Carnal Curiosity - Stuart Woods Page 0,52

early and skipped around the morning shows for comments on the debate.

“Perfect,” Ann said. “This weekend, things change.”

“What happens this weekend?” Stone asked.

“There is a very large piece on Stanton’s personal history coming in the Times, with particular attention to his conduct in La Jolla. It should be fun.”

“Spend the weekend with me.”

“I’d like that, but I’ll be on the phone a lot.”

“I’ll entertain you while you’re talking.”

“Oh, no, I have to sound serious, and I can’t do that while being ‘entertained,’ as you put it.”

“I’ll save myself for the evenings,” Stone said. “I’ll be out in the afternoon, anyway, Dino and I.”

“Then I’ll hold the fort here.”

42

After Ann had left the house, Stone called Bob Cantor. Bob, in addition to being his go-to guy for tech work, was a PI, and a good one.

“Get your security system fixed?” Bob asked.

“Yes, and with new backups and a new monitoring service.”

“Something wrong with the monitoring service?”

“Yes, it’s now owned by the wrong guy, and when the alarm went off, everything stopped at their office—never got to the police.”

“I’ve got a dozen or more clients using that service,” Bob said.

“You might want to rethink that.”

“Right.”

“Bob, I’ve got something else for you, if you have some time today.”

“I’ll make time for you, Stone.”

“Thank you. After the paintings were stolen I got word that someone was trying to sell one of them. Her name is Anita Mays, and she has some sort of shop or gallery on Barrow Street, in the Village. I’ve got a noon date with her tomorrow to look at other things, and I hope she might come up with some more of my pictures.”

“Okay, got that.”

“Before tomorrow, I want to know everything I can about her. I Googled her, but there wasn’t much. I get the impression that she flies under the radar.”

“Okay, I’ll make a run at her, starting this morning.”

“Be careful, if you visit her neighborhood. I don’t want the neighbors warning her that someone is asking questions.”

“Okay.”

“If you visit her shop, you might buy something, just to seem genuine.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll see something I like.”

“If you do, it’s on me.”

“I’ll get back to you late this afternoon and let you know what I’ve found out.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” The two men hung up.

—

Bob Cantor equipped himself with a notebook and a pen and some cash, then, since he lived not too far from Barrow Street, got out his bicycle and rode down there. He turned into the street and rode slowly past Anita Mays’s shop, then farther down the block. Finally, he stopped and locked his bike to a utility pole, using a heavy chain as padlock. It was all too easy to lose an expensive bicycle in New York.

He started at the opposite end of the street from Mays’s shop and did some window-shopping, then went into a gallery and bought an old watercolor of Barrow Street, probably from the thirties. The picture was wrapped and put into a shopping bag from Barneys, which served as camouflage for Bob as he wandered among the other shops.

He made stops in two others and in each, after he had bought something, asked for recommendations of other neighborhood places.

“You might try Anita’s shop, down the end of the street,” a woman told him. “She gets interesting things.” She paused. “If you’re not too choosy about where they come from. She’s got a boyfriend who comes home with a lot of stuff on a regular basis.”

Bob nodded sagely. “Thanks a lot.” He continued up the street, not missing a shop, until he came to Anita’s Artfest. The shop was at stoop level, and he climbed the steps to get a better look in the window. It was crammed with tchotchkes, clocks, pictures, small statuary, old wristwatches, and jewelry. Then, down at the end of the window, Bob spotted something familiar. He went to the door and found a card hung on the knob. Back in a minute, it read. He sat down on the steps and waited.

Five minutes later he saw her coming down the street with a bag of groceries: fairly tall, slim, dark hair, wearing tight leather trousers and filling out a sweater very nicely. She started up the stairs.

“Morning,” he said.

“Hi. Something on your mind?” She seemed wary.

“There’s a Rolex in your window I’d like to see.” He got up and pointed at the watch. “Oh, and could I have a look at that picture on the far right?”

“Okay,” she said. She unlocked