Cold Paradise (15 page)

31

S
TONE COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. HE AND DINO GOT DRESSED and into a car and drove to the Colony Hotel; he wanted to question the front desk man. As they pulled into the parking lot, he spotted Detective Riley and Lieutenant Lundquist sitting in an idling car thirty yards away. Stone walked over and rapped on the window, startling them both.

“What are you doing here, Stone?” Lundquist asked. “You’re going to spook the guy.”

“What guy?” Stone asked.

“Bartlett.”

“Bartlett has decamped.”

“What?”

“Come with me.” Stone started for the hotel lobby.

Lundquist caught up and fell into step with Stone. “What do you mean, ‘decamped’?”

“I mean, Bartlett has checked out of the hotel, and he didn’t leave a forwarding address.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I telephoned him half an hour ago, and that’s what the desk clerk told me. I want to find out if it’s true, or if Bartlett simply bought the front desk man, and I want you to flash your badge at him so he’ll talk to me.”

The desk clerk stared blankly at the badge. “You’re a police officer? Where? Your badge doesn’t look familiar.”

“He’s from Minneapolis,” Stone said. “I can have a Palm Beach badge here in thirty seconds, if that will refresh your memory.”

“My memory about what?”

“First of all, has Paul Bartlett really checked out?”

“Yes, I saw him go.”

“What forwarding address did he give?”

“I’ll show you his registration card,” the clerk said, riffling through a stack of them. “Here.” He held it up. The space for a forwarding address was blank.

“Did you check him out of the hotel?”

“In a manner of speaking. He didn’t even wait for his bill, said he had to catch a plane and I should mail it to him.”

“To where?”

“To the address on the card.”

Lundquist checked the card. “It’s his Minneapolis address. The guy’s gone home.”

“How much luggage did he have?” Stone asked.

“A lot; three or four bags.”

“And where did the bellman load his car?”

“Down on the street,” the clerk said, pointing at the side door.

“That’s why he got past you,” Stone said to Lundquist. “I’d like to see his room, please.”

The man pressed a few buttons on a machine, and a plastic card was spat out. “It’s suite four-oh-four. Help yourself,” he said.

Stone led the way to the elevator and pressed four. A moment later they were standing outside the suite, and Stone got the door open.

“Easy there,” Lundquist said, pushing past Stone. “I’d better go first.”

“It’s not a crime scene,” Stone said, following him. “Unless there’s a corpse stashed under the bed.”

Lundquist looked under the bed. “Nothing.”

“No kidding?” Stone looked around. The room had already been cleaned that morning, and the bed had not been used since. He went around the room, looking in closets and opening drawers.

“What are you looking for?” Lundquist asked.

“I don’t know,” Stone replied.

“Whatever he can find,” Dino said.

Lundquist started opening drawers, too.

Stone went back into the sitting room and looked around. The place was neat as a pin, the wastebaskets were empty, and there was not so much as a trace of Paul Bartlett, or whoever he was.

“What now?” Lundquist asked.

“The airport,” Stone replied. “He told the clerk he had to catch a plane.”

The three men left the hotel, and Lundquist got into the rear seat of Stone’s convertible.

“I should be wearing sunscreen,” Lundquist said as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, that pale Scandinavian skin will fry every time,” Dino said, half to himself, chuckling. “World’s whitest white men.”

“That’s what you call me,” Stone said.

“You, too.”

At the airport, they went to the nearest ticket counter, and Lundquist flashed his badge and asked about flights to Minneapolis.

“None of the airlines flies directly to Minneapolis from Palm Beach,” the woman behind the counter said. “You’d have to change, probably in Atlanta.”

“Will you check reservations for a Paul Bartlett?” Lundquist asked.

The woman turned to her computer terminal, tapped a few keys and looked at the screen. “I’ll do a search for the name,” she said, tapping more keys. “Nope, nobody by that name.”

“Try Paul Manning,” Stone said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

She tapped the keys again. “Nope, no Manning.”

“Do you recall, in the past hour or so, a tall man, six-three or -four, mid-to-late forties, dark hair going gray, fairly good-looking?”

“No, and I think I’d have noticed,” the woman said, smiling.

