hedge. Somewhere behind him a dog-avery large dog, from the sound of him-had begun to bark. He stood in the street, soaking wet, grass-stained, and completely exposed, and tried to think what to do next.
As he thought, another car turned the corner to his right, and Stone was about to plunge through the hedge again when he realized the approaching headlights were a familiar oval shape. He ran at the car, hoping to God it was not somebody else’s E-class Mercedes, and waved it down. Shielding his eyes from the headlights, he could see Barbara behind the wheel. He flung himself into the passenger side.
“Get out of here!” he said. “Take a left at the corner!”
“Stone, what happened?” she asked. “You’re dripping wet.”
The car had not moved.
“Barbara,” Stone said as quietly and as slowly as he could, “Please drive away and make a left. Do itright now. ”
“Oh, all right,” she said, and she drove slowly away.
“Faster,” he said.
“How fast?”
“Faster than this!” he hissed.
“Maybe you’d better drive,” she said.
“Stop the car.” He got out, ran around the car, and, when she had settled herself in the passenger seat, smoothed her skirt, fastened her seatbelt, and closed the door, roared off into the Bel-Air night.
“Stone,” she said.
“What?”
“I didn’t get to see Vance’s house.”
39
Stone paced up and down the living room of his suite, trying to think. It was mid-morning, and the California sun streamed through the sliding glass doors to the terrace. Barbara was sitting up in bed, picking at her breakfast and watching Regis and Kathie Lee. The doorbell rang; Stone opened it and found the valet standing there, holding his cleaned clothes.
“Morning, Mr. Barrington,” the man said. “I think we did pretty good with these things.”
“Thanks very much,” Stone said, tipping the man and taking the clothing.
“You sure are hard on your clothes,” the man said. “But at least the second one was fresh water instead of salt.”
Stone hung up the clothes, closed the doors to the bedroom, picked up the phone, and dialed Rick Grant’s number.
“Lieutenant Grant.”
“Rick, it’s Stone.”
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
“I was worried when I didn’t hear from you yesterday.”
“Anything new?”
“Nothing; Mancuso is out on bail, and we haven’t found Manny yet. Oh, somebody spotted Mrs. Calder’s car on Sunset in Beverly Hills last night about ten, but I didn’t hear about it until this morning.”
“That was me; I was returning the car to Calder.”
“What did he have to say?”
“I didn’t get to talk to him,” Stone said. “I just left the car in the garage.”
“It must be driving him nuts, wondering how it got there.”
“I hope so. Anyway, you can take the car off the patrol list.”
“Okay. What else can I do for you?”
“Listen, Rick, I’ve got a big favor to ask.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve got to get rid of a girl.”
Rick was instantly wary. “What do you mean, ‘get rid of’?”
“I mean find her a safe place to stay. She’s Martin Barone’s girlfriend; I got her packed up and off his boat, and she stayed the night with me at the Beverly Hills, but I’ve got to get her out of here; she’s driving me nuts. Do you maybe know some nice police-woman who could take her off my hands for a few days?”
“What does she look like?”
“Tall, brunette, gorgeous.”
“I know a nice policemanwho could, maybe, take her off your hands for a few days. My boy’s away at college, so there’s a room at my place.”
“What about your wife?”
“Divorced eight years ago.”
“Where can we meet?”
They met at Rick’s house in Santa Monica.
“But I don’t understand,” Barbara said as they pulled up. “Why can’t I stay at the Beverly Hills with you?”
“Because it’s too dangerous,” Stone said, getting her luggage from the trunk. “I’m moving out, too, remember.”
“Where are you moving to?”
“I don’t know yet,” he lied. “I’ve got to find a place.”
“Why don’t we just move to another hotel, then?”
“I have too much to do, Barbara; I can’t take care of you.”
“So how’s your friend going to take care of me?”
“You’ll be safe with him; he’s a cop.”
“Acop?” she said, as if she were being asked to move in with a criminal.
“A very important detective, high up in the LAPD. Nobody will touch you if you’re staying at his house.”
“Oh,” she said.
Stone rang the bell, and Rick appeared at the door.
“Come on in, both of you.”
“Barbara, this is Lieutenant Richard Grant.”
“Call me Rick,” he said, shaking her hand and looking her up and down in a distinctly approving manner.
“Hi, Rick,” she said, smiling brilliantly. “I’m Barbara Tierney.”
“What a lovely name,” he said.
“Look, I’ve got to get moving, so I’ll leave you two alone,” Stone said.
Rick followed him out the door. “She’s amazing,” he said.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Where will you be?”
“I’m moving back to the Bel-Air. They’ve got a suite for me that’s at the top end of the hotel, so I can park outside and stay away from the bar and restaurant, where I might run into somebody I don’t want to see.”
“Mancuso’s lawyer called me, wondering about this murder charge I threatened his client with. I told him I intended to charge him, but in my own good time.”
“Good.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he ran.”
“Neither would I; Ippolito will want to get him out of town.”
“Sorry this hasn’t been more productive.”
“You get any more on Martin Barone?”
“Not yet.”
“Barbara knows him well,” Stone said. “You might want to question her closely.”
“My pleasure.” Rick grinned.
