Stuart Woods - L.A. Dead

The phone rang. "Hello?"

"Mr. Barrington?"

"Yes."

"This is Hillary Carter, Arrington's mother."

"How are you, Mrs. Carter?"

"Terrible, of course, but I'm glad you're here. Arrington badly needs someone to take charge of things."

"Have you seen her?"

"Only for a few minutes, yesterday, and she was semiconscious. She was asking for you, though."

"I'm seeing her at noon today."

"Oh, good. The doctor doesn't want her to see Peter, yet; I don't know why."

"I'll see if I can find out."

"I'm at Vance's house, now, and the situation here is nearly out of hand. I've had to call the police to keep people from climbing over the fence."

"I'll see if I can arrange some private security."

"That would be a very good idea, I think."

"Is Peter all right?"

"Yes, but he wants his mother and father, and I'm having to stall him. What I'd like to do is to get him out of this zoo and take him home to Virginia with me. Arrington is quite happy for him to come with me."

"That might be a good idea. Can I call you after I've seen Arrington?"

"Yes, please; I'll give you Vance's most secret number. The press hasn't learned about it, yet."

Stone wrote down the number.

"I'm so sorry we've never met face to face," Mrs. Carter said. "Arrington has always spoken so well of you."

"Mrs. Carter, do you have any objection to my taking over all of Arrington's legal decisions and contacts with… everyone outside the family?"

"I'd be very grateful if you would, but of course, I'd like to be consulted about any medical treatment beyond what she's getting now."

"Of course. I'll talk to you later today." He said good-bye and hung up. There was a knock on the door, and an envelope was slid under it. Stone checked the contents and found the documents Joan had faxed to him.

He telephoned Lou Regenstein.

"Yes, Stone?"

"I've just spoken with Arrington's mother, who is at Vance's house with her grandson. She says the press there is out of hand, and she's had to call the police. Can you arrange for some private security to take over that?"

"Of course; how many men do you want?"

"She says they're coming over the fence, and my recollection is that they've got a large piece of property there."

"Something like eight acres," Regenstein said.

"I should think half a dozen men inside the fence, two in the house and a car patroling the perimeter of the place, twenty-four hours a day, for the time being."

"Consider it done; anything else?"

"Mrs. Carter wants to take Peter back to Virginia with her. Do you think you could arrange transportation?"

"The Centurion jet is at her disposal," Regenstein said. "I'll have a crew standing by in an hour."

"I shouldn't think she'd need it until later today. Is it at Burbank?"

"Yes, but the press would know that. I'll have it moved to Santa Monica and hangared at the Supermarine terminal, until she's ready to leave."

"Thank you, Lou. I'll call you later."

There was nothing else to do, Stone reflected. Dino would be in the air, now, on his way back to New York. He checked his notebook, dialed the palazzo number in Venice and asked for Eduardo.

"Stone?"

"Yes, Eduardo?"

"This is Carmen Bellini. Eduardo and Dolce are on their way back to New York. I'm spending a couple of more days here to rest, at his suggestion. Are you in Los Angeles?"

"Yes." Stone told him most of what he knew so far. "If Eduardo contacts you before I reach him, please pass on that information."

"Certainly. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Pray for Arrington," Stone said.

He hung up, and it suddenly occured to him that, since he had left Venice, he had not thought of Dolce once.

Stone collected his rental car, a Mercedes E430, and drove to the Judson Clinic, arriving at noon. The place was housed in what had been a residence, a very large one, on a quiet Beverly Hills street, set well back from the road. The reception desk was in the marble foyer, and Stone asked for Dr. Judson.

A moment later, a man appeared on the upstairs landing, waving him up. Stone climbed the floating staircase and was greeted by a distinguished-looking man in his sixties, wearing a well-cut suit. Stone thought he would make an impressive witness, if it came to that.

"Mr. Barrington? I'm Jim Judson."

"Please call me Stone."

"Thanks. Come into my office, and let's talk for a moment, before we see Arrington."

Stone followed him into a large, sunny office and took a seat on a sofa, while Judson sat across from him in a comfortable chair.

"I want to tell you what I know, thus far, so that you'll be prepared when you see Arrington," he said.

"Please do."

"Arrington was brought here by an ambulance on Saturday evening, at the request of her personal physician, Dr. Lansing Drake, a well-known Beverly Hills doctor. She was alternately hysterical, disoriented, and lethargic. Dr. Drake explained briefly what had occurred at her residence, and he and I agreed that she should be sedated. I injected her with twenty milligrams of Valium, and she slept peacefully through the night.

"When she awoke on Sunday morning she seemed quite calm and normal, and she immediately asked that you be contacted. She said that you were on an island in the Caribbean called St. Mark's, and that she was supposed to meet you there. My staff made repeated attempts to contact you there, without success. I reassured her that we would find you, and she seemed to accept that. She slept much of the morning, had a good lunch. When she questioned why she was here I said that she had collapsed at home, and that I thought it a good idea for her to remain here for observation for a day or two. She accepted that.

"Late in the afternoon, her mother arrived, having flown in from Virginia. I was in the room when they met, and it became immediately apparent that Arrington was very disoriented. She seemed not to understand that she was married to Vance Calder, saying that she was supposed to interview him, but that she had changed her mind and had decided to meet you in St. Mark's instead. When her mother mentioned Peter, her son, she became disturbed again, but after a few moments seemed to understand that she had a son and that Calder was the father. Her mother, quite wisely, turned the conversation to trivial things, and after a few minutes she left. Arrington immediately went to sleep again."

"And what do you make of all this?" Stone asked.

"It seems clear that Arrington is undergoing periods of anterograde amnesia, brought on by the shock of her husband's murder. Anterograde amnesia is a condition during which the great mass of old memories, prior to a certain point, remain intact, while the subject does not have access to more recent memories, or those memories are intermittent or scrambled-this, as opposed to retrograde amnesia, during which the subject may lose memory of all prior events, even her identity."

"Forgive me, Jim, are you a psychologist?"

"A psychiatrist. This is, primarily, a psychiactric clinic, although we do some work with patients who have substance abuse problems."

"Is Arrington likely to recover all her memory?"

"Yes, if the basis for her amnesia is emotional, not physical, and that seems the case. Her mother had spoken with her on the previous Sunday and said that at that time she seemed perfectly normal. If she should show signs of not recovering her memory, then I think a brain scan would be in order, to rule out a physical basis for her problem."

"Does she know that Vance is dead?"

"That's hard to say; I haven't asked her that, direcdy, and when the police came here, I refused to allow her to be questioned."

"You did the right thing," Stone said.