Stuart Woods - L.A. Dead

With that, Blumberg got up and marched out of his office, ignoring the questions shouted by the crowd.

Betty switched off the set. "Well, I guess that puts the ball in the D.A.'s court, doesn't it?"

"I believe it does," Stone agreed. "That was a very impressive performance."

"Did you approve the reward?"

"No, but I would have, if asked. I think it's a good idea. It might turn up something and, at the very least, it will keep the police busy with leads from people who want the money."

A phone on the bedside table rang, and Betty answered it. "It's Marc Blumberg," she said, handing Stone the phone.

"Hi, Marc; I saw your press conference. Very good, and you have my approval on the reward money."

"I thought I would have," Blumberg answered. "I want to meet with Arrington this afternoon; where shall we do it?"

"How about three o'clock at her house? You know where it is?"

"Yes, and that's fine."

"There's a utility entrance at the rear of the property…"

"No,"Blumberg interupted, "I'll go in the front way; let the press see me."

"Whatever you think best."

"Just keep that phrase in mind, and we'll get along great, Stone. See you at three." He hung up.

The phone rang again immediately, and Betty answered it. "It's Arrington," she said, handing Stone the phone again.

"Hi."

"I just saw Marc Blumberg on TV; was that your idea?"

"No, it was his, but I wholeheartedly approve."

"I haven't seen this rag, but I take it the photographer I saw was responsible."

"Yes; that should give you some idea of how careful you have to be. Marc Blumberg is coming to the house at three this afternoon; be ready to meet him, and don't wear a bikini."

She laughed. "Touche. Will you be here?"

"Yes."

"See you then."

Stone hung up and turned to Betty. "Will you make some notes on the tenor of the mail you're receiving? I expect Blumberg will want to know about it."

"Sure; I'll go add it all up now." Betty left the room.

Stone finished dressing. For the first time, he was beginning to feel some optimism about the way things were going. Marc Blumberg was a considerable force, when aroused, and Stone was glad to have him on Arrington's side.

He had been dreading this call, but he couldn't put it off any longer. Stone dialed Eduardo Bianchi's private telephone number in New York. As usual, he got only the beep from an answering machine, no message.

"Eduardo, it's Stone Barrington. I would be grateful if you could call me sometime today; there's something important I have to talk to you about." He left the numbers of both the bungalow and the Calder house.

Then he called Dino. He could not remember when so much time had passed without a conversation with his friend, and he knew he had been putting off this one, because he knew what Dino would say.

"She's guilty," Dino said, after Stone had brought him up to date.

"No, she's not."

"You just don't want to believe it, because you think she killed him so she could have you."

Stone winced at the truth. "She passed a polygraph yesterday, aced it," he said lamely.

"Yeah, I saw Blumberg's press conference on CNN. I don't believe it; she must have been on drugs, or something."

"The examiner told me drugs couldn't fool him." It had occured to him that Arrington had seemed eerily calm since she had left the clinic.

"Look, Stone, I've been getting updates from Rick Grant, and while they may not have her cold, his people really believe she whacked her husband."

"I'm aware of their opinion," Stone said. "But don't judge her so soon. I'm here, on the spot, up to my ears in this, and my instincts tell me she's innocent."

"Stone, nobody's innocent , you know that. Everybody's guilty of something ."

"Not murder; not Arrington. She doesn't have it in her."

"Whatever you say, pal."

"There's something else."

"What?"

"I ended it with Dolce last night."

"Good news, at last! What made you see the light?"

"We had a transatlantic conversation that I didn't like the tone of, for one thing."

"And Arrington's free, for another thing?"

"There is that," Stone admitted sheepishly. "It was something I hadn't expected."

"Have you told Eduardo?"

"I have a call in to him now."

"That should be an interesting conversation."

"Any advice as to how I should handle it?"

"Oh, I don't know; how do you feel about South America?"

"Come on, Dino; how should I break it to him?"

"Right between the eyes, dead straight; he might respect that."

"I hope so."

"Then again, he might not. He dotes on that girl; if he thinks you've done her wrong, well…"

"Well, what?"

"You might not be well for very long."

"Dino, this isn't Sicily."

"To Eduardo, everywhere is Sicily."

"I see your point," Stone said.

"I think everything is going to depend on what Dolce says to

Eduardo," Oino said. "How pissed off was she when you broke it to her?"

"Pretty pissed off."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Maybe she'll cool off before she talks to the old man."

"Maybe."

"For your sake, I hope so."

"Thanks."

"You want me to take some time off, come out there?"

"I don't know what you could do, Dino, except keep me company. That, I wouldn't mind."

"You let me know if something comes up and you need me, okay?"

"Okay."

"I got a meeting; talk to you later."

Stone hung up. Why did everybody think Arrington was guilty, except him? Was he completely nuts? Blinded by how he felt about her? He made himself a sandwich in the bungalow's kitchen, then went into Betty's office. "How's the mail coming?"

Betty consulted a steno pad. "Nearly done," she said, "and opinion is running about two to one against Arrington."

"Swell," Stone said. He looked at his watch. "I've got to run; I'm meeting Marc Blumberg at the house."

Stone took the rear entrance, then watched through a front window as Marc Blumberg drove very slowly through the mob of press, through the gates, and up to the house. The lawyer certainly knew how to make an entrance.

Arrington appeared from the bedroom just as Blumberg entered the house. She gave Stone a peck on the cheek, then shook hands with Blumberg.

"How are you, Marc? It's been a long time."

"I'm teriffic, Arrington, and I hope you are, too."

"I'm all right, I guess. How is Arlene?"

"Very well."

"Tell her I miss my yoga class with her."

"I know she misses you, too."

Manolo stepped up. "May I get you anything, Mr. Blumberg?"

"No thanks," Blumberg replied. "Let's get down to work. Arrington, I want to talk with you alone at some length; where can we do that?"

"Vance's study would be a good place," she replied. "Can Stone be there?"

"Sorry, this is just you and me." He took a folder from his briefcase and handed it to Stone. "You might take a look at this while we're talking. We'll be a while."

Stone accepted the folder and watched as Arrington led Marc Blumberg into Vance's study and closed the door. He asked Manolo for some iced tea, then went out onto the rear terrace, took a seat, and opened the folder. Inside was the medical examiner's report on Vance Calder's autopsy.

Manolo brought the tea and left him alone. He began to read. Death as the result of a single gunshot to the right occipital region of the head. No news there. Subject a well-developed male of fifty-two years, seven months, six feet two, a hundred and ninety pounds. Stone's own height and weight. Drugs present in bloodstream: Zyrtec, an antihistamine; alcohol content:.03, a drink or two.

He was surprised at the number of scars found on Vance's body: two-inch scar over left collarbone-sutured; one-and-one-half-inch scar, inside of left wrist, unsutured, secondary tissue present; two-and-one-half-inch surgical scar, right shoulder; one-inch abdominal surgical scar; three-inch surgical scar, left knee, two-inch scar, sutured, right thigh; several small scars on both hands. X rays revealed some old broken bones-right femur, left tibia, and a broken nose. That, he reflected, had given Vance's face additional character, kept him from looking pretty. All in all, though, it sounded as though Vance had lead a rougher life than that of a pampered movie star. He noted the absence of any cosmetic surgical scars. Vance Calder had been the real thing.