Blind Date Read Free Page B

she said she wouldn’t go, and when he offered to pay her, she said no moneywould make her sleep with him again. This time he believed she meant it.”
    The boat bumped against a rocky ledge. Levanter set it gliding again. Pauline’s attention was on him, but she said nothing.
    â€œLater in the evening,” he went on, “the baseball player called the owner of the club. Using a made-up name, he claimed to be an old customer of hers and promised to pay double the regular price if she could be sent to his suite. He left the door unlocked and waited in the bathroom. When she knocked, he shouted for her to take the money from the dresser and make herself comfortable. Seconds later he ran out and locked the door. Once again he told her that he’d always loved her. She threw the money at him and started to dress. He put his arms around her. As she tried to struggle free, he reached into a drawer for his gun. She laughed at him. She died of two bullet wounds. After a short trial, he was acquitted.”
    In the morning, Levanter drove to Aratus, a three-story chalet with several garages, a tennis court, and iron sculptures adorning acres of private park. The driveway appeared to have been swept and sanded recently, and everything about the chalet suggested constant care.
    Levanter parked just outside the entrance to the grounds and waited. The ValPina postman pulled up to the house in his small car. He placed a stack of mail on the front doormat, rang the bell, and, without waiting for a response, drove away again. Levanter left his car and walked to the door with the confident stride of an expected visitor. At the door, he bent down as if to brush the snow off his boots and trousers, and, certain he could not be seen from any of the windows, he quickly perused the mail. He spotted a large manila envelope, looked at the return address, and deftlytucked it under his coat. Then, in case anyone in the house had seen him approach, he stepped far enough back to be visible and slapped his forehead as if he had just discovered that he was at the wrong house. As he was about to drive away, he saw the chalet door open. A black woman in a maid’s uniform picked up the mail and, without looking around, took it inside.
    An hour later, Levanter telephoned Aratus. A butler answered and Levanter asked for Clarence Weston, Sr. It was a matter concerning Pacific and Central Enterprises, Inc., he said.
    Weston came to the phone. Levanter introduced himself and asked for an appointment.
    â€œWhat is it you want from me, Mr. Levanter?” asked Weston in the manner of a man accustomed to fending off requests.
    Levanter was not deterred. “Some highly confidential information about Pacific and Central has leaked. I think you should know about it.”
    â€œI know my company, Mr. Levanter. If something has leaked, it wasn’t confidential. If that’s all, then —” He was ready to hang up.
    â€œIt’s about the Monaco deal,” said Levanter. “And the results of the talks Rashid, Omani, and Young held in Lake Tahoe.”
    Weston was silent.
    â€œI’m sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Weston,” said Levanter, his tone indicating he too was now ready to end their conversation.
    â€œWhere are you calling from, Mr. Levanter?” Weston asked quickly.
    Levanter gave the name of his hotel.
    â€œMy car will pick you up in twenty minutes.”
    When Levanter arrived at the chalet, Weston was waiting for him in a large living room. Apparently in his sixties, he had gray hair and a ruddy complexion. As he gestured Levanter to the soft leather chair beside him, Weston’s bright eyes seemed to be making a careful assessment of his visitor. The black maid whom Levanter had seen picking up the mail now brought in coffee, cognac, and a plate of biscuits.
    â€œWhat do you do, Mr. Levanter?” he asked.
    â€œI do as I please.”
    Weston laughed, displaying the unnatural