L.A. Dead

"It seems clear that Arrington is undergoing periods of anterograde amnesia, brought on by the shock of her husband's murder. Anterograde amnesia is a condition during which the great mass of old memories, prior to a certain point, remain intact, while the subject does not have access to more recent memories, or those memories are intermittent or scrambled-this, as opposed to retrograde amnesia, during which the subject may lose memory of all prior events, even her identity."

"Forgive me, Jim, are you a psychologist?"

"A psychiatrist. This is, primarily, a psychiactric clinic, although we do some work with patients who have substance abuse problems."

"Is Arrington likely to recover all her memory?"

"Yes, if the basis for her amnesia is emotional, not physical, and that seems the case. Her mother had spoken with her on the previous Sunday and said that at that time she seemed perfectly normal. If she should show signs of not recovering her memory, then I think a brain scan would be in order, to rule out a physical basis for her problem."

"Does she know that Vance is dead?"

"That's hard to say; I haven't asked her that, direcdy, and when the police came here, I refused to allow her to be questioned."

"You did the right thing," Stone said.

"Arrington seems to have an idea that something may be wrong, but she tends to divert the conversation if it heads in a direction she doesn't want it to go. She may very well be, unconsciously, protecting herself emotionally from a situation which she is not yet ready to confront."

"I see. Perhaps it's time to explain to her what has happened?"

"Perhaps it is. She'll have to be told sooner or later, and since she seems to have an emotional attachment to you, it might be best that she hear it from you."

"All right. Jim, I should tell you that, for the moment, I am acting as Arrington's attorney, as well as her friend, and that, given the circumstances, you may be asked questions by the police. Should that occur, I advise you to rest on doctor-patient confidentiality and decline to answer. At a later date, with Arrington's concurrence, I may ask you to give a statement to the police or the district attorney."

"I understand completely."

"Shall we go and see Arrington, then?"

"Please follow me." Judson led the way from his office, down a hallway to the last door on the right-hand side. He knocked softly.

"Come in," a woman's voice replied.

Judson opened the door. "Arrington, I've brought someone to see you," he said. He stepped aside and ushered Stone into the room.

The room appeared much like a guest room in a sumptuous home, except for the elevated hospital bed. On the far side of the room, a cabinet had, apparently, once held a television set, which had been removed. Sunlight streamed through the windows, which were open above a garden at the rear of the house. Arrington sat up in bed and held out her arms. "Stone!" she cried.

Stone went to her and took her in his arms, kissing her on the cheek. To his surprise, she turned his head and gave him a wet kiss on the mouth. Stone glanced at the doctor, who evinced surprise.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Much better. For a while, all I was doing was sleeping. What took you so long to get here?"

"I had to come a great distance," he replied. "Do you feel well enough to talk for a while?"

"Yes, I do; I feel very well, actually. I'm not quite sure why Dr. Jud-son is keeping me here."

"Your mother came to see you yesterday, remember?"

"Of course. We had a very nice visit. I'm sorry to have alarmed her; it was a long way for her to come, to find me perfectly well."

"She wanted to be sure Peter was all right without you."

Arrington's face clouded slightly. "Yes, she told me. I'm a little confused about that."

"How so?"

"Well, apparently-this is very embarrassing-I had forgotten that I'm his mother."

"That's all right," the doctor interjected. "Don't worry about that."

"Did you remember who Peter's father is?"

"Yes, after I was prompted, I'm ashamed to say. Stone, I'm so sorry; I wanted a chance to explain to you about Vance and me. I wrote to you in St. Mark's, but I suppose you must have already left there by the time the letter arrived. Can I explain?"

"Yes, go ahead," Stone said, sitting on the side of the bed.

She took his hand in both of hers. "Stone, I think I knew that you were going to ask me to marry you when I arrived in St. Mark's. Am I right, or am I being presumptuous?"

"You're right; I was going to ask you. I had a ring, even."

"I think I felt… a little panic about that, as if I weren't really ready to be your wife. I think that may be why I missed the first flight. The snowstorm was something of a relief, I'm afraid."

"You were a free woman," Stone said. "You didn't have to marry me."

"Then Vance arrived in town, and although we'd known each other before, something was different this time."

Stone recalled that Arrington had been with Vance, at a di

"We spent all our time together, working on the interview, which turned into a very long conversation about everything in the world, and before I knew it, we were in love. I can't explain it; it just happened."

"It's like that, sometimes," Stone said.

"Do you hate me for it?"

"I could never hate you."

"Oh, I'm so relieved," she said, squeezing his hand. "I don't think I could be happy without you in my life-as a friend, I mean." She blushed a little.

"I feel the same way," Stone said. "And it's because I'm your friend that I have to tell you some things, now." Stone took a deep breath, looked directly into her large eyes, and told her.

Chapter 9

Arrington stared at Stone as he spoke, her eyes wide and unblinking. Gradually, tears rimmed her eyes, then spilled down her cheeks. She seemed unable to speak.

Stone stopped talking for a moment. "Do you remember any of this?" he asked.

She shook her head, spilling more tears.

"What's the last thing you remember before Saturday?" Dr. Judson asked.

She closed her eyes tightly. "Someone cutting the grass," she said.

"And what day was that?"

"I'm not sure. I had a brief conversation with… Geraldo, his name is. I asked him not to cut the grass quite so closely. We agreed on two inches; I remember that."

"Do you remember what plans you and Vance had for Saturday night?" Judson asked.

She shook her head. "I'd have to look at the book."

"What book is that?"

"The book that Vance and I keep our schedules together in. I have my own book, too, for things I don't do with him, and he has his own book that Betty keeps."

"And who is Betty?"

"Betty Southard, his personal assistant; she works in his office at the studio."

"What were you doing immediately before you spoke to Geraldo?" the doctor asked.

"I was cutting flowers in the garden," she said.

"And what did you do after you finished cutting the flowers and speaking to Geraldo?"

Her shoulders sagged. "I don't remember. I suppose I must have gone back into the house, but I can't remember doing it."

"What jewelry had you pla

"Diamonds," she replied. "It was black tie."

"Who was the host?"

"What?"

"The host of the di

"What di

"The one on Saturday night."

She looked lost. "I don't remember."

"Did you take your jewelry out of the safe?"

"I don't know."

"What is the last thing you remember Vance saying to you?" Judson asked.

"He said I should wear the diamonds. He was taking his jewelry box out of the safe; I remember that."