L.A. Dead Part 7

"Will you be dining here, then?"

"Yes, I think I will," Stone said.

"I'll tell the cook."

"Something simple, please; a steak will be fine."

"Of course."

Stone helped Mrs. Carter and Peter into the van, then got into his own car. They made it out the back way undetected.

Ten.

STONE SAW MRS. CARTER AND PETER OFF ON THE CENTURION jet, then returned to the Bel-Air, checked out, left his rent-a-car with the parking attendant, and took a cab back to the Calder residence. He had thought of returning through the rear entrance, but he didn't want a cabdriver to know about that, so he called Manolo and asked him to be ready to open the front gate. There was only a single television van at the gate when he arrived, and the occupants took an immediate interest in him, but before they could reach the cab with a camera, he was safely inside. Before he got out of the cab, he handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill. "That's for not talking to the TV people about who you delivered here," he said.

"Thank you, sir," the man said, "but I don't know who you are, anyway."

"Just don't stop when you go out the gate."

Manolo and a maid took Stone's bags through the central hallway of the house, out the back, and around the pool to the guesthouse. Stone thought the little house was even nicer than the suite at the Bel-Air. While the maid unpacked for him and pressed his clothes, Stone walked back into the house with Manolo.

"You said you wished to speak with me, Mr. Barrington?"

"Yes, Manolo; it's important that I know everything that happened here on Sat.u.r.day night. Please tell me what you saw and heard."

"I was in my quarters, a little cottage out behind the kitchen entrance, when I heard a noise."

"How would you characterize the noise?"

"A bang. I didn't react at first, but I was curious, so I left my quarters, entered the house through the kitchen door and walked into the central hall." He led the way into the house.

"Which door did you come through?" Stone asked.

"That one," Manolo replied, pointing to a door down the hall.

"And what did you see and hear?"

"I saw Mr. Calder lying right there," he said. "He was lying. . . . He . . ."

"Can you show me?"

"Yessir." Manolo walked to the spot and lay down on his side, then rolled partly onto his belly. "Like this," he said. "Can I get up, now?"

"Yes, of course."

Manolo stood up. "He had a hole in his head here," he said, pointing to the right rear of his own head. "It was bleeding."

"Did you think he was alive?"

"Yessir, he was. I felt his pulse in his neck."

"What did you do then?"

"I went to the phone there," he pointed to a table, "and called nine-one-one and asked for the police and an ambulance quick."

"What next?"

"The maid, Isabel, came into the hall from the kitchen; I told her to go and see if Mrs. Calder was all right, and she went toward the master suite, there, through the living room, and through that door."

"How much time elapsed between the time you heard the shot and the time you found Mr. Calder?"

"I didn't go right away; I kept listening and wondering if I had heard what I heard. I expect it may have been two or three minutes."

"Which-two or three?"

"Closer to three, I guess. I wasn't running."

"Were those doors open?" Stone asked, pointing to the French doors that led to the pool, guesthouse, and gardens.

"One of them was," Manolo said. "It was wide open, in a way it wouldn't ordinarily be. Normally, it would either be closed, or both doors would be latched open."

"What happened next?"

"Mrs. Calder came running into the hall with the maid; she was wearing a robe and dripping water."

"What did she do or say?"

"She yelled out, 'Vance!' and then she got closer and saw the wound, and she backed away from him. She was making this noise, sort of like a scream, but not as loud, and she said, 'No, no!' a couple of times. I told Isabel to take her into the bedroom, that I would see to Mr. Calder and that an ambulance was on the way."

"Manolo, when Mrs. Calder came in, did you smell anything?"

"Well, yessir, I guess she smelled real sweet, having just got out of the tub."

Stone looked at the Saltillo tiles that formed the floor and saw a dark stain on the grout between the tiles.

"I couldn't get that out," Manolo said. "I tried, but I couldn't."

"What happened next, Manolo?"

"Two uniformed police officers arrived-they rang the bell, and I let them in the gate. They looked at Mr. Calder and felt his pulse, but they didn't move him. One of them talked to somebody on a walkie-talkie. Not long after that, another police car arrived, this time, plainclothesmen. They went and talked to Mrs. Calder, and I followed them, but she wasn't making any sense; she was hysterical and didn't seem to know where she was or what had happened."

