by Stuart Woods
“Eduardo!” Stone said, surprised. He had almost never seen the man anywhere except on his own turf. “Come in.”
“Thank you, Stone. I’m sorry to barge in, but I heard you were back from California, and I wonder if you could spare me a few minutes?”
“Of course,” Stone said, taking the umbrella, and helping the older man off with his coat. “Come on back to my study. Would you like some coffee?”
“Thank you, yes,” Eduardo replied, rubbing his hands together briskly. “It’s terrible out there.”
Stone settled him in a chair in his study, then made some espresso and brought in a pot and two cups on a tray.
“So, you’re back in New York for a while, I hope?” Eduardo asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Stone said. He explained the problem with the roof. “I have some clients to see, too, then I have to get back to L.A. I’m afraid Arrington still needs me there.”
“Ah, Arrington,” Eduardo said slowly. “A most unfortunate situation for her. Do you think she will be acquitted?”
“I think she’s innocent, and I’ll do everything I can to see that she is. Marc Blumberg, an L.A. lawyer, is her lead counsel; I’m just advising.”
Eduardo nodded. “I know Marc; he’s a good man, right for this.”
Stone was not surprised, since Eduardo seemed to know everybody on both coasts. He waited for his near-father-in-law to come to the point of his visit.
“Dolce is back, too,” he said.
“I know,” Stone replied. “I caught a glimpse of her on the airplane, but we didn’t talk.”
Eduardo shook his head. “This is all very sad,” he said. “I do not like seeing her so upset.”
“I’m very sorry for upsetting her,” Stone said, “but I could not do otherwise under the circumstances.”
“What are your intentions toward Arrington?” Eduardo asked, as if he had the right to.
“Quite frankly, I don’t know,” Stone said. “She has some serious difficulties to overcome, and, if Blumberg and I are successful in defending her, I don’t know what her plans are after that. I’m not sure she knows, either.”
“And your plans?”
“I haven’t made any. Every time I do, it all seems to come back to Arrington, one way or another.”
“You are in love with her, then?”
Stone sighed. He had been avoiding the question. “I think I have to finally face the fact that I have been for a long time.”
“Why did you not marry her when you had the opportunity?” Eduardo asked.
“I intended to,” Stone replied. “We were going on a sailing holiday together in the islands. I had planned to pop the question down there. She was delayed in joining me, because she had been asked to write a magazine piece about Vance. The next thing I knew, they were married.”
Eduardo nodded. “Vance could do that,” he said. “He was a very powerful personality, difficult for a young woman to resist.” Eduardo set down his coffee cup and crossed his legs. “Now we come to Dolce,” he said. “My daughter is very unhappy. What are your intentions toward her?”
Stone took a deep breath. “Dolce and I have talked about this,” he said. “I’ve told her that I think it would be a terrible mistake for both of us, should we marry.”
“Why?” Eduardo asked, and his eyes had narrowed.
“This business with Arrington has taught me that I’m not free of her,” Stone replied, “as I thought I was. Vance’s sudden death was a great shock, and not just because I liked him.”
“Arrington is once again available, then?”
“Well, she’s no longer married.”
“Has she expressed an interest in rekindling your relationship with her?”
“Yes,” Stone said, surprising himself with his willingness to discuss this with Eduardo.
“And there is the child,” Eduardo said.
“Yes; there was a time when we both thought he might be mine, but the blood tests . . .”
“And who conducted these tests?” Eduardo asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Indulge me, please.”
Stone went to his desk and rummaged in a bottom drawer. The report was still there. He handed it to Eduardo.
Eduardo read the document carefully. “This would seem conclusive,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Who employed these ‘Hemolab’ people?” he asked, reading the name of the laboratory from the letterhead.
“Arrington, I suppose.”
Eduardo nodded and handed back the document and stood up. “I am sorry to have taken your time, Stone,” he said, “but I had to explore this with you in order to know what to do.”
Stone wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “You are always welcome here, Eduardo.”
“Thank you,” he replied.
Stone followed him to the door, helped him on with his coat, and handed him his umbrella.
“Dolce is ill, you know,” Eduardo said suddenly.
“What? What’s wrong with her?”
“Her heart is ill; it has always been so, I think. I had hoped you could make her well, but I see, now, that it will not happen.”
“What can I do to help, Eduardo?”
“Nothing, I think, short of marrying her, and after what you have told me today, I think that would destroy both of you.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
Eduardo turned and looked at Stone, and his eyes were ineffably sad. “You can only keep away from her,” he said. “I think she may be . . . dangerous.” Then, without another word, he turned and walked down the steps and back to his car.
Stone watched as the limousine moved off down the street, and the shiver that ran through him was not caused by the dampness.
Thirty-one
STONE MET WITH HIS ANXIOUS CLIENTS AND SOOTHED their nerves. He spoke to the insurance agent and got approval to begin repairs, then, because he could not bear to look at his damaged house, he went downtown to ABC Carpets and picked out new ones, arranging for their people to measure and install them. As he got in and out of taxicabs, he caught himself looking around to see if he had unwanted company, but he did not see Dolce.
