“You didn’t have to. I took one look at her this morning—or rather she took one look at me—and I knew. She knows we slept together, doesn’t she?”

Stone nodded and sipped his wine. “I thought it best to tell her.”

“You getting serious about this girl?”

“Too soon to say,” Stone said, uncomfortable.

She placed her hand on his. “I’m sorry to embarrass you, Stone. It’s just that I think I envy her a little. Maybe more than a little.”

Stone didn’t know what to say.

“But,” Liz said, “we must learn to be content with our lot, mustn’t we? Lord knows, I have no complaints. I was just feeling a little greedy.”

“I’m flattered,” Stone said.

They walked back to the car, and as Stone opened the door for Liz, he noticed that the rear tire on the curb side had gone flat. He squatted and examined it. There was a large hole in the tread, too big a hole for a slow leak. It was as if somebody had plunged a knife into it.

Stone shrugged off his jacket and tossed it into the rear seat. “I’m afraid we’ve got a flat,” he said. “It’ll just take a couple of minutes to change.”

“Why don’t you call the Mercedes service people?” she asked. “They’ll come and change it.”

“It’ll only take a minute.” He opened the trunk and went to work. He thought about it as he cranked the jack. Was somebody really crazy enough to slash a tire in broad daylight in the middle of Worth Avenue?

Chapter 17

17

STONE SPENT THE AFTERNOON READING, AND LATE IN THE day Joan Robertson called from New York.

“We’ve closed with the insurance company,” she said,

“and I’ve wired the funds. Want me to fax you a fully executed copy of the document?”

“Please,” Stone replied. “I expect Mrs. Harding would like to have it.”

“Right away.” She paused. “Stone?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something I think I ought to mention. It seemed like nothing, really, but I just have a feeling . . .”

“What is it?”

“You’ve had some phone calls the last few days, from a man who wouldn’t give his name.”

“What did he say?”

“He wanted to speak to you; then, when I told him you were away, he wanted to know where you were.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No, I felt uneasy about it. I just told him that I’d have you call him, but he wouldn’t leave a number.”

“How did he sound?”

“Nice, at first, then insistent. He was very annoyed that I wouldn’t tell him where you were.”

“And he wouldn’t leave a number?”

“No, but I nailed him on caller ID. The first two times he called from the Brooke Hotel, on Park Avenue.”

“Did the readout give a room number?”