Read Online Two Dollar Bill by Stuart Woods - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stuart Woods
Ads: Link
violate attorney-client confidentiality. I've got a meeting; let's have dinner. Eggers hung up.
Stone resisted a very strong urge to rip the phone from its connection and bang it repeatedly against the wall. Calming himself, he found the slip of paper on which he had written Billy Bob's phone numbers and dialed his home. A woman answered.
Good morning, the Barnstormer residence.
May I speak with Mr. Barnstormer, please; it's Stone Barrington calling.
I'm sorry, but Mr. Barnstormer is traveling today.
Stone consulted the paper for the GIV's number and found it not present. May I have the phone number for his airplane?
I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to give out that number. I should be speaking with Mr. Barnstormer later today; can I tell him you called?
Please. He has the number. Stone thanked her and hung up. He buzzed Joan.
Yes?
Joan, have you already deposited Billy Bob's retainer check?
Sure, I told you that. We'd have had to sell stock without it.
Thanks. He hung up and fumed for a moment, then he dug out Warren Buffett's card and called his Omaha office.
Good morning, Berkshire Hathaway, a woman said.
Stone was about to speak but he stopped himself. He was sure that the voice he was hearing from Omaha was the same voice he had heard at Billy Bob's home in Dallas. He hung up and looked at the area code on Buffett's card: 402. He got out a phone book and looked up the area code for Omaha: 402. He looked up the area code for Dallas; there were three, one of them 469, same as Billy Bob's. But the same woman was answering both phones. He called Omaha information and asked for a number for Berkshire Hathaway. He was given a number different from the one on Warren Buffett's card. He dialed the number, and a woman answered.
Good morning, Berkshire Hathaway. Different voice, different accent.
Good morning, can you tell me if this is the only number listed for Berkshire Hathaway?
It's the only one in Omaha, she said.
Thank you. He hung up and looked at the Warren Buffett card. This Buffet was spelled with one t.
Stone reached for the phone to call Dino, then stopped. He couldn't give the police unfavorable information about his client. Not that he had a hell of a lot of information about his client. He turned to his computer, went online and did a Google search for Billy Bob Barnstormer. He got a lot of aviation hits, and to his surprise, learned that quite a number of people were actually named Barnstormer. He got two hits on a Billy Bob, both of them on Web sites that reported society news in New York, both of them referring to Billy Bob's presence at the Woodman & Weld party, one of them featuring the photograph with the mayor. Nothing before that date. Apparently, Billy Bob Barnstormer had not existed before that, at least on the Internet.
He did another search, this time for addresses and phone numbers. That service had never heard of anybody named Barnstormer. He tried Barnstetter and got the same result.
Stone sat at the computer, thinking hard. Then a tiny lightbulb went on in his brain, accompanied by a sinking feeling. He went back to Google and typed in Rodney Peeples. To his astonishment, he got three thousand, four hundred and twenty-two hits. For the next hour he scrolled laboriously through them and found two that mattered: a Web site for a used-car dealer in San Mateo, California, and another for a firm of certified public accountants in Enid, Oklahoma. The used-car Web site had photographs of the California Peeples standing in his car lot, a flashy girl on each arm. The man had a big mustache and sideburns, but he was, without doubt, Billy Bob Barnstormer. On the Web site of Peeples & Strange, accountants, he found photographs of the partners. This time he wore a conservative suit, button-down shirt and wire-rimmed spectacles, but he was, nevertheless, Billy Bob.
So Billy Bob, in addition to being a Texas entrepreneur, was also a flamboyant used-car dealer in San Mateo, California, and a nerdy CPA
Stone resisted a very strong urge to rip the phone from its connection and bang it repeatedly against the wall. Calming himself, he found the slip of paper on which he had written Billy Bob's phone numbers and dialed his home. A woman answered.
Good morning, the Barnstormer residence.
May I speak with Mr. Barnstormer, please; it's Stone Barrington calling.
I'm sorry, but Mr. Barnstormer is traveling today.
Stone consulted the paper for the GIV's number and found it not present. May I have the phone number for his airplane?
I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to give out that number. I should be speaking with Mr. Barnstormer later today; can I tell him you called?
Please. He has the number. Stone thanked her and hung up. He buzzed Joan.
Yes?
Joan, have you already deposited Billy Bob's retainer check?
Sure, I told you that. We'd have had to sell stock without it.
Thanks. He hung up and fumed for a moment, then he dug out Warren Buffett's card and called his Omaha office.
Good morning, Berkshire Hathaway, a woman said.
Stone was about to speak but he stopped himself. He was sure that the voice he was hearing from Omaha was the same voice he had heard at Billy Bob's home in Dallas. He hung up and looked at the area code on Buffett's card: 402. He got out a phone book and looked up the area code for Omaha: 402. He looked up the area code for Dallas; there were three, one of them 469, same as Billy Bob's. But the same woman was answering both phones. He called Omaha information and asked for a number for Berkshire Hathaway. He was given a number different from the one on Warren Buffett's card. He dialed the number, and a woman answered.
Good morning, Berkshire Hathaway. Different voice, different accent.
Good morning, can you tell me if this is the only number listed for Berkshire Hathaway?
It's the only one in Omaha, she said.
Thank you. He hung up and looked at the Warren Buffett card. This Buffet was spelled with one t.
Stone reached for the phone to call Dino, then stopped. He couldn't give the police unfavorable information about his client. Not that he had a hell of a lot of information about his client. He turned to his computer, went online and did a Google search for Billy Bob Barnstormer. He got a lot of aviation hits, and to his surprise, learned that quite a number of people were actually named Barnstormer. He got two hits on a Billy Bob, both of them on Web sites that reported society news in New York, both of them referring to Billy Bob's presence at the Woodman & Weld party, one of them featuring the photograph with the mayor. Nothing before that date. Apparently, Billy Bob Barnstormer had not existed before that, at least on the Internet.
He did another search, this time for addresses and phone numbers. That service had never heard of anybody named Barnstormer. He tried Barnstetter and got the same result.
Stone sat at the computer, thinking hard. Then a tiny lightbulb went on in his brain, accompanied by a sinking feeling. He went back to Google and typed in Rodney Peeples. To his astonishment, he got three thousand, four hundred and twenty-two hits. For the next hour he scrolled laboriously through them and found two that mattered: a Web site for a used-car dealer in San Mateo, California, and another for a firm of certified public accountants in Enid, Oklahoma. The used-car Web site had photographs of the California Peeples standing in his car lot, a flashy girl on each arm. The man had a big mustache and sideburns, but he was, without doubt, Billy Bob Barnstormer. On the Web site of Peeples & Strange, accountants, he found photographs of the partners. This time he wore a conservative suit, button-down shirt and wire-rimmed spectacles, but he was, nevertheless, Billy Bob.
So Billy Bob, in addition to being a Texas entrepreneur, was also a flamboyant used-car dealer in San Mateo, California, and a nerdy CPA
Similar Books
