Stuart Woods - Swimming To Catalina

“Stone, I’m sorry you came; I just can’t tell you anything,” he said, standing in the doorway.

Stone brushed past him. “Let’s go into your study, shall we?”

Vance followed him through the living room. “I really can’t talk; I just wish you’d take my word for it.”

Stone went into the study and settled into a comfortable chair, pointing at one for Vance.

Vance sat down on the edge of the chair and looked at the floor.

“You’ve got to let me help you, Vance.”

The actor shook his head. “I can’t; I’m sorry.”

“Are they threatening to harm Arrington?”

Vance looked up. “I’m talking to her every day; she’s fine.”

“And what does she say, Vance? ‘Get me out of here? Take me home? Protect me?’”

Vance winced. “It’s just awful,” he said. “I’ve agreed to what they want, but it’s going to take a few days to set it up, before Arrington can come home.”

“What do they want?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“David Sturmack was just here; he must be deeply involved.”

“I didn’t say that, you did,” Vance said, looking alarmed.

“And Lou Regenstein.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He wanted to ask who the red-haired man was who had been in his study the night before. “And Ippolito.”

“Stone, please stop it; I can’t tell you any more. You just can’t imagine what’s at stake.”

“I think I can; Arrington’s life and that of her baby are at stake.”

“Is that what this is about? The baby?”

“Certainly, that’s part of it; that’s what you used as bait to get me out here.”

“Stone, I’m terribly sorry I asked you to come. When…the situation changed, I tried to make it profitable for you to have made the trip.”

“I cannot describe the trip as profitable,” Stone said.

“What is it you want, personally?”

“I want Arrington to be free to…come home or do whatever she wants to do.”

“Like go back to you?”

“Do you think that’s what she wants?”

“I don’t know what she wants; we can’t talk about that in our phone conversations.”

“Vance, I am not going to walk away from this, and you’d better get used to the idea.” There had been no mention of Arrington’s car; perhaps Vance hadn’t been in the garage yet.

“Stone, if they find out that you’re not back in New York, they’ll…there’s no telling what they’ll do.”

“They know I’m not in New York.”

“What?” Vance asked, alarmed.

“They think I’m dead.”

“Dead?” he asked weakly.

“Did you go to a dinner party on Ippolito’s yacht at Catalina a few nights ago?”

“I was invited but I didn’t go.”

“I was invited and didn’t go, either. On the way to the party, I got dumped into the Pacific with my hands and feet bound and an anchor shackled to me.”

Vance’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe it,” he said. “They wouldn’t do something like that to…”

“They’ve been threatening to do it to Arrington, haven’t they? Why wouldn’t they do it to me?”

Vance buried his face in his hands. “Oh, shit, shit, shit. I’m so sorry, Stone; I never meant for something like that to happen to you, and it’s my fault.”

“How so?”

“I told them you were at the Bel-Air.”

“And how did you know?” Stone asked, knowing the answer.

“Betty told me.”

“She told you not them?”

“Yes. She doesn’t know who’s involved; she doesn’t know anything about this, except what she might imagine. She told me because she would never hide anything from me.”

“I’m glad to hear she didn’t tell Ippolito,” Stone said, and he was. He felt better about Betty now.

“Betty would never do anything to harm you,” Vance said. “I think she’s half in love with you.”

“You’re very lucky to have her,” Stone said, reflecting that Vance seemed to have the women he wanted.

“I certainly am.”

“Vance, if you will trust me enough to tell me what’s going on, I can help, I’m sure I can.”

Vance looked at him, his jaw set. “Stone, if I could, I would; but I can’t doanything that might have even the slightest chance of harming Arrington.”

Stone nodded. “Then I guess I’d better be going.”

Vance walked him to the door. “I hope I can tell you all about this someday, when it’s over.”

“Vance, are you going to tell Ippolito I was here, that I’m alive?”

“No. I swear to God I won’t.”

Stone shook his hand and left. He hoped the actor wasn’t lying.

Stone walked into the Beverly Hills branch of the Safe Harbor Bank and asked to see the branch manager. Shortly he was seated at the man’s desk. “Welcome back, Mr. Barrington,” Marshall said. “I hope you’ve come to open an account with us.”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Marshall; I’ve just come to cash the cashier’s check you arranged for me on my last visit.”

“Of course.”

Stone took the check from his inside pocket and handed it over. “I’m afraid it’s a little worse for the wear; I had a boating accident.”

Marshall inspected the check closely. “Yes, it is a bit worn, isn’t it? Still, I can make out the check number and what’s left of my signature. Of course we’ll cash it; how would you like the money?”

“In hundreds, please.”

Marshall was no longer looking at Stone, but over his shoulder.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Ippolito,” he said, “Would you excuse me for just a moment?” he said to Stone. Marshall walked past his desk toward the door of his office.

Stone froze in his seat; he could hear the voices both men from behind him.

“What brings you to see us?” Marshall asked.

“I was in the neighborhood, and I just thought I’d drop in,” Ippolito said.

“I’m just cashing a check for a customer,” Marshall said. “If you’ll wait just a moment my office will be free, and we can talk, if you like.”

“No, no,” Ippolito said. “I really was just in the neighborhood. I do want to compliment you, though, on the very nice increase in new accounts.”

“We’ve been working hard on that,” Marshall said.

“Well, I’ll be off, then; you get back to your customer.”

“Good to see you again, Mr. Ippolito.” Marshall returned to his desk. “That was our chairman,” he said to Stone. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced you.”

“That’s quite all right,” Stone said, dabbing at his damp forehead with a handkerchief “If you don’t mind, I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“Of course; I’ll be right back with your money.”

Stone allowed himself to look over his shoulder. Ippolito was still in the bank, shaking hands with a man just inside the front door.

Marshall returned with Stone’s fifteen thousand dollars and handed him an envelope. “Be sure and count it.”

“Thank you,” Stone said, standing up. “That won’t be necessary.” He shook hands with Marshall and looked over his shoulder again before he turned around Ippolito had left the bank.

Stone walked quickly to the window and peered into the street. A familiar gray Lincoln Town Car was pulling away from the curb. He ran for his own car, got it started, and followed, staying well back. He had nothing pressing to do; he might as well see where Ippolito was going.

He followed the Lincoln to Santa Monica Boulevard, then nearly all the way to the beach. To Stone’s surprise, the car stopped at Grimaldi’s. He looked at his watch: half past three, a little late for lunch. He parked half a block away and watched Ippolito get out of the car and go into the restaurant.