Stuart Woods - L.A. Dead

Stone walked him to his car. "Thanks for coming," he said.

"Don't worry about a thing," Blumberg said breezily. "I'll get her off."

Stone waved good-bye, then went to his own car. You probably will, he thought, but I hope to God it doesn't come to that.

He went back to his desk, called Dolce again and got the same message. It only made him angrier. He was glad to be having some company tonight.

Stone and Betty sat at a good table at Spago Beverly Hills. "I remember when this was another restaurant," he said. "I had lunch here a couple of times, in the garden."

"I'll give you a little Beverly Hills gossip," Betty said. "You know why the old place failed, after many years as a success?" Tell me.

"The story is, a group of prominent wives were having lunch here, when they overheard the owner make an anti-Semitic remark. They told their friends, their friends told their friends, and within two weeks, the place was empty. It went out of business not long afterward."

"I'll bet you're full of Beverly Hills gossip," Stone said.

"You bet I am."

"Then tell me, was Vance sleeping with Charlene Joiner?"

Betty smiled. "What do you know about Charlene Joiner?"

"Just what I read in the papers during the presidential campaign. She had once had an affair with Will Lee, back when he was first running for the Senate, and the Republicans tried to make something of it."

"Well, let me tell you; Charlene is some piece of work. She has cut a swath through the rich and powerful in this town, and she has done it very cleverly, choosing her partners carefully, as much for their discretion as for what they can do for her career."

"Sounds like a smart girl."

"Smart, and from what I can glean, spectacular in the sack, in a town where outstanding is ordinary."

"But was Vance sleeping with her?"

Betty toyed with her drink.

"I don't think it would be disloyal of you to tell me."

"Yes, I know; Vance is dead, but sometimes I feel as though he's just on location, or something, and that he might walk into the bungalow at any moment."

"If you feel you'd be betraying a confidence, I understand."

"This has something to do with Arrington, doesn't it?" she asked.

"It might, before this is all over. It's important that I know whether this is just a rumor, or if it's true."

Stone looked up to see a lush-looking brunette in her mid-thirties walk up to their table. She was fashionably dressed, coiffed, and made up, and Stone thought her breasts seemed too large for the rest of her.

"Hello, Betty," the woman said, her voice dripping with sympathy. "How are you doing, Sweetie?"

Stone stood up.

"Hi, Beverly," Betty replied. "Oh, Stone, this is Beverly Walters; Beverly, this is Stone Barrington."

"Arrington's friend?" she held out a hand. "She's told me so much about you."

"How do you do?" Stone said.

"How long are you in town for?"

"Not very long," Stone replied.

She fished a card from her handbag and handed it to him. "Call me; maybe I can help."

Stone pocketed the card. "Thank you."

"Betty, I'm so sorry about Vance; I know how close you were."

"Thanks, Beverly," Betty replied, without much enthusiasm.

"Call me, if you want to bend an ear," the woman said. She gave Stone a little wave and walked back to her table.

"Steer clear of her ,"Betty said through clenched teeth.

"She's the source of the rumor I'm trying to confirm," Stone said. "She told the police that Vance was sleeping with Charlene Joiner."

"She doesn't know anything; she's just inventing gossip."

Their dinner arrived.

"Betty, one more time: Was Vance sleeping with her?"

"All right, I'll tell you about Vance. It was his practice to sleep with all his leading ladies, and a lot of those in supporting roles, too."

"Even after he was married?"

"He never wavered. He'd either have them back to the bungalow for lunch or to his trailer. You haven't seen the trailer, have you? It is very comfortable."

" All his leading ladies?"

"You go back and watch any film that Vance starred in, and you may wonder why the love scenes are so convincing. Well, they were convincing, because they had been very well rehearsed."

"And how many pictures did Vance make after he was married?"

Betty counted on her fingers. "Four," she said.

"You think Arrington knew about this?"

"I don't think Vance was shortchanging her, if that's what you mean."

"This Walters woman told police that Arrington had complained to her that Vance had stopped sleeping with her, and that the reason was an affair with Charlene Joiner."

Betty shook her head. "That just doesn't ring true. Vance was a sexual athlete his whole life. He was in superb physical condition, and he loved sex. He could have made a very nice living doing porno movies, because he had both the equipment and the endurance for the work. It's much more likely that Arrington would have complained of too much sex, rather than not enough."

"How do you know about all this?"

"Because I know everything about Vance Calder. I worked for him for fifteen years, and I got the job while in bed with him. I was a script girl on one of his pictures, and we were fucking each other for most of the shoot. Toward the end of the picture, he offered me the job. He told me, quite frankly, that our little affair was going to end with the wrap, and I knew he was telling the truth. I took the job, because it was better than the one I had, and we didn't make love again. But he never kept secrets from me. Maybe that's why he left me the million dollars-because he knew I could make that much writing a tell-all book. I could, too."

"I'll bet you could."

"So, now you know what you want to know?"

"I do."

"Now you tell me something," she said.

"Anything."

"The last time you were in L.A., you and I had a rather delicious time together."

"We certainly did."

"Why do I get the feeling that isn't going to happen this time?"

"Things have changed," Stone said. He told her about Dolce and why he had been in Venice.

Betty nodded. "I understand," she said. "I don't like it much, but I understand."

"Thank you for not liking it," Stone replied.

Stone slipped into the estate through the utility entrance, parked his car in back and walked to the guest house. He got out of yesterdays clothes, slipped into a robe, called Manolo, and ordered breakfast. As soon as he set down the phone, it rang.

"Hello?"

"Stone?" It was Arrington, and she sounded agitated. "I've been trying to reach you since last night-where have you been?"

"Right here," he lied. "I was tired, so I unhooked the phone. I just plugged it in again so I could order breakfast. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling very well, thank you. The doctor says I can leave this morning. He wants to check me over once more, but I should be ready to go by ten. Will you come and get me, please?"

"Of course. I'll be there at ten sharp."

"Oh, good. Will you bring me some clothes? Ask Isabel, the maid, to put together an outfit-slacks and a blouse, shoes, stockings, and underwear. They brought me here practically naked, and I don't have anything to wear."

"Sure. I'll call Isabel, and I'll see you there at ten." He started to tell her he was moving out of the house, but he thought it might be best to wait until he saw her.

"See you then, darling," she said and hung up. Stone called the maid and asked her to put the clothing into his car, then, as he promised he would, he called Sam Durkee at Brentwood station.

"Durkee."