“I’ll meet you. Dino, you’ve got to stop driving around with the siren on. A trip to the airport is not exactly an emergency call.”

“It is if I say it is,” Dino replied. “Traffic is hell on the FDR Drive right now.”

“And the siren helps.”

“You bet your ass it does. How’s the weather down there?”

“Gorgeous,” Stone said, peering through the driving rain at the road ahead, which was barely visible. “I hope you’re bringing a swimsuit.”

“Damn right I am—my golf clubs, too.”

“Great. How about a tennis racket?”

“You know I’m a lousy tennis player.”

“You’re a lousy golfer, too, but you’re bringing your clubs.”

“If that sonofabitch doesn’t get the fuck out of the way, ram him!” Dino shouted, apparently at his driver.

“Have you got another rookie detective at the wheel?”

“So what if I have?”

“Give the kid a break, Dino. He can’t drive over the traffic.”

“My flight leaves in twenty minutes.”

“So what? You’re not going through the airport; you’re going to flash your badge and drive out onto the tarmac, right up to the airplane, aren’t you?”

“You bet your ass, but I’ve still got to move to make it.”

“So call the airline and tell them it’s a police emergency, to hold the flight.”

“Jesus, why didn’t I think of that? Get off the phone!”

“I’ll see you at Palm Beach Airport,” Stone said, and pressed the end button. He laughed aloud at the thought of Dino holding the flight for a police emergency, then arriving at the airplane carrying his golf clubs.

He called the yacht, and Callie answered.

“Hi. Where are you?”

“On the way back from the Rolls dealer.”

“Find out anything?”

“I’ll tell you later. Have you heard a weather forecast for tomorrow?”

“Rain ends late tonight; sunny all day tomorrow.”

“Thank God. Dino’s arriving this afternoon, with golf clubs. He’d shoot me if he couldn’t play. Can you find us some golf somewhere?”

“Sure. I’ll book a tee time at the Breakers. Ten o’clock okay?”

“Perfect. Dino’s bringing his own clubs. I’ll need to rent some.”

“You can use Thad’s; he won’t mind.”

“Do you play?”

“I’ve got a twelve handicap. What’s yours?”

“We’ll make it a threesome, then,” Stone said, avoiding an answer.

“Well,” she said, laughing, “I’m glad you’re interested in some kind of threesome.”

Chapter 27

27

STONE DROVE TO THE AIRPORT, AND THE RAIN HAD STILL not let up. At times he was driving through three and four inches of water in the street, and the wind had started to get up, as well. At the airport, he parked at the curb and ran inside, and the hell with tickets.

He found Dino in baggage claim, just getting his golf clubs off the carousel.