re marrying on Monday in Venice had her ex popped?”
“Of course not,” Stone said hotly. “That’s Dino’s theory. In the guy’s line of work, it was an occupational hazard. Anybody could have had it done.”
“Yeah, sure,” Dino said. “Funny, it didn’t get done until Dolce decided to throw a bag over Stone’s head and lead him to the altar.”
Stone glanced at his watch. “Dolce and Mary Ann are going to be here any minute. I want you to decide what you’re going to do, Dino; are you going to stand up for me, or not? And if you are, I don’t want to hear another word about Eduardo and his connections. You married into the family, too, remember?”
“Yeah, with a bun in the oven and a gun to my head. If I hadn’t married her, I’d be at the bottom of Sheepshead Bay right now, with a concrete block up my ass.”
“You love that girl, Dino,” Elaine said, “and the boy, too. You know goddamned well you do.”
Dino looked into his drink and said nothing.
“Make up your mind, Dino,” Stone said. He looked up to see Dolce and Mary Ann walk into the restaurant. “They’re here.” He stood up to greet them.
“All right, all right,” Dino said. “I guess I can’t let you go over there by yourself.”
Stone kissed the gorgeous Dolce. She was wearing a cashmere track suit and a huge smile.
“Everybody ready?” she asked. “The car’s at the curb, all the bags are in the trunk.”
“Everybody’s ready,” Stone said, shooting a warning glance at Dino.
Elaine stood up and kissed everybody. “Mazel tov,” she said. “Send me a postcard.”
“Come with us,” Stone said. “There’s room.”
“And who’d mind the store?” she asked.
“You’ve got plenty of help here.”
“They’d steal me blind. Go on, get going; send me a postcard from Venice.”
“You bet,” Stone said, hugging her.
The foursome left the restaurant. At the curb a spectacular car was waiting.
“What is this?” Stone asked, running a finger along the glossy paintwork.
“It’s a Mercedes Maybach,” Dolce replied. “The first one in the country. Papa knows somebody in Stuttgart.”
“Papa knows somebody everywhere,” Dino muttered, collecting a sharp elbow in the ribs from Mary Ann.
They piled into the spacious rear seats, facing each other, Pullman style.
“Not bad,” Dino admitted, looking around. “I don’t suppose there’s a phone? I’ve gotta check in with the cop shop.” Dino ran the detective squad at the nineteenth precinct.
“Oh, leave it, Dino,” Stone said. “They can get along without you for a week.”
Dolce handed Dino a phone, and he began dialing. “Did you pack all my stuff?” Dino asked Mary Ann.
“Everything’s in the trunk,” she replied. “I ironed your boxer shorts, too.” She winked at Dolce. “They love it when you iron their underwear.”
“I’ll remember that,” Dolce laughed.
“Gladys,” Dino said into the phone, “I’m off. You’ve got the number in Venice if anything really important comes up, otherwise I don’t want to know, got that? Good. Take care.” He hung up. “Okay, I’m cut loose,” he said to the others. “What kind of jet we going in, Dolce? I hate those little ones; this better be a G-Four or better.”
“Wait and see,” Dolce said smugly.
They drove onto the tarmac at Atlantic Aviation at Teterboro Airport, across the Hudson in New Jersey, and up to an airplane that dwarfed everything on the ramp.
“Holy shit!” Dino said as they got out of the limousine. “What the fuck is this?”
“It’s a BBJ,” Dolce replied, grabbing her jewelry box and cosmetics case from the backseat. The others took their hand luggage from the trunk.
“Sounds like a sandwich.”
“A Boeing Business Jet, the biggest thing in the corporate skies.”
Hank Esposito, who ran Atlantic Aviation, was at the airplane’s stair door to greet them. “You’re fueled for maximum range,” he said. “You could make it to Tokyo, if you wanted.”
“Not a bad idea,” Dino said, boarding the airplane.
“Dino . . .” Stone warned.
Esposito helped the chauffeur stow the luggage into a forward area of the interior.
The party stepped into a cabin that looked like the living room of a New York City town house.
Stone was flabbergasted. “Where’s the fireplace and the grand piano?” he asked.
An Armani-clad stewardess took their hand luggage and showed them through the airplane. Besides the big cabin, there was a conference room and, behind that, two sleeping cabins, each with its own bathroom.
Dino shook his head. “The wages of sin,” he said under his breath, avoiding Stone’s glance.
As if from a great distance, there was the sound of jet engines revving, and almost imperceptibly, the big airplane began to move.
Two
SOMEWHERE OVER THE ATLANTIC, STONE STIRRED IN his sleep and turned over, bringing his chest against Dolce’s naked back. He reached over her and cupped a breast in his hand, resting h
is cheek on the back of her neck. With thumb and forefinger, he lightly caressed the nipple.
At that moment, a chime sounded and the soft voice of the stewardess spoke. “Ms. Bianchi, we’re two hours from our destination. If you and your party would like breakfast, it will be ready in half an hour.”
“I think we’re going to be late for breakfast,” Stone breathed into Dolce’s ear.
She turned over, put her feet on the floor, and stood up. “No, we’re not,” she said.
“You mean you’re spurning your intended?”
“I mean I’ve decided to be a virgin until we’re married.”
“Isn’t it a little late for that?”
“I can start over whenever I like,” she said, “and I’ve just started over.”
Shortly, they joined Dino and Mary Ann at the breakfast table. Scrambled eggs and smoked Italian bacon were set before them.
“That was the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had on an airplane,” Dino admitted.
“We didn’t sleep all that much,” Mary Ann rejoined, poking him in the ribs.
Stone indicated the large moving map at the front of the cabin. “We’re just crossing the Portuguese coast,” he said. “Nice tailwind; we’re doing over six hundred miles an hour.”
The moving map dissolved, and CNN International appeared on the screen.
“Turn that off,” Dolce said to the stewardess. “I don’t need news for a while.
The stewardess pressed a button, and Vivaldi came softly over hidden speakers. “Better?” she asked.
“Perfect,” Dolce said. She turned to Stone and the others. “I have a little announcement,” she said.
“Shoot,” Stone replied.
“Papa is giving us the Manhattan town house for a wedding present.”
Stone stopped eating. His fiancée was referring to a double-width brick-and-granite mansion in the East Sixties that Eduardo Bianchi had built. He took Dolce’s hand. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I can’t accept that. It’s very generous of Eduardo, but I already have a house, and we’ll be living there.”