“Barton, this is Carla. Carla, this is Barton Cabot.”

She offered him a hand. “How do you do?” she said.

“I do very well, but never better than now,” Barton replied.

“You were expecting us?” Stone asked.

Barton shook his head. “Just something I ordered from a catalogue. It beeps in the house and barn when a car drives past the mailbox. Sort of a doorbell for automobiles.” He led them into the house and the study and offered them drinks.

“I think I’d rather have tea, if you can manage it,” Carla said.

“I’ll have bourbon in my tea,” Stone added.

Ten minutes later they were settled into comfortable furniture before a blazing fire.

“Carla, where do you live?” Barton asked.

“In New York City.”

“Where in New York City?”

“At the Carlyle Hotel. I sing there, in the Bemelmens Bar, four nights a week. Play the piano, too.”

“I’d love to hear you sometime.”

“I’d love for you to hear me sometime.”

“I have a piano.”

“Is it in tune?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I’m afraid I don’t play untuned pianos, and I sing only for money.”

“I’ll pay the Carlyle, then.”

“Good.”

Stone eased out of his chair, strolled to the other side of the study and inspected a set of leather-bound books. His ulterior motive realized, he was not needed on the other side of the room. He extracted a book, one of six in a leather-bound set. It was a signed first edition of Winston Churchill’s history of the Second World War. He wondered, philistine that he was, what that was worth at auction. He moved to a wall hung with pictures, close together. The nearest to him was a Western scene by Albert Bierstadt. He spotted two very fine landscapes from the Hudson River School. This was the wall of either a multimillionaire or a very shrewd collector who had been at it for a long time. He went on exploring, listening in occasionally on the conversation going on behind him.

“You appear to be of Scandinavian extraction,” Barton said.

“Half Swedish, half Sicilian.”

“What an interesting combination.”

“You have no idea.”

The conversation fell into a gap, and Stone returned to his seat.

“Is there a powder room nearby?” Carla asked Barton.

“Through that door, first left,” Barton replied.

Carla rose and left the room.

“Is she for me?” Barton asked.

“She is if you want her and she’s agreeable.”

“What have I done to deserve such a gift?”

“You’ll be getting me off a hook. She recently left a former, very powerful boyfriend who is a legal client of mine, in a manner of speaking, and if he catches me in her company, it might reflect badly on the firm to which I am counsel.”

“I’m happy to be of help,” Barton replied with a small smile.

“Would you like to keep her for a couple of days, then return her to the city?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Good. Now I have a puzzle for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Carla and I picnicked today at the spot where you and Holly and I watched Ab Kramer’s house.”

“Yes?”

“A truck arrived, and four men unloaded a large crate that, from the way they carried it, appeared to be empty.”

“So Ab is packing up something?”

“I don’t think so. A few minutes later the four men returned with the crate and practically tossed it back into the truck. I think it was still empty.”

Barton’s brow furrowed, then his eyebrows suddenly went up. “What were the dimensions of the crate?”

“I don’t know exactly, but it appeared to be around seven or eight feet by four or five feet, and it was deeper at the bottom than at the top.”

“Around the size it would take to hold a large mahogany secretary?”

Stone was about to reply when Carla came back into the room, and Barton signaled to stop their conversation.

“Somehow I sense you two have been talking about me,” Carla said.

“Actually, we have,” Stone said. “After running into our mutual acquaintance last night at the inn, I think it might be best if you didn’t come back to the house with me.”

“You mean you are abandoning me in the wilds of Connecticut?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Barton has agreed to shelter you for a bit, then return you to New York. I’ll pack your things and leave them on my front stoop, and you and Barton can collect them when you go to the Mayflower Inn for dinner this evening.”

“Why the Mayflower?” Barton asked.

“Because a former friend of Carla is staying there, and I think it would be a good idea if he saw the two of you together.”

“Rather,” Carla said, “than the two of us?”

“Yes. It would cause more grief than you can imagine if Harlan saw you and me together.”

“If you say so,” she replied.

Stone drained his teacup and stood up. “Will you two excuse me, then?”

“Of course,” Barton said. “I’ll walk you out. Be right back, Carla.”

Stone and Barton shuffled through the leaves to where he had parked his car.

“That was deftly done,” Barton said.

“It seemed the best solution to the problem for all concerned.”

“I’m grateful for your solution.”

“Barton, you were saying that the crate I saw at Ab’s house was of a size and shape to hold a mahogany secretary?”

“Yes.”

“But it was empty on both arrival and departure.”

“There might be a very good reason for that.”

“What would that be?”

“The crate was also of a size and shape that one could use to see if it would fit well in an empty space in Ab’s study.”

“Ah.”

“Ah, indeed.”

Stone got into the car. “We’ll talk more about this.”

“Good.”

Stone started his car and drove away, relieved to have Carla off his hands, at least temporarily and maybe permanently.

35

Stone arrived at Elaine’s that evening to find Dino parked at the usual table, but this time in the company of the lovely Genevieve. “Good evening,” he said, sitting down. Somebody placed a glass of Knob Creek before him.

“How was the country?” Genevieve asked.

Stone noticed that she was wearing a small but lovely diamond bracelet that he hadn’t seen before. “Like a picture postcard,” he said. “The foliage is at its very peak. Why don’t the two of you run up there for a couple of days and use the house?”

“What a nice idea,” she said. “We’ll have to coordinate our schedules, Dino, and see what we can arrange.”

“I’m am at your beck and call,” Dino said. Whatever his transgression against Genevieve might have been, he had apparently been absolved and had promised not to sin again.

Genevieve excused herself and went to the ladies’.

“Did you figure out what you did?” Stone asked Dino.

“Something to do with the relative placement of our shoes in the closet, I think. I’m still not sure exactly what.”

“Never touch anything of hers, unless you’re helping her remove it from her body,” Stone said.

“Sage advice, for once.”

“What do you mean, for once? I always give sage advice. Your life would be so much richer and fuller and happier if you would just take my sage advice. If you’ll cast your thoughts back a few years, you’ll recall that I advised you not to marry Mary Ann.”

“Yeah, but you waited until she was pregnant to advise me.”

“I didn’t say my advice was always timely, just sage.”

“It wasn’t very timely with Genevieve, either.”

“You had only to ask.”

“You mean, I should call you up and ask you about the arrangement of her clothes in the closet?”

“Such a call might have saved you the purchase of a diamond bracelet.”

Dino reddened slightly. “You noticed that, huh?”

“Noticed it? She was waving it back and forth under my nose. My eyes must have looked like I was watching a tennis match.”

“Well, I know a guy in the diamond district; he gave me a price.”

“I would not advise you on the purchase of diamond jewelry,” Stone said. “I have always avoided anything to do with diamonds.”