Hot Mahogany Read Free

time.”
    “Too late; you already admitted it.”
    “Well, there’s no point in going over to Sotheby’s, is there?”
    “Why not? My car is outside.”
    They tossed down their drinks, left Elaine’s and got into Dino’s car, driven by a young officer. “Take us to Rockefeller Center,” Dino said. “Sotheby’s.”
    “So, what rookie are you torturing these days?” Stone asked, nodding at the driver.
    “He’s a lucky kid, this one; he could be out there getting shot at, right, Leary?”
    “You’re not related to Captain Leary, now retired, are you?” Stone asked.
    “He’s my father,” the young man said, driving swiftly down Second Avenue.
    “Well,” Stone said, “he made our lives hell for a few years at the One-Nine.”
    “So he says,” Leary replied. “Says he enjoyed every minute of it, too.”
    “Shut up and drive, Leary,” Dino said.
    They found Sotheby’s, and Dino had Leary drive them around the block a couple of times, while they looked into darkened doorways with a flashlight.
    “Your chicken has flown the coop,” Dino said. “Leary, take Mr. Barrington to his lovely home in Turtle Bay.”
    “I know the joint,” Leary said.
    “It’s not a joint,” Stone pointed out.
    “Whatever.” Leary had them there in five minutes.
    As they stopped, Dino’s cell phone rang. “Bacchetti. Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He hung up and turned toward Stone. “There’s a Barton Lowell Cabot at 110 North Shore Road, in Warren, Connecticut. The only guy by that name in three states.”
    Stone made a note of the address.
    “Look,” Dino said, “if he hasn’t turned up by morning, I’ll have the watch sergeant spread the word about him at the shift change.”
    “Thanks, Dino. I’ll keep you posted.” Stone got out of the car, and it drove away. Stone walked up his front steps, and as he was fumbling for his key, he saw the moving shadow of someone behind him. He spun around, ready to repel a mugger, and found Barton Cabot standing there.
    “Holy shit, Barton,” Stone said. “You scared me half to death.”
    “I’m sorry,” Cabot replied.
    “Why did you leave Elaine’s?”
    “I’m supposed to sleep here tonight,” Cabot replied, with perfect logic.
    “Why did you go to Sotheby’s?”
    Cabot looked puzzled. “I don’t know. But then I came here.” Stone looked at the address on his jotter. “Do you recognize 110 North Shore Road, Warren, Connecticut?”
    “Sure, I live there.”
    Stone sighed and unlocked the door. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

4

    Stone showed Barton to a guest room. “I’ll get you some pajamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow,” Stone said, “as soon as I turn off the lights downstairs and set the alarm.”
    “Okay,” Barton said, sitting on the bed.
    Stone went downstairs, switched everything off and tapped in the alarm code, then he went back upstairs to his bedroom to get the clothes for Barton. When he walked into the master suite, Barton was there, staring at four paintings grouped on a wall.
    “Can I help you, Barton?”
    “You’ve got some nice things in this house,” Barton replied. “I’ll give you eight hundred thousand dollars for these four pictures.”
    “They’re not for sale,” Stone said.
    “Do you have any more Matilda Stones?”
    “No, just those. She was my mother.”
    “Oh. She’s a wonderful painter,” Barton said. “You don’t often see her work on the market.”
    “Barton, why do you think you have eight hundred thousand dollars?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “What do you do for a living?”
    “I buy, I sell.”
    “Pictures?”
    Barton looked puzzled. “I guess.”
    Stone went to his dressing room and got Barton the things he needed, then put them in his arms and turned him toward the stairs. “Do you remember where your room is?”
    “Down the stairs, first door on the left,” Barton replied. “I remember things I just learned.”
    “And I’m sure you’ll remember even more