"Show me where the master suite is, please."

Manolo led him through the living room and through a set of double doors, then through a small foyer and into a large bedroom, which contained a king-size bed, a fireplace, and a sofa and chairs in front of a hearth. "Mrs. Calder's dressing room and bath are through here," he said, leading the way through a door to one side of the bed. There was another foyer, and to the left, a very large room, filled with hanging clothes, cubicles for sweaters and blouses, shoe racks, and a three-way mirror. To the right was a large bathroom with a big tub and a dressing table. On top of the dressing table was a large perfume bottle, emblazoned with the name "Chanel," and next to that a bottle of bath oil with the same brand name. Stone smelled them both.

"Now, can I see Mr. Calder's dressing room?" Stone asked.

"Right this way, sir."

They walked back into the bedroom, around the bed, and through another door. The arrangement was the same but both the dressing room and bath were smaller and decorated in a more masculine style.

"Where is Mr. Calder's safe?" Stone asked.

Manolo went to a mirror over a chest of drawers, pressed it, and it swung open to reveal a steel safe door, approximately fifteen by twenty inches, a size that would fit between the structural studs. An electronic keypad, not a combination lock, was imbedded in the door.

"Do you know the combination?" Stone asked.

"Yessir, it's one-five-three-eight. You press the star key first, then the numbers, then the pound key, then turn that k.n.o.b."

Stone opened the safe, which was empty. "What did Mr. Calder keep in here?" he asked.

"He kept his jewelry box and a gun," Manolo said.

"Do you know what kind of gun it was?"

"I don't know the brand of it, but it was an automatic pistol. There was a box of ammunition, too, that said nine millimeter, but the police took that."

"What was in the jewelry box?"

"Watches and other jewelry. Mr. Calder liked watches, and he had six or seven. There were some cuff links and studs, too; a nice selection."

"What did the box look like?"

"It was about a foot long by, I guess, eight inches wide, and maybe three or four inches deep. Deep enough to have the watches on mounts that displayed them when you opened the box. It was made out of brown alligator skin."

"The safe is pretty shallow," Stone said.

"The box would just fit into it, lying flat on the shelf, there. The pistol was at the bottom, along with the box of bullets."

Stone took one more look around. "Thank you, Manolo, that's all I need. Where is Mr. Calder's study? I'd like to make some phone calls."

"The main door is off the living room," Manolo said, "but you can get there this way, too." He walked to a double rack of suits, took hold of the wooden frame, and pulled. The rack swung outward. Then he pressed on the wall, and a door swung open, offering entry to the study.

Stone followed the butler into the study, then watched as he swung the door shut. Closed, it was a bookcase like the others in the room.

"Mr. Calder liked little secret things like that," Manolo said, smiling. "What time would you like dinner, Mr. Barrington?"

"Seven o'clock would be fine."

"And how do you like your beef cooked?"

"Medium, please."

"Would you like it served in the dining room or in the guesthouse?"

"In the guesthouse, I think."

"We'll see you at seven, then," Manolo said, and left the room.

Stone turned to examine Vance Calder's study.

Eleven.

THREE ACADEMY AWARDS GAZED AT STONE FROM THE mantel of the small fireplace in the room. Stone knew that Vance had been nominated seven times and had won three. The room was paneled in antique pine that radiated a soft glow where the light struck it; there were some good pictures and many books. The room was extremely neat, as if it were about to be photographed for Architectural Digest. Architectural Digest.

Stone sat down at Calder's desk, and as he did, the phone rang. He checked the line b.u.t.tons and saw that it was the third line, the most secret number. He picked it up. "h.e.l.lo?"

There was a brief silence. "Who is this?" a woman's voice asked.

"Who's calling?"

"Stone?"

"Dolce?"

"I've been trying to reach you; the Bel-Air said you had checked out."

"I did, an hour ago. I'm staying in the Calders' guesthouse."

"With Arrington?"

"In the guesthouse. Arrington is in a hospital."

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't think I should go into that on the phone; the press, as you can imagine, is taking an intense interest in all this. I wouldn't put it past some of the yellower journals to tap the phones."

"So you can't give me any information?"

"Not about Vance and Arrington, but I'm I'm fine; I'm sure you wanted to know that." fine; I'm sure you wanted to know that."

"I don't like any of this, Stone."