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Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. FRESH DISASTERS
  3. BOOKS BY STUART WOODS
  4. FRESH DISASTERS
  5. Copyright
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  64. AUTHOR’S NOTE

“I got you three million to cover any hidden assets.”

“Wow!” she said softly.

“It’s a good deal, Bernice, and without the pain of a trial. I’ll have it ready for your signature by the end of the day.”

“I’ll sign it,” she said.

Stone hung up with his heart pounding.

Joan came into the office. “What did you get for her?”

“The earth, sun and moon,” Stone said, hardly able to believe it himself. Bernie’s net worth was going to run to at least forty million dollars, and he was going to get fifteen percent of half of it. That was…he did the arithmetic…good God, three million dollars! Stone’s mind spun out of control; he started thinking about one of those new, very light jet airplanes.

24

Stone had a dinner date with the lovely, rangy Celia, but first he had promised her he would perform a chore. He got out of the cab in front of the SoHo gallery and peered through the window at the very good crowd that had assembled to see the artist’s work. A very large sign in the window read:

DEVLIN DALTRY

“Wait for me,” Stone said to the cabbie. “I won’t be long. He walked into the gallery, grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray and looked around for the artist. He located him at the center of a small group of women who were at least as fascinated with him as with his sculpture, so Stone passed a little time peering at the lumps of marble and steel arrayed on pedestals throughout the large room. They were uniformly uninteresting, Stone thought, the product of an empty mind.

Shortly, he spotted Devlin Daltry, slim and dressed entirely in black and momentarily alone, so he set his champagne glass down on a pedestal next to a lump titled “Doubt,” walked quickly over to the man and offered his hand. “How do you do, Mr. Daltry,” he said, squeezing his hand, and with his other taking him by the arm and steering him out of the hearing of others.

Daltry followed, because he had to. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“My name is Stone Barrington, and I am the attorney representing your former friend, Celia.”

“I don’t have to talk to you,” Daltry said, attempting and failing to free himself from Stone’s clutches.

“That’s right, you don’t,” Stone replied. “But you have to listen for just a moment, or I’ll break your hand.” He squeezed it for emphasis.

Daltry winced. “All right, get it over with.”