“Thanks for your help,” Stone said. He turned to Lundquist and Dino. “Let’s hit the charter services.”

“How do we find those?” Lundquist asked.

“There’s a big sign outside, pointing to them all,” Stone replied.

They went outside and checked the sign; there were half a dozen.

“Ebbe, you go in the car with Riley and check the north side of the field; Dino and I will check the south side.”

“Okay.” Lundquist jumped into the car with Riley.

“Well,” Dino said as they got into the Mercedes. “Lundquist isn’t the brightest tulip in the garden, is he?”

“Tulips are Dutch, not Scandinavian, and remember, he’s a lieutenant, like you.”

“Well, he can’t be all bad,” Dino said.

They checked all four companies on the south side of the field and came up with nothing. As they left the last one, Lundquist and Riley drove up.

“Nothing on the north side,” Riley said.

“Nothing over here, either,” Stone said. “Where’s the chief?”

“Probably in his office,” Riley replied.

Stone punched the number into his cell phone and asked for Griggs.

“Chief, Bartlett has checked out of the Colony.”

“Well, shit,” Griggs said. “You think he’s left town?”

“He told the desk clerk he had a plane to catch, but we’re at the airport now, and he didn’t fly out of here.”

“I guess he could have driven to Miami,” Griggs said. “It’s only an hour and a half to the airport.”

“Can you check the flights out of there for a Bartlett or Manning?”

“I’ll put somebody on it. Where do you think he went?”

“The only address we have is Minneapolis, but I don’t think he’s there.”

“Where do you think he is?”

“I think he’s still in Palm Beach. Remember, he checked out of the Chesterfield, too, without leaving a forwarding address, and he went directly to the Colony. Maybe, before you check the Miami flights, you should alert the other hotels in town to call you if he checks in.”

“Okay, Stone, I’ll do that.”

“It seems that every time we start to get a line on the guy, he changes hotels.”

“I’ll get back to you.”

Stone hung up.

“You think he’s in another hotel?” Dino asked.

“That’s my guess,” Stone said. Then he thought for a moment. “Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Come on,” Stone said, “let’s get back to the yacht, quick.”

32

S
TONE DROVE AS QUICKLY AS HE COULD, WITHOUT GETTING arrested, through West Palm and across the bridge. Traffic was heavy and frustrating, and it took them nearly half an hour to reach the Shames residence. The front door stood open, and he ran quickly through the central hall and out the open back door, with Dino close on his heels.

As he came up the gangplank he was presented with an uncharacteristic sight on
Toscana
: a mess. Towels and books were scattered indiscriminately across the afterdeck. Normally, Juanito made a mess disappear as soon as it presented itself.

Stone turned around and was not surprised to see a gun in Dino’s hand. He put a finger to his lips, then motioned for Dino to follow him. He walked through the saloon and down the corridor toward his cabin. His cabin door was open, and so was every other door in the passageway. He went into his cabin to retrieve the 9mm automatic from under his pillow. It was gone. He went back into the passage and climbed a few steps to the bridge, and as he approached it, he could hear music. He stepped onto the bridge, ready for anything. A portable radio rested on the dash above the wheel, softly playing rock music.

Stone crossed the bridge and left it on the other side, returning along the port corridor. Again, every cabin door was open.

He heard a footstep from somewhere aft and tiptoed toward it. Dino brushed past him, the gun out in front. He was armed, and he would lead the way; there was no talk about it. Stone followed him into the saloon.

“What the hell!”
a man’s voice shouted. “Who are you?”

Stone stepped around Dino to find Thad Shames standing in the saloon. “Thad,” he said. “It’s all right, Dino.”

“What’s going on here, Stone?” Shames demanded, clearly startled. “Who is this?”

“Thad, I’m sorry we frightened you. This is Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, of the New York Police Department. Dino, this is Thad Shames, our host here.”

Dino put the gun away, and the two men shook hands.

Thad collapsed onto a sofa. “Tell me what’s happened,” he said.

“I don’t know what’s happened,” Stone replied. “We came back to the yacht a few minutes ago to find it deserted, and all the cabin doors open.”

“No Callie or Liz? No crew?”

