“No, you listen.” Stone took a card from his wallet and wrote his cell phone number on the back. “Here’s how you can get in touch with me.”

Keating looked at the card on the table but didn’t pick it up. “I don’t want to get in touch with you. Now, leave.”

“How would you like to have twenty-one million dollars?” Stone asked.

“You’re going to give me twenty-one million dollars?”

“I think I told you this before, but your father is selling the company, and that’s your share of the proceeds.”

“That’s what my father says my share is?” Keating asked.

“It is.”

“Then it’s the wrong amount. My father is a liar and a thief, and if he’s offering me that much money, he owes me a lot more.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Why don’t you ask my Uncle Harry?”

“I didn’t know you had an Uncle Harry.”

“I don’t anymore; he’s dead.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Barrington, my Uncle Harry is the one who made the company into what it is. My father had nothing to do with its success, and now that Uncle Harry is dead, he’s cashing in.”

“What about your grandfather? Can he still run it?”

“My grandfather has Alzheimer’s; he’s in a home.”

“Do you have any interest in running the company?” Stone asked.

“Not in the least.”

“Then why don’t you just take the money?”

“I told you, my father is a liar and a thief. He made a drunk of my mother, and he probably murdered my Uncle Harry.”

“Do you have any evidence of that?”

“No, but I understand the police are looking into it.”

“When did your Uncle Harry die?”

“Three months ago. I saw his obituary in the New York Times. ”

“So you’re not going to sign the papers okaying the sale?”

“No, I’m not. That will royally screw my father, and I’ll enjoy that.”

Shit, Stone thought. “Then I’m wasting my time?”

“Yes, you are. By the way, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry you got socked in the neck the last time we met.”

“Why did that happen?”

“My girlfriend is sometimes a little overprotective. Apparently, she thought you meant me ill.”

“Where is she now?” Stone said, looking behind him.

“Relax, she’s in the ladies’ room.”

“Good. By the way, did you know that Charley Boggs is dead?”

Keating’s face fell. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw them fish his body out of Garrison Bight this morning. You’ll read about it in tomorrow’s paper.”

“Oh, shit,” Keating said.

“Well, yeah. The police want to talk to you about it.”

“Me? I would never hurt Charley. We’ve been friends since prep school.”

“Prep school? I thought Boggs was just some Key West drug dealer.”