morning from my attorney friend in Milan, about the possibility of divorce.'
'And?' Stone asked.
'The news isn't good. In order to get a civil divorce in Italy, the two of you have to appear before a magistrate and mutually request the action.'
'Can't I sue?'
'Yes, but in a contested divorce, you'd have to subpoena her, and you can't do that in the United States. You'd have to serve her in Italy.'
Stone winced. 'Good God.'
The car stopped at the entrance to the garage, and at that moment, there was a ringing noise.
Marc took a small cellphone from an inside pocket. 'Yes?' He smiled broadly. 'Sure, I'll see her. I'll go right now.' He closed the phone and stuck it back into his pocket. 'That was my office,' he said. 'Beverly Walters has been arrested for Vance's murder, and she wants me to represent her.'
'Are you going to?' Stone asked.
'Sure, why not? Since the charges against Arrington were dismissed with prejudice, there's no conflict. Anyway, it's an easy acquittal.'
Mary Ann turned around. 'Acquittal? After what was said in court today?'
'Sure. My guess is that, since she wasn't a suspect, she was never Mirandized, so everything she told the police and everything she said in court is inadmissible. The only testimony against her is Cordovas, and he's already admitted that he couldn't distinguish between Beverly and Arrington in the robe.'
'What about Vanessa Pike's murder?' Stone asked.
'There's no evidence against her,' Marc replied, 'or they would already have arrested her. Anyway, she may not have murdered Vanessa.'
That was true, Stone thought, and the other possible suspect was in a mental hospital.
Marc opened the car door and offered Stone his hand. 'Thanks for the fun,' he said. 'Now I've gotta go see my new client.'
'And thank you, Marc. I'll get you a check tomorrow.'
Dino drove away and pointed the car toward Bel-Air. 'Hey, what was all that crowd of reporters after you about?'
Stone sighed and told them what had happened.
'Did Arrington see the paper?' He nodded.
'I'm afraid so.'
They arrived back at the Calder house to find Manolo loading suitcases into the Bentley.
'Manolo,' Stone asked, 'is Mrs. Calder going somewhere?'
'Yes, sir,' Manolo replied. 'But you better ask her about that.'
'She certainly packed fast,' Stone said.
'Oh, she packed before we went to court,' Manolo said. 'And on the way home, she called Mr. Regenstein from the car. The Centurion airplane is waiting for her at Santa Monica.'
Stone went into the house, followed by Dino and Mary Ann. Arrington was coming out of the bedroom. He stopped her. 'Can we talk?' he asked.
'I don't think we have anything to talk about,' she said. 'I'm going to Virginia to be with Peter and my mother, and I don't know when I'm coming back. Why don't you join Betty Southard in Hawaii? The two of you were made for each other. Or, perhaps, you could move in with Charlene Joiner.'
He took her arm, but she snatched it away.
'Good-bye, Dino, Mary Ann,' she said, kissing them both. 'I'm sorry your stay wasn't as pleasant as it might have been.'
'Don't worry about it,' Dino replied.
'Something I want to know,' Stone said. 'The amnesia: Was it real?'
'It was at first. After I came home from the clinic, everything gradually came back to me.'
'So what happened that evening?'
'I don't think I'm going to tell you,' she said. 'You still think I might have killed Vance, don't you?'
'No, I don't.'
'Sure you do, Stone. Anyway, you'll never know for sure, will you?' And with that she turned and walked out of the house. A moment later, the Bentley could be heard driving away.
Isabel came into the room. 'Lunch is served out by the pool,' she said.
Dino took Stone's arm. 'Come on, pal. You could use some lunch, and probably a drink, too.'
Stone followed him outside, and the three of them sat down. Isabel brought a large Caesar salad with chunks of chicken and served them.
'You did very well this morning, Isabel,' Stone said. 'Thank you very much.'
'All I did was tell the truth,' Isabel replied. She opened a bottle of chardonnay and left them to their lunch.
They chatted in a desultory way about the events of the past weeks, and Stone felt depressed. He finished his salad and tossed off the remainder of his wine. 'Excuse me a minute,' he said, getting up. 'I have to make a phone call.'
'There's a phone,' Dino said, pointing at the pool bar.
'This one is private,' Stone replied. 'I'll go inside.' He went into the living room and looked around for a phone, but didn't see one, so he went into Vance's study and sat at the desk. Someone had left the bookcase /door to the dressing room open. He got out his notebook and dialed.
'Hello?'
'Betty, it's Stone.'
'Well, hello there. I heard about the court thing this morning on the news. Congratulations.'
'Thanks, but Marc Blumberg carried most of the water. Listen, I called about something else, something you have to know about.'
'Dolce's dirty pictures? I probably saw them before you did; it's earlier here, remember?'
'I'm so sorry about that, Betty.'
'Don't worry about it; it's made me a lot more interesting to people here. I've already had three dinner invitations this morning.'
Stone laughed. 'You're amazing.'
'I don't imagine the pictures went down quite as well for you. They must have caused problems.'
'Well, what can I do about it?'
'Treasure the photographs, sweetie; I will. Bye, now.'
Stone hung up laughing. Then he noticed that something seemed to have changed in the dressing room. He got up and walked through the doorway. The dressing room was empty of all Vance's clothes; only bare racks were left. The chesterfield sofa, where Vance's trysts with Beverly Walters had occurred, was all that was left in the room.
He was about to turn and go back outside to join Dino and Mary Ann, when he remembered something. He walked to Vance's bathroom, looked inside, then down the little hallway that separated it from the dressing room. He had noticed something odd here before and had forgotten about it.
He went into the bathrqpm and, with his outstretched arms, measured the distance to the door from the wall of the bathroom that backed onto the dressing room. Holding out his arms, he walked into the hallway and held his arms up to the wall of the little corridor. Then he measured the distance from the wall containing the dressing room safe to the door, and marked that off on the corridor wall. Most people wouldn't have noticed, he thought, but with his experience of remodeling his own house, he had. The wall containing the safe appeared to be about eighteen inches deep, instead of the usual four or six inches.
He went back into the dressing room, trying to remember the combination to the safe. 'One-five-three-eight,' he said aloud, then tapped the number into the keypad and opened the door. The safe was about four and a half inches deep; it was the kind meant to be installed in a standard depth wall between the studs. Or it appeared to be. He rapped on the sides of the safe, which made a shallow metallic noise, then he rapped on the rear wall of the safe, which made a deeper, hol-lower sound. Something was very odd here.
