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“I suppose we’re going to have to start billing our clients through Woodman amp; Weld,” he said.
“I wondered about that,” she said.
“It’s a small price to pay.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“With any luck I’ll be home Saturday or Sunday, depending on how things go here.” They said goodbye and hung up.
It was nearly lunchtime on Thursday when Ed Eagle called. “Hey, Stone.”
“Good morning, Ed.”
“Thanks for the DNA sample. SFPD is working on it. I think they had to send it away for testing, but they don’t want to admit it.”
“When will we know?”
“A day or two, they say. The D.A. here is about to jump out of his skin; he really wants an arrest in this case. I hope she’s not showing any signs of doing a runner.”
“None at all. There’s going to be a meeting here tomorrow morning that she doesn’t want to miss.” Stone brought Ed up to date on the Bel-Air land deal.
“Well, if the hotel gets built, put me down for a regular suite,” Eagle said. “I seem to be trying more and more cases out there.”
Stone had barely hung up when Carolyn Blaine called, sounding frazzled.
“What’s wrong?” Stone asked.
“I’m worried,” she said. “I’ve been at the office with Terry the past couple of days, and while he’s playing his cards close, I get the idea that the Colombian and the Mexican are back in the picture. What I think is happening is that they’re horning in on the Calder property deal to get their investment in Centurion back from Terry. They’re scrambling around assembling cash from various sources, so that Terry can have a cashier’s check ready for tomorrow.”
“I thought he wanted to keep that deal for himself.”
“He may not have a choice,” she said. “If that happens, it will blow Eleanor’s participation out of the water, but I’ll still get to do the development work.”
“Swell,” Stone said. If you aren’t in a New Mexico jail, he thought.
“I’ll keep you posted; otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” She hung up.
“Now what?” Dino asked, looking over his newspaper.
Stone sighed. “I just may have put Arrington in business with two drug cartels. That’s who Terry Prince is raising his money from.”
Dino shook his head and ducked back behind his paper.
Stone’s phone went off. “Hello?”
“It’s Mike Freeman.”
“How are you, Mike?”
“I’m okay, and I’ve been talking to people about Arrington’s property. One of my clients is the majority stockholder in a worldwide hotel group, and I think he’d be a perfect partner in the deal.”
“That’s great, Mike, but we have a problem: it looks like Prince may be
able to close tomorrow, and the source of his funds is two drug cartels, one Colombian, one Mexican.” He read the names from his notebook. “Word is, they’re assembling cash from what was called ‘various sources’ as we speak.”
“Do you know what account they’re using in L.A.?”
“I assume it’s Prince’s personal account at Wells Fargo, in his office building, because that’s where the first payment came from.”
