L.A. Dead

"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 co

"I'm afraid we have no guest by that name or anything like it," the woman said.

"In that case, please take my name-Stone Barrington-and tell Mrs. Calder that I'm at the Bel-Air Hotel, when she feels like calling."

"Good night," the woman said, and hung up.

The bellman arrived with the luggage and the papers. "Shall I unpack anything, Mr. Barrington?" he asked.

"You can hang up the suits in the large case," Stone said. The man did as he was asked, Stone tipped him, and he left.

Stone picked up the papers. Vance had made the lower-right-hand corner of The New York Times front page and the upper-right-hand corner of the Los Angeles Times. The obituary in the LA. paper took up a whole page. There was nothing in the news report he didn't already know.

Stone ordered an omelet from room service and ate it slowly, trying to stay awake, hoping Arrington would call. At eleven o'clock, he gave up and went to bed.

Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

Chapter 7

The telephone woke Stone. He checked the bedside clock: just after nine a.m. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Is this Stone Barrington?" Yes.

"This is Dr. James Judson, of the Judson Clinic."

"Good morning. How is Arrington?"

"She's been asking for you. I'm sorry the woman who answered the telephone last night didn't know that."

"When can I see her?"

"She's still sleeping at the moment, but why don't you come over here around noon? If she isn't awake by then, I'll wake her, and the two of you can talk."

"What is her condition?"

"Surprisingly good, but there are complications; we can talk about that when you arrive." He gave Stone the address.

"I'll see you at noon," Stone said. He hung up, then pressed the button for the concierge and ordered a rental car for eleven-thirty, then he called room service and ordered a large breakfast. While he was waiting for it to arrive, he called Centurion Studios and asked for Lou Regenstein, its chairman.

"Good morning, executive offices," a woman's voice said.

"Lou Regenstein, please; this is Stone Barrington."

"May I ask what this is about?"

"He'll know." Stone had met Regenstein the year before, when he was in Los Angeles on another matter involving Vance and Arrington.

A moment later, Regenstein was on the line. "Stone, I'm so glad to hear from you; you've heard what's happened, I'm sure."

"That's why I'm here; I got in last evening."

"I've been going nuts; the police won't tell me where Arrington is, and the coroner won't release Vance's body to a funeral home without her permission."

"Arrington is in a hospital; I'm going to see her at noon today."

"Is she all right? Was she hurt in the shooting?"

"She's fine, from all accounts. I'll be talking to her doctor, too."

"What can I do to help?"

"Lou, who is the best criminal lawyer in L.A.?"

"Marc Blumberg, hands down; does Arrington need him?"

"Yes, if only to contain the situation."

"He's a personal friend of mine; I'll call him right now. Where can he see Arrington?"

"I want to see her before she talks to another lawyer," Stone said. "Tell Blumberg to expect a call from me at some point, and to deny that he's representing Arrington, if the press should call in the meantime."

"All right." Regenstein gave him Blumberg's number. "Remember, Stone, Centurion is at Arrington's disposal-anything she needs; you, too. Look, I've had an idea: You're going to need some place to get things done while you're here. I'll make Vance's bungalow available to you for as long as you need it."

"Thank you, Lou; it would be good to have some office facilities."

"You remember Vance's secretary, Betty Southard?"

Indeed he did; Stone and Betty had spent considerable time together during his last visit to town, much of it in bed. "Of course."