Stone looked up at the cabin screen again. A film was starting, and it was Vance Calder's latest and last. Stone watched it through, once again amazed at how the actor's presence on screen held an audience, even himself, even now.
The time change was in Stone's favor, and they reached LAX in the early evening. Stone stepped off the airplane and found Rick Grant waiting for him. The LAPD detective was in his fifties, graying, but trim-looking. They greeted each other warmly.
'Give me your baggage claim checks,' Rick said, and Stone complied. He handed them to another man. 'The Bel-Air?' he asked Stone. Yes.
Rick guided Stone through a doorway, down a flight of stairs, and out onto the tarmac, where an unmarked police car was waiting. Rick drove. 'You all right?' he asked.
'Well, it's three o'clock in the morning where I just came from, but after some sleep I'll be okay. How about you? How's the job?'
'I made captain; that's about it.'
'How's Barbara?' Stone had introduced Rick to Barbara Tierney, who was now his wife.
'Extremely well; in fact, she's pregnant.'
'At your age? You dog.'
'How about that? I thought I was all through with child rearing.'
'Bring me up to date on what happened, Rick, and don't leave anything out.'
The Brentwood station caught the case on Satuday evening, about seven p.m. Calder's Filipino butler called it in. There was a patrol car there in three minutes, and the detectives were there two minutes after that. Calder's body was lying in the central hallway of the house, face down. He'd taken one bullet here,' he tapped his own head at the right rear, 'from about three feet. He was still breathing when the patrol car got there, but dead when the detectives arrived.'
'The gun?'
'Nine millimeter automatic; Calder owned one, and it hasn't turned up, in spite of a
'Where was Arrington when it happened?'
'In the bathtub, apparendy. They were going out to dinner later. The butler heard the shot and sent the maid to find her. She was still in a robe when the detectives arrived. They noted the strong smell of perfume; there was a large bottle of Chanel No. 5 on her dressing table.'
'And that made them suspicious, I guess.'
'Yeah.'
'But how would Arrington know that perfume can remove the residue from the hands of someone who's fired a gun?'
Rick shrugged. 'It's the sort of thing that pops up on the news or in a television movie. Anybody could know it.'
'Did Arrington say anything to the detectives?'
'She was distraught, of course, but she seemed willing to talk; then she fainted. By this time, an ambulance had arrived, and the EMTs revived her. When she came to, she seemed disoriented-gave her name as Arrington Carter and didn't recognize the maid or her surroundings. The maid called her doctor, and he arrived pretty quickly. He had the EMTs load her up and take her to a toney private hospital, the Judson Clinic, in Beverly Hills. After the crime scene team arrived, they went to the clinic to question Arrington but were told she'd been sedated and would be out for at least twenty-four hours.'
'Anything missing from the house?'
'Calder's jewelry box, which, the butler said, had half a dozen watches and some diamond jewelry in it, and the gun. None of Arrington's stuff had been taken, according to the maid.'
'So, Calder could have interrupted a burglary and gotten shot with his own gun for his trouble.'
'That's one scenario,' Rick said.
'And I guess another is that Arrington shot Vance during a quarrel, hid the gun and the jewelry box, scrubbed her shooting hand and arm with Chanel No. 5 and jumped into a tub, just in time to be found by the maid.'
'That's about it.'
'Any other scenarios?'
'Nope, just the two.'
'How's the voting going?'
Rick shrugged. 'I'd say the burglar is losing, at the moment.'
'Are you serious?'
'I think the detectives would have felt better about her, if she'd kept her head and told them a convincing story. They weren't too keen on the hysterics and fainting.'
'They think she was acting?'
'They think it's a good possibility. I'd find her a shrink, if I were you, and a lawyer, too. A good one.'
The two men rode along in silence for a few minutes. Shortly, Rick turned off the freeway and onto Sunset Boulevard. A couple of minutes later he turned left onto Stone Canyon, toward the Bel-Air Hotel.
'Is there anything else you want to ask me, Stone?' Rick said. 'Next time we meet, we might not be able to talk to each other so freely.'
'I can't think of anything else right now. Any advice?'
'Yeah, get Centurion Studios involved; they're equipped to handle something like this, and I understand that Calder was a major stockholder, as well as their biggest star.'
'I'll call Lou Regenstein tomorrow morning,' Stone replied.
Rick turned into the hotel parking lot and stopped at the front entrance. 'Good luck with this, Stone,' he said. 'Don't hesitate to call, but don't be surprised if I clam up or can't help. I'll do what I can.'
'Thanks for all you've done, Rick, and thanks for meeting my flight, too.'
'Your luggage will be here soon.'
Stone shook his hand and got out of the car. He walked over the bridge to the front entrance of the hotel and into the lobby. 'My name is Barrington,' he said to the young woman at the desk. 'I believe I have a reservation.'
'Oh, yes, Mr. Barrington,' she replied. 'We've been expecting you.' She picked up a phone and dialed a number. 'Mr. Barrington is here.'
A moment later a young man arrived at the desk. 'Good evening, Mr. Barrington, and welcome back. My name is Robert Goodwood; I'm the duty manager. Did you have any luggage?'
'It's being delivered from the airport,' Stone said.
'Then I'll show you to your suite.'
The young man led the way outdoors and briskly up a walkway, asking about Stone's flight and making chitchat. He turned down another walkway and arrived at a doorway hidden behind dense plantings, unlocked it and showed Stone in.
Stone was impressed with the size and beauty of the suite, but concerned about the cost.
As if anticipating him, Goodwood said, 'Mr. Bianchi has insisted that your stay here is for his account.'
'Thank you,' Stone said.
'I'll send your luggage along as soon as it arrives. Can I do anything else for you?'
'Please send me the New York and L.A. papers.'
'Of course.' Goodwood gave Stone the key and left.
Stone left the suite's door open for the bellman, shucked off his coat, loosened his tie, sat down on a sofa, and picked up the phone.
'Yes, Mr. Barrington?' the operator said.
'Would you find the number of the Judson Clinic, which is in Beverly Hills, and ring it?' he asked.
'Of course; I'll ring it now.'
Apparently the hotel knew of the hospital.
'The Judson Clinic,' a woman's voice breathed into the phone.
'My name is Stone Barrington,' he said. 'I'm a friend of Mrs. Arrington Calder. Can you connect me with her
