Stuart Woods - L.A. Dead

"I chose a different business, and I am choosing a different woman." My God, he thought, what do I have to say to get through to her?

Dolce shook her head. "No, Stone; you haven't yet come to the point where you have to make a real choice." She chewed her lobster. "But you will."

"Is that some sort of threat, Dolce?"

"Call it a prediction, but take it any way you like."

"Why would you want a man who doesn't want you?" he demanded. "Why do you demean yourself?"

She put down her fork, and her eyes narrowed again. "You do not know me as well as you will after a while," she said, "but when you do come to know me, you will look back on that remark as dangerous folly."

"That's it," Stone said, putting down his spoon, his soup still untouched. "One last time, for the record: I do not love you; I will not marry you; I have not married you. I love another woman, and I believe I always will. I want nothing more to do with you, ever. I cannot make it any clearer than that. He stood up. "Good-bye, Dolce."

"No, my darling," she replied smoothly, "merely au revoir ."

"Dolce," he said, "California has a very strong law against stalking; don't make me publicly humiliate you." He turned and walked out of the cafe.

All the way back to the studio he ran the conversation through his head, over and over. It had been like talking to a marble sculpture, except that a sculpture does not make threats. Or had she made threats? Was there anything in her words that could be used against her? He admitted there was not. What was he going to do? How could he get this woman off his back? More important, how could he get her off his back without grievously offending her father, whom he did not want for an enemy?

He parked in front of the bungalow and, finding it locked, used his key. On Betty's desk there was a note, stuck to a package.

"I've taken your advice, lover; I'm on a late afternoon plane. I'll call you in a couple of days to see how you're making out. A girl from the pool will be in tomorrow morning to do for you, although she probably won't do for you as I do. Take care of yourself."

He turned to the package, which was an overnight air envelope with a Rome return address. He opened it, and two sheets of paper fell out. The top one was a heavy sheet of cream-colored writing paper. Stone read the handwritten letter:

The Vatican

Rome

Dear Stone,

I have made the investigations I told you I would, speaking personally to the mayor of Venice. I have concluded that you and Dolce are legally married in Italy, and that the proper documents, which you both signed, have been duly registered. The marriage would be considered valid anywhere in the world.

I know this was not the news you wanted. I would offer advice on an annulment, but you are not a Catholic, and, you surely understand, I cannot offer advice on divorce.

You remain in my thoughts and prayers. If there is any other help I can give you, please let me know.

Warmly, Bellini

Stone looked at the other piece of paper. It was printed in Italian, bore his and Dolce's names, and appeared to be a certificate of marriage.

"Oh, shit," he said.

Stone called Dino. "Do you remember telling me, on the way to Italy, that there would be two marriage ceremonies, a civil one and a religious one?"

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

"You remember telling me that the civil ceremony wasn't legal until the religious ceremony had been performed?"

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

"Where did you get that information?"

"Which information?"

"The information that one ceremony didn't count without the other?"

"I said one wouldn't be legal, without the other. I didn't say it wouldn't count ."

"Where did you get that information?"

"From Mary Ann."

"Is Mary Ann an authority on Italian marital law?"

"All women are authorities on marital law, in any country."

"Do you know where Mary Ann got that information?"

"No, why?"

"Because I want to strangle the person who gave it to her."

"My guess is, that would be Dolce. Good luck on strangling her without getting offed, yourself. What the fuck is this about, Stone?"

"I called Bellini to ask him about this. I just got a letter from him, along with a copy of my marriage certificate."

"You mean the ceremony is valid, legally?"

"Yes."

Dino began giggling. "Oh, Jesus!" he managed to get out.

"This isn't funny, Dino. I just had lunch with Dolce, where I made it as clear as possible that I was not married to her and didn't intend to be."

"Let me guess: She didn't buy that."

"You could put it that way. She as much as said she'd kill me or, maybe, Arrington if I continue to deny the marriage."

"Well, if I were you, I'd take the threat seriously."

"I am taking it seriously."

"What's your next move? I'm dying to hear."

"I haven't the faintest idea."

"Want a suggestion?"

"If it's a serious one."

"First, I'd see a divorce lawyer; then I'd watch my ass. Arrington's, too, which isn't too much of a chore, if I correctly recall her ass."

"Do you have any idea what it takes to get a divorce in Italy?"

"Nope; that's why I suggested a divorce lawyer. Listen, pal, be thankful you didn't get married in the Italian church. Then you'd really be in deep shit."

"Dino, I don't think I ever thanked you properly,"

"Thank me for what?"

"For advising me to stay away from Dolce."

"You didn't take my advice; why are you thanking me?"

"It was good advice, even if I didn't take it."

"Well, I'm glad you remember; saves me from saying I told you so."

"I'm happy to save you the trouble."

"Listen, Stone, this isn't all bad, you know?"

"It isn't? What's not all bad about it?"

"You've got the perfect means of staying single now. Every time some broad presses you to marry her, all you've got to say is, that you're already married, and your wife won't give you a divorce." Dino suppressed a laugh, but not well. "And you'll be telling the truth. Millions of guys would envy you!"

"You don't happen to know an Italian divorce lawyer, do you?"

"Nope, and can you imagine what will happen if you get one, and then he finds out who you're trying to divorce?"

"What?"

"Come on, Stone, Eduardo is probably better known to Italian lawyers than to American ones."

"You really know how to make a guy's day, Dino."

"Always happy to spread a little cheer."

"See you around." Bye.

Stone hung up, looked at his watch, then called Marc Blumberg's office.

"Yeah, Stone?"

"Marc, I'm glad you're back from Palm Springs. Can I come and see you? I need some legal advice, on a subject not connected to our present case."

"Sure, come on over; I'll make time."

Stone was surprised to find Vanessa Pike in Marc's office, and relieved to see her fully dressed. "Hi, Vanessa," he said.

"I was going to run Vanessa home, as soon as I made a couple of calls," Marc said. "What can I do for you?" He looked at Stone, then at Vanessa. "Honey, can you go powder your nose?"

Vanessa got up, opened a door in the corner of Blumberg's large office and closed it behind her.

"What's up?" Marc asked.

"You do divorce work, don't you?"

"Who are we talking about, getting divorced?"

"Me."

"Sure, I do divorce work, but first the client has to be married."

Stone placed the letter from Bellini and the marriage certificate on Marc's desk.

Marc read the letter. "Wow," he said. "You're pals with Cardinal Bellini?"

"He was supposed to officiate at my wedding, in Venice. We had a civil ceremony on a Saturday and it was my understanding that it wasn't valid until we had the religious ceremony. The call came about Vance's death before that could take place, and the next thing I knew, I was on a plane for LA."