“Do you live in Paris?” Stone asked Tessa, after seating her.
“Paris, London, and Cap d’Antibes,” she replied. “Peter is a neighbor down there. And where do you live, Mr. Barrington?”
“It’s Stone, please. New York, Los Angeles, Paris, and the South of England.” He left out Key West and London.
“Where in the South of England?”
“Near Beaulieu, on the river.”
“How lovely, if you can stand the weather.”
“I love the weather. It was what drew me to England.”
“Then you must have a bit of duck in you.”
“Perhaps a bit. How long have you known Peter Grant?”
“Since I moved into his neighborhood in Cap d’Antibes a couple of years ago.”
“How firmly attached are you to him?”
“A bold question.”
“Being bold saves time.”
“Then the answer is not very. We’re both pretty slippery. How about you and Ms. Stevens?”
“We met only a few days ago. A business transaction.”
“Ah, good.”
“Do you work, or did you just choose the right ancestors?”
“A bit of both,” she said. “I arrange events and parties, when I can summon the clients and the energy.”
“Do you arrange events for Peter Grant?”
“Peter, I fear, is more often a guest than a host.”
“How ungenerous of him.”
“He is just a tiny bit tightfisted,” she said. “Not a quality I admire in a man.”
Stone wondered if that was a hint. “Nor a woman,” he said.
She laughed. “I take it you’re not referring to money.”
“No.”
“Then I am not ungenerous.”
“Do you ever come to New York?”
“From time to time.”
Stone gave her his card. “I’m in Paris for only a short time. Let me know if you fly across the pond.”
“I’ll do that,” Tessa replied.
“Tell me, does Peter Grant own an airplane?”
“I think he relies on the kindness of those who do. Why do you ask?”
“Because the woman sitting next to him is trying very hard to sell him one.”
“Then good luck to her,” Tessa said.
16
They had just been served the main course when Stone saw Callie take her phone from her purse, look at it, then leave the table and the dining room. A couple of minutes later she stuck her head back inside, caught Stone’s eye, and beckoned to him.
Stone excused himself and walked out into the hall. “Anything wrong?”
“Far from it,” she said. “I’ve just learned I’m being considered to mark a Global Express 6000.”
This was a much bigger and more expensive airplane than Stone’s. “Congratulations,” he said.
“Problem is, it’s at Le Bourget, and it’s leaving for New York in two hours.”
“I’ll take you . . .”
She held up a hand. “Don’t leave the party. The butler has summoned a car for me. I’ll go back to your house, pack, and be driven to Le Bourget. I’ll be back in New York in time for a breakfast meeting with the seller’s representative.”
“As you wish,” Stone said.
She kissed him and ran for the door, which was being held open by the butler.
Stone returned to the dining room and sat down.
“Problems?” Tessa asked.
“No, not at all.”
“Is she coming back?”
“No, she’s on her way to Le Bourget to catch a private flight to New York. She sells airplanes, and is being considered to sell a very expensive one, so she has to meet with the prospect tomorrow morning.”
“My goodness,” Tessa said. “That leaves you all alone, doesn’t it?”
“Not quite,” Stone said. “I have houseguests; would you like to join us for dinner tomorrow evening?”
“May I meet you somewhere?”
“My Paris address is on my card. Seven o’clock for drinks? We’ll go on from there.”
“Love to,” she said.
* * *
—
After dinner the group moved into the library for cognac and coffee. Dino sat down beside Stone. “I ran a check on your mystery man.”
“What did you find?”
“Zip. He’s still a mystery. I couldn’t even prove that he exists.”
Stone glanced across the room at Peter Grant, who was sipping a liqueur from a small glass. “Do you still have contacts in the Paris police?”
“I do.”
Stone rose. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Dino tugged at his sleeve. “Where’s Callie?”
“On her way to New York. I’ll tell you about it later.”
As Stone crossed the room, he saw Grant drain his glass and set it on the table beside him. It was swiftly taken away by the butler, set on a tray, and taken to the bar. Stone changed course and headed there. He finished his cognac and set down his glass.
“May I serve you more cognac?” the bartender asked.
“Please, a small one,” Stone replied. While the bartender tended, Stone moved so that his body was between the tray of empties and the others in the room. He slipped Grant’s glass into his jacket pocket and turned back in time to receive his new cognac.
Marcel arrived at Stone’s side. “Your lady friend seems to have abandoned us,” he said.
“She apologizes, Marcel, but she had to return to New York on short notice. Your butler was kind enough to provide a car to drive her to my house to pack and then to Le Bourget, where an airplane awaits her.”
“Does she have something to do with airplanes?” Marcel asked.
“She does. Did she try to sell you one?”
“Somehow, the subject came up.”
Stone laughed. “I hope you told her you already have a G-600.”
“I did, and she told me that you just bought a G-500.”