44
Stone ignored the questions that were shouted at him as he crept forwards in his car, making his way through the crowd of reporters and journalists camped outside the Keating residence. He was relieved to leave the circus behind once through the gates, and he headed up the drive to park by the police cars near the garage.
Getting out, he made his way around to the kitchen; he could have rung the bell and waited to be let in through the front door by Chambers, but chose not to, he didn’t want to give the press either an excuse or an opportunity to take pictures, and he knew they would if the front door opened – they would take pictures of anything, even a servant, in case they caught a glimpse of something worth publishing.
“Evening.” Stone helped himself to a mug of coffee from the h
