“What time?”
“Seven?” He gave her the address.
“See you then.”
Stone hung up and waited for Dino to finish his conversation with Rivera. “Dino, do you think you might like to have dinner with your new friend Hetty again tonight?”
“Why not?” Dino asked. “Where are we going?”
“We’re dining in,” Stone said. He picked up the phone and buzzed Manolo.
“Yes, Mr. Stone?”
“We’d like to dine here this evening, Manolo. Will that be all right?”
“I’ll tell Carmen,” he said. “How many people and at what time?”
“Four; we’ll sit down at eight, if that’s convenient for her. She can cook whatever she likes.”
“And at what time will your guests arrive?”
“Seven-a Ms. Blaine and a Ms. Lang, arriving separately.”
“It will be a warm evening; would you like to dine by the pool?”
“That would be perfect,” Stone said.
“I’ll see to everything.”
“Thank you, Manolo.” Stone hung up.
“Why don’t we kidnap Manolo and Carmen and spirit them back to New York?” Dino asked.
“What a good idea! What did Rivera have to say?”
“I passed everything on and he seemed very interested, until I brought up Prince’s name. Then he sort of shied away.”
“Mr. Prince’s reputation apparently precedes him,” Stone said.
“Oh, yeah. He promised he’d look into it, though.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I got the impression he’d be looking into it without telling his superiors,” Dino said.
17
Carolyn Blaine and Hetty Lang arrived nearly simultaneously, and Manolo brought them out to the pool, where Stone and Dino, freshly scrubbed, awaited them. Manolo took their drinks orders, then returned and served them.
“Thank you, Manolo,” Stone said.
“What a lovely place,” Carolyn said. “Whose house is it?”
“Vance Calder’s,” Stone said.
“Gosh, I was his complete fan,” Carolyn said. She looked around at the gardens. “There seems to be quite a lot of property.”
“Fourteen acres,” Stone replied, “and an option to buy another four.” He turned to Hetty. “Are you working on a film now, Hetty?”
“Yes, on a thriller that the studio seems to be very excited about. It should be good for my career.”
“An option for four more acres?” Carolyn asked.
Stone ignored her. “How long have you been under contract with Centurion, Hetty?”
“A year and a half,” she replied.
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Oh, yes; the other kids say it’s just like Metro in the thirties. They teach us everything.”
“Stone,” Carolyn said, “about this house…”
“Ah,” Stone said, “it looks like dinner is about to be served.”
Manolo was wheeling a cart to the poolside table. “In one minute, Mr. Stone,” he said.
“What classes are you taking?” Stone asked, again ignoring Carolyn.
“Acting, dancing, and fencing,” Hetty replied.
Carolyn was starting to ask again, but Manolo interrupted her. “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served,” he said.
They all rose and took seats at the table. Stone tasted the wine and nodded to Manolo to pour.
Carolyn was looking antsy, and throughout dinner Stone did nothing to relieve that. When they were finished and afterdinner drinks had been served, Dino asked Hetty if she’d like to see the gardens, and the two of them left Stone and Carolyn alone.
“Now,” Carolyn said, “about this property and the other four acres
…”
Stone turned and looked at her. “Who are you?” he asked. She froze for a moment. “Didn’t I give you my card?” she asked.
“Your card and a brief bio,” Stone replied. “Why do I have the very strong feeling that, if I investigated, I’d find that everything you told me was a lie?”
Carolyn tried not to look flustered. She took a sip of her brandy and a deep breath.
“That’s a very odd thing to say to a dinner guest,” she said.
“Forgive my rudeness. Again, who are you?”
“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if I left,” she said.
“I wouldn’t be more comfortable,” he said, “but you might.
If you wish to leave, then, by all means, do so. But if we should meet again, my first question would still be, who are you?”
She stared into her brandy glass. “All right,” she said, “I fudged my resume to get my job. Is that so terrible?”
“You did a great deal more than fudge your resume,” Stone said. “Everything you told me-and, no doubt, Terrence Prince-was a bald-faced lie. You made yourself up out of whole cloth.”
“Sometimes in life,” she said, “there is a need to just start over from scratch.”
“I suppose,” Stone replied. “But usually people who start over begin with the same name and credentials, then try to improve on those credentials as time passes.”
“All right,” she said, “I’m not proud of my past.”
“Are you a fugitive from justice?” Stone asked.
“No,” she replied. “No one is looking for me.”
“So you got away clean?” Stone asked, taking a leap.
“I’m not a criminal,” she said with some heat.
“Not in your own eyes, anyway,” Stone said. He was flying, now, making it up as he went along.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know what a sociopath is?” Stone asked. This just might push her over the edge, he thought.
But she sat perfectly still. “A person with no conscience,” she replied.
“Correct. A person who thinks only of herself and no one else. A person who could never admit wrongdoing, because she figures that, if she did it, it couldn’t be wrong.”
“That’s a very harsh judgment of someone you hardly know,” she said.
“Don’t know at all,” he responded. “Why don’t we start over. Who are you?”
“My name doesn’t matter,” she said.
“It matters in that was your first opportunity to tell the truth, and you passed on that.”
“All right, my name-at birth-was Olga Chernik. I was born in Chicago of Polish parents, I attended the public schools through the eighth grade, and then I ran away from home.”
“Where did you go?” Stone asked.
“Eventually, to Las Vegas.”
Stone thought he knew where the rest of this was going. “And you came under the aegis of a pimp, who got you hooked on heroin, and thereafter you led a life of degradation. Come on, Carolyn, you can do worse than that.”
