Stuart Woods - L.A. Dead

"Morning, Sam. It's Stone Barrington."

"Oh, yeah."

"You asked me to let you know when Mrs. Calder was leaving the clinic; it's this morning." He paused for a moment, native caution coming into play. "At ten-thirty."

"Hey, Ted," Durkee called out, "Vance Calder's widow is getting out at ten-thirty." His voice returned to the receiver. "Thanks for letting us know," he said.

"Do you need to speak with her again?" Stone asked.

"Not at the moment."

"If you do, call me at Centurion Studios, and I'll arrange it. The operator there will find me."

"Sure thing."

"Good-bye." Stone hung up, wishing he hadn't called Durkee; he had a funny feeling about this.

At nine-fifteen, as Stone was finishing breakfast, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Stone? It's Jim Judson, at the clinic."

"Morning, Jim; is Arrington still going to be ready to leave at ten?"

"I'm not sure if you'll want her to," Judson replied. "As we speak, the press is gathering outside. There are three television vans with satellite dishes, and at least a dozen reporters."

"Ah," Stone said, once again regretting his call to Durkee. "I think this calls for a change in plans."

"I thought you might think so."

"Is there another way out of the building besides the front door?"

"We have a small parking lot for staff at the west end of the building.

You enter it from near the front door, but the exit is around the corner. From my office, I can see media people staking that out, too, but only a handful of them."

Stone had a look at his street map of Beverly Hills. "All right, here's what we do," Stone said. "Can you find a nurse's uniform that will fit Arrington?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Get her dressed in the uniform, cap and all, and borrow a car- the older and more modest, the better-from one of your staff. Have Arrington walk out to the parking lot, get into the car, and leave by the side street exit. Have her turn left, then take her first right. I'll be waiting there. She'll leave the borrowed car there for you to pick up."

"All right. When do you want her to leave the building?"

Stone looked at his watch. "Half an hour?"

"Fine."

"How is she this morning?"

"She's all right, but you might still find her a little fragile. She still hasn't remembered anything between her hair appointment the day before the murder and waking up here the day after."

"Thanks, Jim; I'll speak to you later, if I have any questions." Stone hung up, then checked his map again. He'd have to pass a comer near the clinic to position himself where he wanted to be; he hoped his car would be anonymous enough. He called Manolo. "I'd like to take the station wagon today," he said.

"Of course, Mr. Barrington; I'll have Isabel put the clothes in that car. The keys are in it."

Stone drove out the utility exit and made his way toward the Judson Clinic. He had to stop at a traffic light on the corner half a block from the clinic, and as he waited, Sam Durkee and Ted Bryant drove past him on the cross street, toward the clinic. "You sons of bitches," Stone muttered. The light changed and he drove straight ahead, past the exit from the employees' parking lot, which a small group of reporters had staked out. He turned right at the next corner and pulled over, leaving the engine running.

Ten minutes passed, and, right on time, Arrington appeared, driving an elderly Honda. She parked the car, ran over to the Mercedes station wagon, and got in. "Thank you for getting me out of there, Stone," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Stone pulled out of his parking space. "Your clothes are in the backseat. Did anybody recognize you?"

"Nope; they hardly gave me a glance. I wasn't what they were expecting, I guess." She began undressing.

Stone tried to keep his eyes straight ahead and failed. "I don't think we should go to the Bel-Air house," he said.

"Shall we just check into a motel, then?" she suggested.

"How about the Malibu house?"

"I don't have a key with me."

"Betty gave me one; I was going to move out there today."

"All right, let's go to Malibu; I have clothes and everything I need out there, except maybe some groceries."

Stone made his way to the freeway, then got off at Santa Monica Boulevard and drove toward the ocean. Soon, they were on the Pacific Coast Highway.

"God!" Arrington exclaimed. "It feels so good to be out of that place."

"Seemed like a very nice place," Stone said.

"Oh, it is, and they were wonderful to me, but I still felt like a prisoner. Now I feel free again!" She turned to him. "Why were you going to move to the Malibu house? Weren't you comfortable in Bel-Air?"

"Oh, yes, and Manolo was taking very good care of me. But, at the moment, it's important that you and I not be living under the same roof."

"Why not?"

"You're going to be under a lot of scrutiny for a while, and having an old boyfriend living at your house would give the press just a little too much to write about."

"I suppose you're right," she said. "God, but I hate living under a microscope. How long is this going to go on?"

"Weeks, maybe months. If the police find Vance's killer, that will help it go away. How is Peter?"

"He's wonderful; we talked this morning, and he's having a great time in Virginia; Mother keeps horses, and she has a pony for him. I want him to stay there until this is over."

"That's a good idea, I think."

"Drive straight through the town," she said. "The house is in the Malibu Colony, just past the little business district."

Stone followed her instructions, and turned through a gate, where they were stopped by a security guard.

"It's me, Steve," she said to the man.

"Welcome back, Mrs. Calder," he replied.

"If anybody asks, I'm not here," she said. "This is Mr. Barrington; he'll be coming and going."

"I'll put his name on the list."

Stone followed Arrington's directions to the house, a large, stone and cedar contemporary on the beach. He gave her the key, and she opened the door and punched in the security code. He made a note of the code.

Stone went to the phone and called Betty.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"I've taken Arrington to the Malibu house; there was a mob of press at the clinic."

"The police have called here twice."

"Guy named Durkee?"

"That's right."

"If he calls again, tell him you haven't heard from me today."

"All right; are you coming in at all?"

"Maybe later." He gave her his cellphone number. "You can reach me there in an emergency. If you call here, let it ring once, hang up, and call again."

"You were wonderful last night," she said. "This morning, too."

"Same here," he replied.

"Oh, she's there, huh?"

"I'll talk to you later." He hung up. "I want to take a bath," Arrington said. "Join me?"

"Thanks, I've just showered," he replied. "Oh, it's going to be like that, is it?"

"You're a grieving widow, and I'm an old family friend."

"We'll see." She went upstairs.

Stone found Vance's study and picked up the phone. It was time to call Marc Blumberg.

Marc Blumberg came on the line. "Congratulations on getting her out of the Judson place," he said. "I passed the clinic on the way to work this morning; there were a lot of disappointed TV people out on the street."

"The cops leaked it to the media," Stone said. "I made the mistake of giving them advance notice."

"I saw a cop car there this morning, with Durkee in it."

"I saw them, too; do you think they were just there to watch the fun?"

"I think they were there to arrest Arrington," Blumberg said.

"Why do you think that?"

"I heard from a source at the LAPD that they have a witness who says Arrington expressed an interest in killing Vance."