“Nobody.”

“There’s nobody in the main house, either,” Thad said, “but the front and rear doors were open.”

“I know; we just came through there.”

“Do you think Callie and Liz might have gone shopping or something?”

“I don’t think so; they did that earlier today.”

“Did you check the pool?”

“Pool? What pool?”

“There’s a pool on the property, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know. It must be very well concealed.”

“Come on, let’s take a look.” Thad led the way down the gangplank and into the gardens. Instead of taking the path to the house, he turned right and appeared to be about to walk through a hedge, when he turned and disappeared.

Stone followed and discovered a gap in the hedge, concealed by a quick left turn, followed by a right. He caught up with Thad, who had stopped and, with his hands on his hips, was staring ahead.

“Isn’t that lovely?” Thad said softly.

Stone looked and saw a beautiful swimming pool, completely surrounded by the high hedge. Beside it, perhaps thirty feet away, lay two women, asleep on their backs, naked.

Thad motioned them back through the gap in the hedge. “Let’s give them a little warning,” he said. “Callie? Liz?” he called out loudly.

“Yes?” Callie’s voice replied. “We’re out here.”

Shames led them through the hedge a second time. Callie and Liz were tying robes around themselves. “There you are,” he said. “I thought you had both decamped.” He pecked Callie on the cheek, then embraced Liz at more length.

“Not likely,” Callie said. “We thought we’d be safe here.”

“Where’s the crew?” Stone asked.

“I gave them the afternoon off. We weren’t expecting you, Thad.”

“And why are all the doors on the yacht open?”

“I thought it would be good to air out the cabins; keeps the mildew down.”

“You gave us a scare,” Stone said.

Callie reached into a pocket of her robe and produced the 9mm automatic. “We’re perfectly all right,” she said, handing the weapon to Stone. “Come on, let’s go back to the yacht.”

The group returned to
Toscana
, and Callie got drinks for everybody, except Liz, who excused herself to change. Callie followed her.

“Oh, Callie?” Thad called after her.

She turned. “Yes, Thad?”

“Book us a table someplace gaudy tonight. We’ll celebrate my return.”

Callie nodded and went toward her cabin.

“Where have you come from?” Stone asked.

“California. I’ve been sort of barnstorming LA and San Francisco and Silicon Valley, talking up the new company.”

“I hope it went well.”

“It did. How are things going here?”

“It’s gotten complicated,” Stone said. “Let me bring you up to date.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Stone told him, in detail, everything that had happened in his absence. When he was through, he stopped talking and waited.

“And you still don’t know if this guy is really Manning?”

“No,” Stone said. “Not even Liz can be sure.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Shames said.

“So do I, but that’s the way it is. She saw him only briefly in Easthampton, and something about the way he moved made her think the man she saw was Paul Manning. But she can’t be sure that Paul Bartlett is Manning.”

“And this guy Bartlett is a friend of Frank and Margaret?”

“Yes, from Minneapolis.”

“And you think he killed his wife for her money?”

“It seems a strong possibility.”

Shames grinned. “Well, this has certainly turned out to be interesting, hasn’t it?”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Stone said. “I’m sorry I don’t have any definite answers for you.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with them,” Shames said. “Well, Dino, welcome to Palm Beach. Callie told me you were coming, and I’m glad you could join us. Have you been made comfortable?”

“Yes, thanks,” Dino said. “She’s a beautiful yacht.”

“Thank you, I think so.” Thad stood up. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to my room in the main house and have a nap. I’ve been traveling for days, and I’m a little tired. I’ll bounce back for dinner, though.” He gave a little wave and left the yacht.

“He’s a pretty easygoing guy, isn’t he?” Dino said.

“He certainly is.”

“I mean, if I’d come aboard my yacht and found a stranger with a gun, I’d have freaked out, but he didn’t.”

“I thought he behaved very well, in the circumstances,” Stone said. “Looks like our goat-and-lion plan didn’t work. If anything, we’re worse off than we were this morning.”

“Well, there’s still dinner,” Dino said. “If we’re going someplace gaudy,
anybody
could be there, right?”

“In Palm Beach, you’re right.”