“You used to live with Arrington, didn’t you?”
“I live in my own house,” he replied. “Arrington and I are good friends.”
“Well, ‘good friends’ can meananything in this town,” she said, scribbling away. “This your first movie part?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You sure?”
“I think I’d remember if I’d been in a movie.”
“Tell me, how does Vance feel about having Arrington’s old beau in town?”
“You should ask Vance; I’m here at his invitation.”
“A little male bonding while the wife is out of town, huh?”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Stone said.
“Really, Arlene,” Betty broke in. “You’re grilling Stone.”
“It’s what I do, honey,” Michaels said. “What are your first impressions of L.A., Stone?”
“I’m very favorably impressed,” Stone said, looking around the room.
“Well, it’s not all like this,” she said. “My first time in this house, I can tell you. Vance isn’t known for inviting the press into his home.”
Betty spoke up. “Arlene, you know Vance is a very private person.”
“Shy, you could say.”
“You could say. I’d think you’d be pleased to be the first reporter in this house for years.”
“Well, there was theArchitectural Digest piece last year, wasn’t there?”
“It’s hardly the same thing.”
Stone took Betty’s arm and guided her away. “Arlene, would you excuse us for just a moment? There’s something I have to discuss with Betty.”
“Sure,” Michaels replied.
Stone made sure his back was to the woman. “I understand that L.A. parties end early.”
“Always,” Betty said. “It’s an early town; everybody is at work at the crack of dawn.”
“Do you think you and I could have a drink somewhere later?”
“All right, but I have to be at work early, too. Let’s meet at the bar in the Bel-Air Hotel,” she said.
“Fine.”
“Now, we’d better rejoin Arlene; we don’t want her to go away miffed.”
They turned back to the woman and found her gone. She’d cornered Vance, and he was saved only by the tinkling of a silver bell.
“Dinner is served,” the Filipino butler called out.
The crowd, which had grown since Stone had arrived, moved out of the rear doors to a wide terrace, where tables of eight had been set. Stone looked at the place cards and found his seat, between Barbara Sturmack and a man who appeared, like Stone, to be alone. He helped Mrs. Sturmack with her chair, then turned to meet the man next to him.
“I’m Onofrio Ippolito,” the man said. He was shorter than Stone, heavily built without being fat, with thick, short salt-and-pepper hair.
“I’m Stone Barrington.” They shook hands.
“What brings you out here, Mr. Barrington?” the man asked.
“Just visiting friends,” Stone replied.
“That’s not what I heard,” Ippolito said.
Stone was about to ask what he’d heard when Barbara Stunnack tugged at his sleeve and began introducing him to others seated at the table. Stone never did resume his conversation with Ippolito.
When dinner was finished, they rose to go into the house for coffee, and Stone found David Sturmack walking alongside him. “Could I have a word with you alone?” he asked.
“Of course,” Stone replied and allowed himself to be steered into what he thought must be Vance’s study, a medium-sized room paneled in antique pine, with many fine pictures on the walls. When they were comfortably seated, Sturmack began.
“Stone, I do a great deal of business on the West Coast and some business in New York. I’m considering changing my legal representation in the city, and I wondered if you might be interested in representing me?”
“That’s very flattering, Mr. Sturmack-”
“David, please.”
“David. What sort of business do you do in New York?”
“Some real estate; I have interests in a couple of restaurants, and I may want to develop more with some friends; I invest in businesses; I buy, I sell; occasionally I litigate something. I’m a lawyer myself by training, but I haven’t practiced in years.”
“I should tell you that I don’t have any extensive experience in real estate and none at all in restaurants.”
“I’m aware of that; I spoke at some length with a Mr. William Eggers at Woodman and Weld this afternoon. He says that since you’re of counsel to his firm, they’d be willing to lend backup support and expertise in various specialties as needed.”
Stone was off balance; he hadn’t expected this. “Who represents you at the moment?”
“My principal attorneys are Hyde, Tyson, McElhenny and Wade, but I’ve been contemplating a move for some time.”
“What sort of billing have they experienced with you?”
“In excess of a million dollars a year. Of course, you’d have to take care of Woodman and Weld, but all the billing would be through you, and I imagine you’d be able to hang on to most of the fees. Also, there would be opportunities to invest some of your fees in various ventures, at an extremely good rate of return.”
“Mr. Sturmack, may I be frank?”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“You and I have met only this evening; you know little about me or my skills; why do you want me to represent you?”
“Stone, I know a great deal more about you than you think: I know about your record with the NYPD, I know about the major cases you’ve handled, and I know about how you handle yourself”
“You must understand that Woodman and Weld make some demands on my time, and it’s an association I value; I couldn’t undertake to represent you as my only client.”
“Of course I understand that, Stone. I’m not making this offer off the top of my head.”
“You don’t seem the sort of man who would do that,” Stone said.
“You’re right. Understand, a great deal of what I want from a lawyer is his personal skills-the way he handles himself in a situation. I like to avoid litigation when possible, but I like to get my way, too.”
Stone smiled. “All clients do. David, I really don’t think I can give you an answer immediately. Of course, your proposal is extremely attractive, but I think I’d have to talk with Bill Eggers about it, preferably in person, and I expect to be here for another week, maybe longer.”
“Of course. Tell you what: I’m jammed up for the next few days, but I expect to be in New York late next week. Why don’t you and I sit down and talk about it then. I’ll gather some specifics on my current situation, and we can discuss the workload.”
“That sounds very good.” They exchanged cards, shook hands, and rejoined the other guests.
Over coffee, Stone exchanged a glance with Betty Southard and nodded toward the door. She smiled and nodded, and after a moment, he said his goodbyes to his host and left, a minute behind her.
8
Stone pulled into the Bel-Air parking lot and surrendered the car. In the lobby, he had to ask where the bar was. The room surprised him; it was more English than Californian, darkly paneled, with a blazing fire in a handsome fireplace. He found Betty already seated on a small sofa near the fireplace, a waiter hovering nearby; it was only a little after ten, but there were few people in the room.
