16
They arrived back at
the Bel-Air house. Stone was having a second cup of coffee by the
pool when his cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Mike Freeman,
Stone.”
“Hello,
Mike.”
“I have some
preliminary results on the two background checks you asked us to
do, on Prince’s chauffeur and executive assistant.”
“Shoot.”
“The chauffeur’s name
is Alexei Popov, thirty-one years of age, born Ukraine, emigrated
to this country with his parents at age thirteen. He has a juvenile
record, now sealed, with charges of vandalism, auto theft
and—always a bad sign—cruelty to animals. We couldn’t get the
details. He was also charged with a murder-for-hire three years
ago, before he went to work for Terrence Prince, but the case
against him was dismissed in mid-trial when the main witness
against him vanished.”
“Uh-oh,” Stone
said.
“Exactly. Now, about
Carolyn Blaine: she doesn’t exist.”
“Beg
pardon?”
“She owns no property
in Los Angeles, has no telephone listing, no registered vehicle, no
credit record, and no one by that name has been divorced in L.A.
County for the past five years.
The educational
institutions you named—Miss Porter’s School, Mount Holyoke, and
Wharton have no record of attendance by anyone of that
name.”
“Well, well,” Stone
said. “I wonder if Mr. Prince is aware that his trusted assistant
doesn’t exist.”
“If you like, I can
have her followed by someone who might get her fingerprints at some
point, and we can run them. That might give us something more to go
on.”
“Please do,” Stone
said.
“I’ll get back to
you.” Both men hung up.
“Dino?” Stone
said.
Dino looked up from
the New York Times.
“Yeah?”
“Terrence Prince’s
driver is now a suspect in the death of Jennifer Harris. Can you
drop the dime on him with your friend Sergeant
Rivera?”
“Sure,” Dino replied.
“What evidence can I give him to support a charge?”
“No evidence, just an
educated guess.”
“You want me to tell
Rivera that my friend Barrington has a hunch that the guy killed Harris?”
“Is he looking at
anyone else for the murder?”
“Not that I know
of.”
“Then he’ll have
plenty of time on his hands. Name is Alexei Popov, thirty-one, a
previous murder-for-hire charge, dismissed, dead witness. He’s a
driver for Terrence Prince, who has a strong financial motive for
wanting Miss Harris dead. Tell him about the Centurion
thing.”
“Okay,” Dino said,
picking up the phone.
Stone dug out Carolyn
Blaine’s card and called her on his cell phone.
“Good morning,” she
said cheerfully.
“Yes, it is, isn’t
it?” he replied. “I’m staying at a beautiful house in Bel-Air with
a wonderful cook. Would you like to come here for dinner
tonight?”
“Just the two of
us?”
“There may be another
couple; I’m not sure yet.”
“What
time?”
“Seven?” He gave her
the address.
“See you
then.”
Stone hung up and
waited for Dino to finish his conversation with Rivera. “Dino, do
you think you might like to have dinner with your new friend Hetty
again tonight?”
“Why not?” Dino
asked. “Where are we going?”
“We’re dining in,”
Stone said. He picked up the phone and buzzed Manolo.
“Yes, Mr.
Stone?”
“We’d like to dine
here this evening, Manolo. Will that be all right?”
“I’ll tell Carmen,”
he said. “How many people and at what time?”
“Four; we’ll sit down
at eight, if that’s convenient for her. She can cook whatever she
likes.”
“And at what time
will your guests arrive?”
“Seven—a Ms. Blaine
and a Ms. Lang, arriving separately.”
“It will be a warm
evening; would you like to dine by the pool?”
“That would be
perfect,” Stone said.
“I’ll see to
everything.”
“Thank you, Manolo.”
Stone hung up.
“Why don’t we kidnap
Manolo and Carmen and spirit them back to New York?” Dino
asked.
“What a good idea!
What did Rivera have to say?”
“I passed everything
on and he seemed very interested, until I brought up Prince’s name.
Then he sort of shied away.”
“Mr. Prince’s
reputation apparently precedes him,” Stone said.
“Oh, yeah. He
promised he’d look into it, though.”
“Do you believe
him?”
“I got the impression
he’d be looking into it without telling his superiors,” Dino
said.