Barton handed her his list and waited while she read it. When she had finished, he said, “Mildred, I will offer you eighteen million dollars for everything on the list, and payments of eight hundred thousand dollars a year.”
Without hesitating, Mildred said, “Make it twenty million and a million a year; I’m fond of round numbers. Shall I call my lawyer?”
“Done, Mildred. Call him.”
The man, apparently alerted, appeared ten minutes later, and Mildred introduced him as Creighton Adams. Stone gave him a copy of the proposed contract, with the blanks filled in, and Barton gave him the list.
“Mrs. Strong,” the man said when he had read everything, “I see no problems with the contract. Are you satisfied with the numbers in it?”
“I am,” she said. “Oh, I know Barton will make a lot of money on the deal – eventually – but I admire his patience and his fortitude to take such a leap. Type it up.”
“I’ll have everything done by nine tomorrow morning,” he said,
“including a codicil to your will, acknowledging the arrangement and instructing your executors.”
Mildred saw him to the door and returned. “I have a dinner invitation this evening,” she said. “Would you two like me to have something prepared for you here, or would you prefer to go out?”
“Thank you, Mildred. I think we’ll go out,” Barton said.
“Then I’ll see you at nine tomorrow morning. I will probably sleep through breakfast.” She excused herself and went upstairs.
“I’ll take you to dinner, Stone,” Barton said. “We’ll celebrate.”
They dined at the Black Pearl, in Newport, ordering steaks and, eventually, two bottles of Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame.
“This,” Stone said, tapping the bottle, “is Carla’s favorite, if you don’t already know.”
“I’m happy to have that information,” Barton said. “By the way, bill me for your time at your usual hourly rate; I know this work hasn’t been in your regular line, but you did it well.”
“It was instructive,” Stone said.
At nine o’clock the following morning Creighton Adams arrived with a notary and two associates for witnesses to the codicil. Both Mildred and Barton read the contract and the list, and both signed.
Barton took a checkbook from his pocket and wrote a check for a million dollars. “And another on this date each y
ear,” he said, handing it to Mildred.
“Thank you, Barton, you have made this experience very pleasant.”
Her lawyer and his entourage rose to go, but Mildred waved them back to their seats. “Stay,” she said, “there’s something else I’d like to discuss with you.”
Barton and Stone made their good-byes.
“You’ve been very kind to us,” Stone said, shaking her hand.
“I would like very much to see you again, Stone,” Mildred replied. “You were excellent company.”
As Stone drove back to New York, he reflected that he had never spoken so little in two days. He reckoned that was what had made him such good company.
But, he remembered, he and Barton still did not know why Charlie Crow had visited Mildred Strong and what had transpired at their meeting.
45
Stone was halfway home before he thought of it. He called Bob Cantor.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Stone. Can you still get into people’s bank accounts?”