L.A. Dead Part 17

"I was just hugging her," he lied.

"Come on, I'll show you." She led the way down a hall and into a comfortably furnished bedroom with an adjacent bath and dressing room. "Want me to unpack for you?" she asked.

"Thanks, I can manage," he replied, laughing. "Go back to your mail; I want to get dressed." Betty left the room, and Stone got out of the swimsuit and into some clothes.

Betty appeared in the doorway. "Marc Blumberg's holding a press conference on TV." She switched on a set at the foot of the bed, and the two of them sat down to watch it as, on television, a secretary opened a set of double doors and the press poured into Blumberg's office, where he awaited them, seated behind an impressive desk.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," Blumberg said, remaining seated. "I have a brief statement for you regarding the investigation into the death of Vance Calder. Can we hold the flash cameras until I've finished, please?"

When everything had quieted down, Blumberg began. "I have been retained by Vance Calder's widow, Arrington, to represent her during the investigation of her husband's death, not because she has anything to fear from the investigation, but because she wants to be sure that the Los Angeles Police Department is leaving no stone unturned in the pursuit of her husband's murderer."

"What about the photograph in today's Inquisitor Inquisitor?" somebody asked.

"I'll get to that in a minute," Blumberg replied. "Now, if I may continue?" He stared the room into silence. "Good. This is what we know so far: Last Sat.u.r.day night, Mr. and Mrs. Calder were getting ready to go to a dinner party at the home of Lou Regenstein, chairman of Centurion Studios. Mr. Calder was dressing, and Mrs. Calder was in the bathtub. A servant heard a loud noise, and when he investigated, found Mr. Calder lying in the central hallway of the house, near death, having received a gunshot wound to the head. The servant summoned the police and an ambulance, then sent a maid to let Mrs. Calder know what had happened.

"When Mrs. Calder saw her husband, she collapsed and had to be treated for shock by the paramedics when they arrived. Her personal physician was summoned; he sedated her and arranged for her to be moved immediately to a private clinic, where she remained until yesterday. She asked for a family friend, a New York attorney, Mr. Stone Barrington, to come to Los Angeles to handle her affairs, and Mr. Barrington was summoned from Italy, where he was on vacation.

"When Mr. Barrington arrived, he spoke with Mrs. Calder's physician about her condition and learned that she was unable to remember anything that had happened between midafternoon last Friday and the time when she awoke in the clinic on Sunday morning. The moment Mrs. Calder was up to it, Mr. Barrington invited the police to interview her at the clinic, and yesterday, he picked her up there and took her to her Malibu home, where he hoped she might have some privacy to continue her recovery.

"Sadly, a tabloid photographer violated her privacy and photographed her with Mr. Barrington as she took the sun on a rear deck of the house. Mr. Barrington then left the house, giving her a hug before leaving, and that, ladies and gentlemen, was the photograph that was so outrageously misrepresented in the tabloid's pages.

"I am sorry to tell you that, as of this moment, the LAPD is treating Mrs. Calder as a suspect, and that later in the week, she will be interviewed by the district attorney's office. In antic.i.p.ation of that meeting I arranged yesterday for her to receive a thorough polygraph examination from Mr. Harold Beame, formerly with the FBI, who is a renowned examiner. I am pleased to tell you that Mr. Beame has reported that, in his expert opinion, Mrs. Calder answered truthfully every question put to her. I can tell you that they were very tough questions; I know, because I wrote them myself."

This got a laugh from the group.

"However, when we meet with the district attorney, I intend to volunteer Mrs. Calder for another polygraph, administered by a qualified examiner of his choosing. Further, at that meeting, Mrs. Calder will answer every question put to her by members of the district attorney's office.

"Finally, Mrs. Calder has authorized me to offer a reward of $100,000 for any information leading to the arrest and conviction of her husband's killer." He held up a placard with a telephone number on it. "We ask that anyone with such information call both the police and and this number. We wouldn't want anything to get lost in the shuffle at the LAPD." this number. We wouldn't want anything to get lost in the shuffle at the LAPD."

Another laugh.

"That's all I have to tell you, at the moment, and I won't be answering any questions today. However, you may rest a.s.sured that I will be in contact with the media when there is anything of significance to report."

With that, Blumberg got up and marched out of his office, ignoring the questions shouted by the crowd.

Betty switched off the set. "Well, I guess that puts the ball in the D.A.'s court, doesn't it?"

"I believe it does," Stone agreed. "That was a very impressive performance."

"Did you approve the reward?"

"No, but I would have, if asked. I think it's a good idea. It might turn up something and, at the very least, it will keep the police busy with leads from people who want the money."

A phone on the bedside table rang, and Betty answered it. "It's Marc Blumberg," she said, handing Stone the phone.