At half past eight he was at Elaine’s, giving her a kiss on arrival and being shown to his usual table.
Elaine sat down for a minute. “So,” she said, “you’re up to your ass in this Vance Calder thing.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I always liked Arrington,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought she could kill anybody.”
“I don’t think she did.”
“Can you prove it?”
“I guess the only way I can prove that is by proving somebody else did it. Otherwise, even if she’s tried and acquitted, too many people will believe she’s guilty, and a smart lawyer got her off.”
“I hear she’s got a smart lawyer—besides you, I mean.”
“That’s right; he’s doing a good job, so far.”
“Stone.” She looked at him sadly.
“Yes?”
“Sometimes people do things you wouldn’t think they could do. People get stressed, you know, and the cork pops.”
Stone nodded.
“If you want to get through this okay, you’d better get used to the idea that you may be wrong about her.”
“I don’t think I am.”
“Protect yourself; don’t tear out your guts hoping.”
It was the first advice he’d ever gotten from her. “I’ll try,” he said. He looked up to see Dino and Mary Ann coming through the door. He especially wanted to see Mary Ann.
Everybody hugged, kissed, sat down, and ordered drinks.
“You got a little sun,” Dino said, inspecting him.
“Out there, you get it just walking around.”
Elaine got up to greet some customers, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she left.
“What was that?” Dino asked.
“Encouragement,” Stone replied. “
I think she thinks Arrington did it.”
“Doesn’t everybody?” Dino asked.
“Do you?”
“Let’s put it this way: I think I’m probably more objective about it than you are.”
“Oh.”
“Let me ask you something, Stone: If you all of a sudden found out for sure that she did it, would you try to get her off, anyway?”
“That’s my job.”
“You’re not her lawyer; Blumberg is.”
Stone looked into his drink. “It’s still my job.”
“Oh,” Dino said, “it’s like that.”
“Well!” Mary Ann interjected. “Isn’t it nice to all be together again, and right here at home!”
“Don’t try to cheer him up,” Dino said to his wife. “It won’t work.”
Michael, the headwaiter, brought menus, and they studied them silently for a minute, then ordered. Stone ordered another drink, too.
“Two before dinner,” Dino said.
“He’s entitled,” Mary Ann pointed out.
They chatted in a desultory manner until dinner arrived, then ate, mostly in silence.
“Mary Ann,” Stone said, when the dishes had been taken away, “your father came to see me this afternoon.”
“He did?” she asked, surprised. “Where?”
“At my house.”
“That’s interesting,” she said. “He doesn’t do much calling on people. What did he want?”
“To know my intentions toward Arrington and Dolce.”
“Is that all? What did you tell him?”
“That I don’t know what my intentions are toward Arrington, but that Dolce and I are not getting married.”
“That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, I’m sure.”
“I know, but I had to be honest with him.”
“That’s always the best policy with Papa.”
“When he left, he said something that scared me a little.”
Dino spoke up. “That’s what he does best.”
“What did he say?” Mary Ann asked.
“He said Dolce is ill, and that she might be dangerous.”
“Oh,” Mary Ann said quietly.
“What did he mean by that?”
Mary Ann didn’t seem to be able to look at him.
“I think Stone needs to know, honey,” Dino said. “Answer his question.”
Mary Ann sighed. “When Dolce doesn’t get what she wants, she . . . reacts badly.”
“Now, there’s news,” Dino snorted.
“Exactly how does she react badly?” Stone asked.
“She, ah, breaks things,” Mary Ann said slowly. “People, too.”
“Go on.”
“When she was, I guess, six, Papa gave her a puppy. She tried to train it, but it wouldn’t do what she told it to. It was like she expected it to understand complete sentences, you know? Well, she . . . I don’t want to say what she did.”
“She broke the puppy?” Dino asked.
“Sort of,” Mary Ann replied. Her face made it clear she wasn’t going to say any more.
“I think she’s been stalking me,” Stone said.
“What?” Mary Ann said.
“She’s shown up in a couple of places where I was. Unexpectedly, you might say. She registered at the Bel-Air as Mrs. Stone Barrington. She was on my flight home last night.”
“Oh, shit,” Dino breathed.
“I thought about trying to talk to her again, but I don’t even want to be in the same room with her.”
“That’s a good policy,” Dino said.
“I don’t know what to do,” Stone admitted.
“I’d watch my back, if I were you,” Dino said. “Remember what happened to the husband . . .”
“Oh, shut up, Dino,” Mary Ann spat. “She’s my sister; don’t talk that way about her.”
“I’m sorry, hon, but Stone’s in a jam, here, and we’ve got to help him figure this out.”
“Well, you’re not helping by . . . what you’re saying.”
“Are you carrying?” Dino asked.
“Dino!” his wife nearly shouted.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if Dolce is,” Dino continued, ignoring her.
“No, I’m not,” Stone said. “I don’t think it’s come to that.”
