L.A. Dead

"I thought wed dine outside," Arrington said. "Such a perfect California evening."

"It certainly is," Stone agreed. This was going well, and he was relieved.

"You know, before I married Vance I had always hated L.A., but evenings like this changed my mind. I mean, there's smog and traffic, and everybody talks about nothing but the business, but on evenings like this, you could almost forgive them."

"I think Dino has caught the L.A. bug, too," Stone said, smiling. "He was inquiring only today whether the LAPD would have him."

"What?" Mary A

"My very words to him."

"Maybe I wouldn't have to cop for a living," Dino said. "Maybe I'd become an actor. I could do all those parts Joe Pesci does, and better, too."

"You know, Dino, I believe you could," Arrington laughed. "Want me to call Lou Regenstein at Centurion and get you a screen test?"

"Nah, I don't test, and I don't audition," Dino said, waving a hand. "My agent would never let me do that… if I had an agent."

"That's it, Dino," Arrington said. "Play hard to get. Movie people want most the things they can't have. Your price would double."

Then, it seemed to Stone, the clock began to run backward, and they all became the people they had been before all this had happened. They were old friends, easy together, enjoying the evening and each other. The gimlets seemed to help, too. Soon they were laughing loudly at small jokes. Then Manolo called them to di

No soup this time, Stone reflected; nothing to be dumped in his lap, and no Dolce to screw up their evening. They began with seared foie gras, crisp on the outside, melting inside, with a cold Chateau Coutet, a sweet, white Bordeaux. That was followed by a thick, perfect veal chop and a bottle of Beringer Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon. Dessert was an orange creme brulee and more of the Coutet.

Coffee was served in Vance's study, before a fire, as the desert night had become chilly. The women excused themselves, and Stone and Dino declined Manolo's offer of Vance's cigars.

"Looks like the bloom is back on the rose," Dino said.

"The atmosphere is certainly warmer," Stone agreed.

"Arrington and Mary A

"That's embarrassingly close to the truth," Stone said. "Have you heard anything from Dolce?"

"She and Mary A

"Is that where she's staying?"

"She's been cagey about where she's staying. I don't like it, frankly; I don't think this is over."

"Neither do I."

"Are you carrying?"

"No, and I don't know why I asked you to bring a weapon out here. A moment of paranoia, I guess."

"If Dolce is mad at you, it's not paranoid to go armed. If I were you, I wouldn't leave home without it."

"I'd feel a fool, wearing a gun these days," Stone said. "It took some getting used to when I was on the force, but now… well, it just seems, I don't know, belligerent."

"You've never liked guns, have you?"

"No, I guess not. I mean, I admire a well-made tool, and I guess that's what a gun is. Some of them are beautiful things, like the Walther, but I never liked the Glocks; they're ugly."

The women came back, and Manolo poured their coffee.

"Did Marc Blumberg see you today?" Stone asked Arrington.

"He came in time for lunch, and by the time he left, I was prepped,' as he put it. Sounds as though someone had shaved my pubic hair and painted my belly orange."

Dino made a face. "Such imagery! Only a woman could put it that way."

"Men are such babies," Mary A

"And I wouldn't want to try," Dino said.

They chatted for another hour, then Stone rose and a

Arrington walked Stone to the door. "I'm sorry about my behavior last time," she said. "I realize now that it wasn't your fault, that you were the victim."

"Hardly that," Stone said. "I knew what I was getting into."

"No, you didn't," She said at the door, resting her head on his shoulder. "You never do."

Stone put a finger under her chin, raised her head, and kissed her lightly. "I'm glad you and I are all right again."

"So am I."

"If it's any help, I'm already working on an Italian divorce."

"Any kind will do."

"I'd better go."

"Good night, sweet prince."

"And angels sing me to my rest? Not just yet, I hope."

He walked toward the car, then he stopped and turned. She was still standing in the doorway. "Arrington?"

"Yes?"

"I seem to recall that you never wore terrycloth robes."

"What a good memory you have. I always liked plain cotton or silk. What an odd thing to remember."

"Oh, I remember a lot more," he said, as he waved good night and got into the car.

All the way back to Centurion he thought about what she used to wear.

Chapter 53

The following morning Marc Blumberg called and asked Stone to come to his office to discuss the motion to dismiss. Stone left Centurion and on his way passed the spot where he'd had the flat tire, reminding him that he had left the damaged tire at a service station for repair. He stopped to pick it up, and as he opened the trunk he saw Felipe Cordova's Nikes. He'd completely forgotten about them.

He arrived at Blumberg's office and was shown in and given coffee, while Marc finished a meeting in his conference room. Shortly, the lawyer came into his office and sat down at his desk.

"So," said Stone, "what's your plan? Who are we going to call?"

"Nobody," Marc replied. "That's my plan."

"Come again?"

"My plan is to cross-examine the prosecution's witnesses to within an inch of their lives. After all, it's they who have to make a case, not we."

"You don't think we ought to try?" Stone asked doubtfully.

"Let me ask you something, Stone: Can we prove Arrington didn't shoot Vance?"

"Maybe not."

"If we could prove she didn't do it, wed be home free, but we can't. So we're going to have to cast so much doubt on the prosecution's case that the judge will throw it out."

"And how are we going to do that?" Stone asked.

"I know Beverly Walters better than you," Marc replied.

"How well, Marc?"

"Well enough, trust me."

"All right, I'll trust you."

"Have you got any other ideas about how we might proceed?"

Stone took a deep breath. "I think we ought to call Felipe Cordova."

"I thought he was lost in darkest Mexico."

"He was, but he's back in LA. Brandy Garcia gave me a heads up."

"Doesn't it bother you that the prosecution would call Cordova, if they knew what we knew about his actions that night?"

"No."

"Stone, we're going to have Beverly Walters on the stand saying she saw Arrington shoot Vance, while Arrington doesn't remember what she did or didn't do. Cordova is just going to back up Beverly's story, isn't he?"

"I don't think so," Stone said.

"And why not?"

"A couple of reasons. First, Vanessa Pike told me she drove Beverly to the Calder house, and that Beverly saw what happened from the rear of the house, at the doors to the pool."

"Wait a minute. What Vanessa told you was that she drove somebody to Vance's; she didn't say who."

"But we know it was Beverly."

"How do we know that?"

"Because Charlene Joiner says that the two of them left her house together that evening, after a day lying around the pool."