prevailed, and the police have a fully constituted sample. All that remains now is to have Ms. Blaine tested for it.”
“That’s good news, Ed.”
“A problem, though; since there is no existing evidence that Ms. Blaine is Ms. Parks, there is no probable cause for the police to request a warrant requiring her to give a sample for testing.”
“That is a problem, isn’t it?”
“It is, unless you can help.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Do you think there is some way you might be able to get a sample of her DNA?”
“What, exactly, did you have in mind, Ed?”
“I don’t know; get her into the sack and get a swab, I guess.”
“Aren’t you forgetting that Ms. Blaine, if she is Ms. Parks, is a lesbian?”
“More likely bisexual,” Eagle said, “in that she slept with Mr. Hanks as well as Mrs. Hanks.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Ed; she hasn’t shown the slightest interest in sex with me, and to tell you the truth, I have no interest in sex with her.”
“Force yourself,” Eagle said.
Stone laughed. “There’s got to be another way.”
“All right, find another way.”
“Ed, all I can tell you is that, should I have an opportunity to snag some small part of her precious bodily fluids, I will do so.”
“I guess I can’t ask any more than that,” Eagle said.
“You have already done so.”
“My apologies.”
“No apology necessary,” Stone said.
“Your shareholders’ meeting is today, isn’t it?”
“It is, but I’m afraid our side has come up short in the quest to deny Mr. Prince his opportunity to raze much of the studio, in favor of a hotel.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“On the bright side, I did bank twenty-five million dollars of his money this morning-a down payment on his purchase of Arrington Calder’s Bel-Air property.”
“So, it’s a clean sweep for Mr. Prince, is it?”
“Looks like it. I had hoped to see him laid low, but a quarter of a billion dollars for the Bel-Air property is a nice consolation prize.”
“We should all be so consoled.”
“Yes, we should. Gotta run, Ed.”
“Keep in touch; I’m relying on you.”
“Oh, the pressure!” Stone said, and hung up.
The phone rang again almost immediately. “Hello?”
“It’s Eggers.”
“Good day, Bill; where are you?”
“Still in Seattle. I wanted you to know I’ve been informed that we received Mr. Prince’s twenty-five million dollars into our trust account this morning. It has already been transferred to Arrington’s Chase accounts. Perhaps she should give her banker some instructions on how to invest it; you don’t want to lose a day’s interest on that kind of balance.”
“Good point, Bill.”
“And don’t forget to pay the taxes.”
“Will do.”
“When is your meeting?”
“At two, L.A. time.”
“Good luck.”
“I’m afraid we’re all out of that, but thanks.”
“You don’t have the votes?”
“Only forty-eight percent, or thereabouts.”
“That’s sad.”
“Yes, it is. Gotta run, Bill; thanks for the call.”
Arrington and Dino were chatting on the patio when Stone got there.
“Hi,” Arrington said. “Mike Freeman is joining us for lunch.”
“Good,” Stone replied. Mike arrived a moment later, and they sat down to eat.
Everyone was uncharacteristically quiet.
“Such a nice day,” Dino said.
“Ever the conversationalist, Dino,” Stone replied.
“I thought somebody ought to say something.”
Things got quiet again.
“Arrington,” Mike said, “would you mind if I come to the shareholders’ meeting with you?”
“I’d be delighted to have you, Mike. Why are you interested?” Mike looked a little sheepish. “Well, I’ve never seen the inside of a movie studio,” he said.
Everybody laughed, and the conversation improved after that.
53
Manolo got out the Bentley, and the four of them piled in, Stone driving.
“I have the terrible feeling that we are about to witness bad history,” Arrington said. “Like standing on an Oahu hilltop and watching Pearl Harbor get bombed.”
“I have exactly the same feeling,” Stone said. “Dino, are you still all up about this?”
“My bones tell me it’s going to be a good day,” Dino said.
“Well, if it turns out not to be, we’re going to stand you against a wall and shoot you.”
Everybody laughed a nervous laugh.
They drove down into Beverly Hills and on toward the Centurion lot. They passed an empty bus going the other way with a banner stretching from one end to the other, saying SAVE CENTURION STUDIOS
“It seems we have support from somebody,” Stone said. “I wonder who?”
“Movie lovers,” Dino replied.
As they approached the main gate to the studio, they saw police cars with lights flashing, and a couple of hundred people were gathered, many carrying homemade signs exhorting shareholders to vote with the studio. There were two television vans parked near the gate with satellite dishes pointed skyward, and reporters and cameras attached to them by long cables.
“I hadn’t expected this,” Arrington said from the front passenger seat.
“Neither had I,” Stone said.
“How the hell did they even know about this meeting?” Dino asked.
“I suppose it must have been in the papers,” Mike said, “but I swear, this looks like something put together by a publicist or a political campaign manager.”
A young woman with big hair rapped on Arrington’s window with a microphone, shouting her name.
Arrington pressed the button and the window slid down. The previous silence was replaced by disorderly chanting. “Yes?” she said to the reporter.
“Mrs. Calder,” the reporter said, “how would your husband feel about this meeting today, if he were
