—

When they were back in the suite, Hedy turned her back. “Will you unzip me, please?”

“It’s one of the things I do best,” Stone replied, unzipping the dress and kissing her on the shoulder.

“Do I have to sleep in the guest room tonight?”

“You will be most welcome in the master suite.”

“I’ll be with you shortly.”

Stone filled out the breakfast card, hung it on the doorknob, and was already in bed when Hedy slipped in beside him and cuddled close. She was tall and slim, and they fit well together.

“Sorry about your virtue,” Stone said, turning toward her.

“That’s all right, I can always get it back later,” she said.

—

The following morning they were awakened by the doorbell. Stone got into a robe and let room service wheel the tray into the bedroom. He signed the check and sent the waiter on his way. “May I serve you?” he asked Hedy.

“What a good idea,” she said, rearranging the pillows. “What are we having?”

“Eggs Benedict.”

“Good choice.”

“When is your apartment available?”

“I spoke to the agent. I can get in tomorrow.”

“Do you have to?”

“Not necessarily. What did you have in mind?”

“The weather forecast is good. Why don’t we rent a car and drive down to Positano, on the Amalfi Coast, for a couple of days? Have you ever been there?”

“No, what’s it like?”

“It’s better if you experience it, instead of my attempting to describe it. Do you have enough clothes?”

“What will I need?”

“Only a bikini.”

She laughed. “I don’t think I can dine in a bikini, but I should be able to get by on what I have in my carry-on. What about you?”

“My luggage should be delivered this morning. We can head south after lunch.”

“Sounds good.”

They made love again after breakfast, then Stone’s luggage arrived, and he unpacked, then packed again for Positano.

The phone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Marcel. Good morning.”

“And to you, as well. How did you do with the architects?”

“We’re in good shape there. They’re doing a quick review of the lower floors, and we’ll be ready to start in a week. The construction company is on hold.”

“I thought I would rent a car and go down to Positano for a couple of days. Can you proceed without me?”

“Of course, and I’ll lend you a car—no need to rent. When would you like it?”

“One o’clock?”

“The Hassler doorman will have it for you.”

They said goodbye and hung up. Stone called the concierge and asked him to book them into Le Sirenuse, in Positano, then he arranged to cash a check for three thousand euros at the front desk. Stone put a thousand into his pocket and the rest into his briefcase, along with his passport, international driving license and checkbook, laptop, and a spare wristwatch.

At one o’clock they and their luggage were loaded into a Mercedes S550, courtesy of Marcel. The bags went into the trunk, and Stone put his briefcase on the rear floor behind the driver’s seat, so that he would have ready access to it. He loaded the address of their Positano hotel into the GPS, and they drove away on schedule.

They left the city and got onto the autostrada, headed south. The weather was sunny and warm, and traffic moved freely.

“Where do you live in New York?” Stone asked.

“I have a loft in SoHo. I live and work there. Do you know the area?”

“Sort of. I get a nosebleed if I go below Forty-second Street, so I don’t hang out downtown.”

“Where do you live?”

“In Turtle Bay. Do you know it?”

“I once went to see Katharine Hepburn there,” she said. “I was supposed to paint her for Vanity Fair, but she didn’t like my preliminary sketches, and they replaced me with Annie Leibovitz. Ms. Hepburn preferred photographs. Nice neighborhood, though.”

“Ms. Hepburn was a neighbor, sort of. I didn’t know her, but I saw her come and go sometimes.”

They were somewhere east of Naples when Hedy expressed an interest in a pit stop. Stone pulled into an autostrada service area, and they both went inside. He used the men’s, then got a cup of coffee and went outside to meet her. As they walked across the parking lot, Stone stopped in his tracks.

“What is it?” she asked.

Stone pointed ahead of them. “Our car is gone.”

6

Maybe he had made a mistake, he thought. He looked over the whole parking lot: there was no black Mercedes S550 parked there.

“Are you sure?” Hedy asked. “Maybe we parked on the other side.”

“It was right there,” he said, pointing.

“Oh, I remember—a truck pulled in next to us as we were getting out of the car.”

“There’s no truck there, either.”

“Uh, Stone, my handbag was in the car.”

“What was in it?”

“Everything. Passport, money, iPhone—absolutely everything.”

“That pretty much covers it for me, too. Plus half my clothes.”

“We should call the police,” she said.

“Great idea. Do you know how to call the police in Italy?”

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then we’d better ask somebody for help.”

“Another great idea. How’s your Italian?”

“Where are we?”

“I have no idea,” Stone said. “And I wouldn’t know how to tell the police to find us. I don’t even know the name of this service area. All I know is, it’s somewhere east of Naples.”

“Do you have any money? All mine was in my bag, and my credit cards, too.”

“I’ve got a thousand euros in my pocket and my credit cards. Come on.” He led her back inside the service stop and went into the shop. He found a map of Italy, took it to the cashier, and bought it. “Do you speak English?” he asked the cashier.

“Little bit.”

Stone opened the map. “Where are we?”

She looked at the map and pointed. “Here,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Stone took his iPhone from its holster.

“Who are you calling?” Hedy asked.

“American Express.” He dialed the number on the back of his credit card and pressed the number on the menu for concierge. He gave them his name and card number.

“How may we help you, Mr. Barrington?”

Stone gave her the name of the service area. “My car has been stolen. I need a car and driver as soon as possible to drive us to Positano.”

“I’m so sorry for your trouble,” the woman said. “Please hold for a moment.”

Stone held.

“You don’t want to go back to Rome?” Hedy asked.

“Do you? I think Positano will be more fun. In the circumstances.”

“How will we get back to Rome?”

“We’ll rent a car.”

“But we don’t have any clothes.”

“There are many shops in Positano and Amalfi.”

After about ten minutes, American Express came back on. “Mr. Barrington, I have a car and driver for you. What is your destination in Positano?”

“Le Sirenuse, a hotel.”

“The car will be there in approximately forty-five minutes,” she said.

“We’ll be in the restaurant.”

“The car is a Lancia sedan, and the driver’s name is Fabrioso. Everything will be charged to your Centurion card.”

“Thank you very much.” He hung up. “Forty-five minutes. Let’s get some lunch.”

They got a hot lunch in the cafeteria and sat down. Stone called Joan and told her what had happened. “Call my insurance company,” he said, “and make a claim.” He dictated a list of his things in the car, then turned to Hedy. “Give me a list of your possessions,” he said. “As much as you can remember.” She did so.

“They’re going to want a police report,” Joan said.

“I’ll deal with that later,” he said. “Thanks for your help, Joan.”