“Listen, Stone,” Dino said. “At the point when it comes to that, it’s going to be too late to go home and get a piece.”
Their waiter stepped up with a dessert tray.
“Nothing for me,” Stone said.
“I’ll have the cheesecake,” Dino said.
“Nothing for him,” Mary Ann said, pointing a thumb at her husband. “Especially not the cheesecake.”
Dino sighed.
“Nothing for anybody,” Mary Ann said to the waiter.
They got a check, and declined the offer of an after-dinner drink from Elaine. Dino grabbed the check and signed it, before Stone could react.
“That’s completely out of character, Dino,” Stone said, chuckling.
“Who knows how many more opportunities I’ll have,” Dino replied, getting an elbow in the ribs from Mary Ann for his trouble.
They made their farewells to Elaine and started out of the restaurant. As they shuffled toward the door, Stone felt Dino slip something fairly heavy into his coat pocket.
“Don’t leave home without it,” Dino whispered.
Thirty-two
STONE REACHED INTO HIS COAT POCKET, TOOK OUT THE pistol, and placed it on the bedside table. It was a little .32 automatic, not a service weapon, but the kind of small gun a cop might keep in an ankle holster, as a backup.
He undressed, got into bed, and tried to watch the late news, but finally turned it off. He was still groggy from the sleep upset of taking the red-eye, and the conversation at dinner had depressed him.
He drifted off immediately and fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed, and something was out of place in his dream—a high-pitched squeal, as if from a great distance. Then the squeal stopped.
Stone sat straight up in bed, wide awake. The squeal was the sound the security system made to warn that it was about to go off; it stopped only when the proper four-digit code was entered, and it had stopped. Then he remembered that Dolce knew the code.
He got out of bed as silently as he could and rearranged the pillows under the duvet, to give the impression he was still in bed, then he picked up Dino’s pistol, tiptoed to his dressing room, and stood just inside the door. There was enough light coming through the windows to let him see the bed.
He heard the light footsteps on the stairs, which were now bare of the carpet runner. They approached slowly, quietly, until they reached the bedroom, where they stopped. She was letting her eyes become accustomed to the nearly dark room. Then she began to move forward again, and she came into Stone’s view.
She was wearing a black raincoat with the hood up, so her face was still in darkness, and Stone thought she looked like the angel of death; she carried a short, thick club in her right hand. She reached the bed and stopped, then, holding the club at her side, she reached out with her left hand and began to pull back the covers.
“Freeze!” Stone said. “There’s a gun pointed at your head.”
She turned slowly to face him, but the shadow of the hood still obscured her face.
“Drop what’s in your hand,” he said.
She released the club, and it fell to the bare wood floor with a soft thud.
“Now, reach behind you and turn on the lamp, and keep your hands where I can see them.”
She turned away and switched on the lamp, then turned back toward him, brushing off the hood. Instead of the black, Sicilian coif Stone had expected, honey-colored hair fell around her shoulders.
“Why are you pointing a gun at me, Stone?” she asked.
Stone’s mouth fell open. “Arrington! What the hell are you doing here?”
“Could you point the gun somewhere else before we continue this conversation?”
S
tone put the pistol on the dressing room chest of drawers and turned back to her.
She looked down, amused. “You’re still pointing something at me,” she said, unbuckling her belt and shucking off the raincoat. She was wearing black slacks and a soft, gray cashmere sweater. At her feet, on the floor, was the folding umbrella she had dropped.
Stone grabbed a cotton robe from the dressing room and slipped into it.
“Aw,” she said, disappointed, “I liked you as you were. Don’t I get a kiss?”
Stone crossed the room and gave her a small kiss, then held her at arm’s length. “I’ll ask you again: What the hell are you doing here?”
“Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“Of course not! You’ve jumped bail, for God’s sake, don’t you understand that? The judge confined you to your house!”
“Don’t worry—he’ll never miss me.”
“Arrington, let me explain this to you. As of this moment, you’ve forfeited two million dollars in bail.”
“It’s worth it to see you,” she said. “I missed you.”
“You could be arrested at any moment, and if you are, you won’t get bail again; you’ll have to stay in jail until the trial.”
“Nobody’s going to arrest me,” she said. “Nobody knows I’m out of the house, except Manolo and Isabel, and certainly nobody knows I’m in New York. Manolo has instructions to tell anyone who calls that I’m not feeling well, and to take a message. I can return any calls from here.”
Stone sat down on the edge of the bed and put his face in his hands. “I’m an officer of the court,” he moaned. “I’m supposed to call the police or arrest you myself.”
“Oooooo, arrest me,” she purred.
Stone heard the sound of a zipper and looked up. She was stepping out of her slacks, and she had already shucked off the sweater, leaving only her panties.
She looked around, hands on her hips. “Now where are those pesky handcuffs? You must have some around here somewhere, being an ex-cop, and all.”
Stone put his face back in his hands, and a moment later he felt her slip into the bed. Her fingernails moved down his back, and he started to get up, but she grabbed the belt of his robe and pulled him back onto the bed.
