Read Online Stone Barrington 06-11 by Stuart Woods - Free Book Online

both.
    “Now, can I see Mr. Calder’s dressing room?” Stone asked.
    “Right this way, sir.”
    They walked back into the bedroom, around the bed, and through another door. The arrangement was the same but both the dressing room and bath were smaller and decorated in a more masculine style.
    “Where is Mr. Calder’s safe?” Stone asked.
    Manolo went to a mirror over a chest of drawers, pressed it, and it swung open to reveal a steel safe door, approximately fifteen by twenty inches, a size that would fit between the structural studs. An electronic keypad, not a combination lock, was imbedded in the door.
    “Do you know the combination?” Stone asked.
    “Yessir, it’s one-five-three-eight. You press the star key first, then the numbers, then the pound key, then turn that knob.”
    Stone opened the safe, which was empty. “What did Mr. Calder keep in here?” he asked.
    “He kept his jewelry box and a gun,” Manolo said.
    “Do you know what kind of gun it was?”
    “I don’t know the brand of it, but it was an automatic pistol. There was a box of ammunition, too, that said nine millimeter, but the police took that.”
    “What was in the jewelry box?”
    “Watches and other jewelry. Mr. Calder liked watches, and he had six or seven. There were some cuff links and studs, too; a nice selection.”
    “What did the box look like?”
    “It was about a foot long by, I guess, eight inches wide, and maybe three or four inches deep. Deep enough to have the watches on mounts that displayed them when you opened the box. It was made out of brown alligator skin.”
    “The safe is pretty shallow,” Stone said.
    “The box would just fit into it, lying flat on the shelf, there. The pistol was at the bottom, along with the box of bullets.”
    Stone took one more look around. “Thank you, Manolo, that’s all I need. Where is Mr. Calder’s study? I’d like to make some phone calls.”
    “The main door is off the living room,” Manolo said, “but you can get there this way, too.” He walked to a double rack of suits, took hold of the wooden frame, and pulled. The rack swung outward. Then he pressed on the wall, and a door swung open, offering entry to the study.
    Stone followed the butler into the study, then watched as he swung the door shut. Closed, it was a bookcase like the others in the room.
    “Mr. Calder liked little secret things like that,” Manolo said, smiling. “What time would you like dinner, Mr. Barrington?”
    “Seven o’clock would be fine.”
    “And how do you like your beef cooked?”
    “Medium, please.”
    “Would you like it served in the dining room or in the guesthouse?”
    “In the guesthouse, I think.”
    “We’ll see you at seven, then,” Manolo said, and left the room.
    Stone turned to examine Vance Calder’s study.

Eleven

    T HREE ACADEMY AWARDS GAZED AT STONE FROM THE mantel of the small fireplace in the room. Stone knew that Vance had been nominated seven times and had won three. The room was paneled in antique pine that radiated a soft glow where the light struck it; there were some good pictures and many books. The room was extremely neat, as if it were about to be photographed for Architectural Digest.
    Stone sat down at Calder’s desk, and as he did, the phone rang. He checked the line buttons and saw that it was the third line, the most secret number. He picked it up. “Hello?”
    There was a brief silence. “Who is this?” a woman’s voice asked.
    “Who’s calling?”
    “Stone?”
    “Dolce?”
    “I’ve been trying to reach you; the Bel-Air said you had checked out.”
    “I did, an hour ago. I’m staying in the Calders’ guesthouse.”
    “With Arrington?”
    “In the guesthouse. Arrington is in a hospital.”
    “What’s wrong with her?”
    “I don’t think I should go into that on the phone; the press, as you can imagine, is taking an intense interest in all this. I wouldn’t put it past some of the yellower journals to tap the phones.”
    “So you