Stuart Woods - L.A. Dead

"You here for long?"

"Until the Calder thing is done."

"Good luck on that one," Goldman said. "I hear the wife is toast."

"Don't believe everything you hear," Stone said.

He and Rick turned and walked back to their cars.

"Thanks for coming over here, Rick," Stone said. "They might not have been as nice, if you hadn't been here."

"Glad to do it. Stone, do you know something you didn't tell those guys?"

"No, that's everything."

"Good," Rick said, shaking hands. He got into his car and drove away.

Stone got back into his car. Well, almost everything, he thought. He had one other thought, but it was completely crazy, and he dismissed it.

Back at THE STUDIO bungalow, Stone called the Centurion switchboard. "Good morning, this is Stone Barrington, at the Vance Calder bungalow."

"Good morning, Mr. Barrington," a woman replied, "how can I help you?"

"Can you tell me if Charlene Joiner is working on the lot today?"

"Yes, she is; shall I connect you to her dressing room?"

"Thank you, yes."

The phone rang, and an answering machine picked up. Charlene's honeyed southern voice said, "Hey. I'm shooting, or something, at the moment, but I'll get back to you, if you're worth getting back to." A beep followed.

"Charlene, this is Stone Barrington. I'd like to see you sometime today, if you have a moment. You can reach me at Vance's bungalow. By the way, you should expect a call from the police, too, about Vanessa Pike's death." He hung up.

Louise Bremen came and knocked on the door. "Mrs. Barrington called," she said.

"Louise, there is no Mrs. Barrington," Stone replied, keeping his tone light. "Just a woman who claims to be that. Her name is Dolce Bianchi; what's her number?"

"She didn't leave a number," Louise said. "She just said you'd be hearing from her, and she kind of chuckled."

"Call the Bel-Air Hotel, and see if there's anybody registered under either name. If so, buzz me, and I'll talk to her."

"All right. Oh, and Mrs. Calder called, too."

"I'll return the call after I've spoken to Miss Bianchi."

A couple of minutes passed, and the phone buzzed. Stone picked it up. "Dolce?"

"No, Mr. Barrington," Louise said. "The Bel-Air says she's not registered there."

"Thanks, Louise. Try the Beverly Hills and the dozen best hotels after that, too. Ask about both names." He hung up the phone and thought for a minute. Actually, he admitted to himself, Dolce did have a right to call herself Mrs. Barrington, given the latest news from Italy, but it grated on him to hear her do it. Now he allowed himself to think about whether Dolce might have had anything to do with the torching of Vanessa's house and her death in the fire. Crazy, it certainly was, and he could not bring himself to believe that Dolce would have had anything to do with it, based simply on the fact of his visit there. He thought of mentioning it to the police, but dismissed the idea. He had no evidence whatsoever, and it might seem to the police like an attempt on his part to use them to rid himself of a troublesome woman. Still, he had to consider: If Dolce had been involved in Vanessa's death, might she try to harm Arrington? All the extra security he had arranged to guard the Calder estate was gone, since the press had lost some interest in her. Then he had a thought. He dialed Arrington's number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Stone."

"Where are you? I've missed you."

"Same here, but I've been busy. I'm at the bungalow at the moment. Tell me, you're awfully alone there; how would you like some houseguests? The judge didn't bar that."

"I'd like you for a houseguest," she replied.

"I was thinking of Dino and Mary Ann, if I can get them out here."

"Oh, I'd love to see them! I've got cabin fever in a big way, and since you're being so standoffish, their company would be very welcome."

"I don't feel standoffish," Stone said. "Circumstances are keeping us apart."

"Would you visit me, if Dino and Mary Ann were here?"

"I think that would be perfectly kosher."

"Then, by all means, invite them!"

"I'll call you back." He hung up and dialed Dino's office.

"Lieutenant Bacchetti."

"Dino, it's Stone."

"How's sunny California?"

"You said you had some time off coming; why don't you come out here and see for yourself? And bring Mary Ann?"

"You in some kind of trouble, pal?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure.".

"Dolce?"

"Possibly. A woman I had dinner with, somebody I'd met twice, died in a fire last night, not long after I left her house. It was arson, and they suspect her ex-husband, but…"

"And how can Mary Ann and I help?"

"You can come and stay at Arrington's."

"As extra security?"

"As houseguests. She says she'd love to see you both. She's been stuck alone in the house for too long, and cabin fever is setting in. There's a wonderful guest house, and some acreage; Mary Ana would love it."

"Hang on," Dino said, and put Stone on hold.

Stone tapped his fingers, waiting. He was beginning to feel a little cabin feverish, himself, even if he wasn't confined to quarters, and he missed his dinners with Dino at Elaine's.

"I'm back," Dino said. "Mary Ann's on board; we'll be out there tomorrow afternoon."

"That's great," Stone said. "I'll arrange for Arrington's butler to meet you at the airport, and we'll all have dinner together. The butlers name is Manolo; call Arrington's and leave your flight time with either him or her."

"Will do."

"Tell Mary Ann not to bring a lot of clothes; she can buy everything she needs on Rodeo Drive."

"Yeah, sure. If you mention that, I'll shoot you."

"Speaking of shooting, bring something, and will you stop by my house and bring me the Walther from my safe? Joan will open it for you; give her a call. And that little piece you loaned me is on my bedside table."

"Okay, see you tomorrow." Dino hung up.

Stone called Arrington and told her the news.

"I'll have Isabel plan something special for dinner," she said.

"Sounds great. Dino will let you know their flight time."

"Why don't you and I have dinner tonight?"

"Behave yourself."

"Oh, all right; just be here at seven tomorrow evening."

"I wouldn't miss it." Stone said good-bye and hung up. Almost immediately, the phone buzzed.

"Yes?"

"Charlene Joiner on line one."

He punched the button. "Hello, Charlene, how are you?"

"Terrible," she replied. "I'm very upset about Vanessa."

"It was a very bad thing."

"Did you know her, Stone?"

"I met her at Marc Blumberg's Palm Springs place a couple of days ago."

"You were right about the police; they're on their way over here now. Maybe you and I should talk before I meet them."

"No, you don't need a lawyer; just answer their questions truthfully. If we met first, it might make them think I'm involving myself in their case even more than I'm already involved."

"How are you already involved?"

"I had dinner at Vanessa's house last night; apparendy, I was the last person to see her alive."

"Lucky Vanessa! At least she went with a smile on her face."

"It wasn't like that, Charlene," Stone said. "When can we get together?"

"Why don't you come over here for lunch? I'll be done with the police by then, say one o'clock, and I don't have to be back on the set until three."

"All right, where are you?"

"In the biggest fucking RV you ever saw," she said, "parked at the rear of sound stage six. It's got 'Georgia Peach' painted on the side."

"I'll find it. See you at one."

"I'll look forward."

Stone found the RV at the back of the sound stage, and Char-lene had not overstated its size. It looked as long as a Greyhound bus, and it, indeed, had "Georgia Peach" painted on the side. Stone was about to get out of his car when he saw the two policemen, Rivera and Goldman, leaving the big vehicle. He waited until they had driven away before getting out of his car.