Page 14 of Stuart Woods' Smolder

“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll come down to your office.”

“You have ten.” Petry hung up.

Nico read through the reports and grinned. While he’d been sleeping, the beginnings of an idea, spurred by that article about Barrington’s mother, had come to him. Now here, in the reports, was more info that made the idea even more attractive. Petry wasn’t quite as imaginative, however, so Nico knew he had to finesse his presentation, give his boss something he’d be expecting, then tempt him with a more interesting—not to mention easier to manage—solution. Nico made a few quick notes and arrived at Petry’s office two minutes early.

“Tell me you found a way we can hurt him.”

“I have. He has family.”

The corner of Petry’s mouth arched into a sneer. “Yeah, that’s good. What does he have? A wife or something?”

“No, he’s a widower. But he does have a son and daughter-in-law in Los Angeles. Have you ever heard of Peter Barrington?”

“Should I have?”

“Desperation at Dawn?”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“It’s a movie. It won an Oscar for Best Picture not long ago.”

“So?”

“So Peter Barrington directed it. He’s a pretty big deal in Hollywood. His wife won an Oscar herself, for the music.”

“Can we get to them?”

“Probably.”

“Why do I sense abutthere?”

“Being high profile means doing so wouldn’t be easy, and we would risk opening ourselves up to possible exposure. Which you said you wanted to avoid.”

Petry narrowed his eyes. “Then why are you even proposing this?”

“I’m not. I just wanted you to know I looked into the possibility. But I have a much better idea that will hurt just as much, be easier to implement quickly, and will keep our hands clean.”

“I’m listening.”

“Barrington’s mother was Matilda Stone.”

“Was? As in she’s dead?”

“She is, but—”

“How does a dead woman help me break that son of a bitch?”

“Hear me out. She’s a well-known artist, and even has a few paintings in prominent museums.”

“Good for her. But again, how does this help?”

“Barrington reveres her work so much that he has several in his house and is apparently keen on getting his hands on as many others as possible. He’s notified several galleries to be on the lookout for them. There was one article that called him the steward of her legacy.”

Petry’s patience began to slip again. “So the dead woman’s a big shot. And? I mean, if there’s a plan here, I’m not getting it.”

“Thepaintings,” Nico said, trying hard not to make it sound as obvious as it should have been. “All we need to do is have some people break into his house and destroy as many of them as they can. Each painting will be a piece of his mother he cannever get back. Think of it as sticking multiple knives into his heart.”

There was a brief moment when Nico thought his boss was going to read him the riot act for presenting such a stupid idea, but then a grin spread across Petry’s face. “Look at you, Mr. Thinking-Outside-the-Box. You are one devious bastard. I don’t know how you came up with that, but…I love it.”

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