"Hi, Marc; I saw your press conference. Very good, and you have my approval on the reward money."

"I thought I would have," Blumberg answered. "I want to meet with Arrington this afternoon; where shall we do it?"

"How about three o'clock at her house? You know where it is?"

"Yes, and that's fine."

"There's a utility entrance at the rear of the property. . . ."

"No," Blumberg interrupted, "I'll go in the front way; let the press see me."

"Whatever you think best."

"Just keep that phrase in mind, and we'll get along great, Stone. See you at three." He hung up.

The phone rang again immediately, and Betty answered it. "It's Arrington," she said, handing Stone the phone again.

"Hi."

"I just saw Marc Blumberg on TV; was that your idea?"

"No, it was his, but I wholeheartedly approve."

"I haven't seen this rag, but I take it the photographer I saw was responsible."

"Yes; that should give you some idea of how careful you have to be. Marc Blumberg is coming to the house at three this afternoon; be ready to meet him, and don't wear a bikini."

She laughed. "Touche. Will you be here?"

"Yes."

"See you then."

Stone hung up and turned to Betty. "Will you make some notes on the tenor of the mail you're receiving? I expect Blumberg will want to know about it."

"Sure; I'll go add it all up now." Betty left the room.

Stone finished dressing. For the first time, he was beginning to feel some optimism about the way things were going. Marc Blumberg was a considerable force, when aroused, and Stone was glad to have him on Arrington's side.

Twenty-two.

HE HAD BEEN DREADING THIS CALL, BUT HE COULDN'T put it off any longer. Stone dialed Eduardo Bianchi's private telephone number in New York. As usual, he got only the beep from an answering machine, no message.

"Eduardo, it's Stone Barrington. I would be grateful if you could call me sometime today; there's something important I have to talk to you about." He left the numbers of both the bungalow and the Calder house.

Then he called Dino. He could not remember when so much time had pa.s.sed without a conversation with his friend, and he knew he had been putting off this one, because he knew what Dino would say.

"She's guilty," Dino said, after Stone had brought him up to date.

"No, she's not."

"You just don't want to believe it, because you think she killed him so she could have you."

Stone winced at the truth. "She pa.s.sed a polygraph yesterday, aced it," he said lamely.

"Yeah, I saw Blumberg's press conference on CNN. I don't believe it; she must have been on drugs, or something."

"The examiner told me drugs couldn't fool him." It had occurred to him that Arrington had seemed eerily calm since she had left the clinic.

"Look, Stone, I've been getting updates from Rick Grant, and while they may not have her cold, his people really believe she whacked her husband."

"I'm aware of their opinion," Stone said. "But don't judge her so soon. I'm here, on the spot, up to my ears in this, and my instincts tell me she's innocent."

"Stone, n.o.body's innocent innocent, you know that. Everybody's guilty of something something."

"Not murder; not Arrington. She doesn't have it in her."

"Whatever you say, pal."

"There's something else."

"What?"

"I ended it with Dolce last night."

"Good news, at last! What made you see the light?"

"We had a transatlantic conversation that I didn't like the tone of, for one thing."

"And Arrington's free, for another thing?"

"There is that," Stone admitted sheepishly. "It was something I hadn't expected."

"Have you told Eduardo?"

"I have a call in to him now."

"That should be an interesting conversation."

"Any advice as to how I should handle it?"

"Oh, I don't know; how do you feel about South America?"

"Come on, Dino; how should I break it to him?"

"Right between the eyes, dead straight; he might respect that."

"I hope so."

"Then again, he might not. He dotes on that girl; if he thinks you've done her wrong, well . . ."

"Well, what?"

"You might not be well for very long."

"Dino, this isn't Sicily."

"To Eduardo, everywhere everywhere is Sicily." is Sicily."

"I see your point," Stone said.

"I think everything is going to depend on what Dolce says to Eduardo," Dino said. "How p.i.s.sed off was she when you broke it to her?"

"Pretty p.i.s.sed off."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Maybe she'll cool off before she talks to the old man."

"Maybe."

"For your sake, I hope so."

"Thanks."

"You want me to take some time off, come out there?"

"I don't know what you could do, Dino, except keep me company. That, I wouldn't mind."

"You let me know if something comes up and you need me, okay?"

"Okay."

"I got a meeting; talk to you later."

Stone hung up. Why did everybody think Arrington was guilty, except him? Was he completely nuts? Blinded by how he felt about her? He made himself a sandwich in the bungalow's kitchen, then went into Betty's office. "How's the mail coming?"

Betty consulted a steno pad. "Nearly done," she said, "and opinion is running about two to one against Arrington."

"Swell," Stone said. He looked at his watch. "I've got to run; I'm meeting Marc Blumberg at the house."