L.A. Dead

by Stuart Woods

  "That was you?"

  "I'm afraid so. When I'm old and washed up, somebody's going to make a really bad TV movie about all this, and then I'm going to write my memoirs."

  "I'm sure it will be a hot seller."

  "You better believe it, Sugar."

  After dinner, he drove her back to her car at Centurion, and they said good night.

  "One thing," he said to her.

  "What's that, Baby?" she asked, putting her arms around his neck.

  "Dolce has taken this whole business hard. After tonights events, I think you should be careful."

  "You mean, watch my back?"

  "Yes, that's what I mean."

  She kissed him. "Sugar," she said, "Dolce doesn't want to mess with me."

  "I hope you're right."

  She kissed him again. "Should I go armed?"

  "Do you own a gun?"

  She nodded. "All legal-like, too."

  "Try not to shoot at anybody; you might hit me."

  "I shoot what I aim at, Sugar." She kissed him again, then got into her car. "By the way," she said, as she put the top down. "There's going to be a kind of memorial for Vanessa tomorrow at my house. Will you come?"

  Stone nodded. "Sure."

  "Just a few people. Six o'clock."

  "I'll be there."

  She gave a little wave and drove away.

  Chapter 49

  The memorial for Vanessa Pike at Charlene's house seemed more of a memorial cocktail party, Stone reflected as he walked into the well-populated living room. Everyone had a drink, even if, in the California style, it was designer fizzy water, and there was a buffet at one end of the room laden with raw vegetables, melon, and other low-fat delicacies.

  Charlene came and gave him a virtuous peck on the cheek. "I think you'll know a few people," she said. "Mingle while I greet."

  Stone nodded, went to the bar, and waited while the barman ransacked the house for a botde of bourbon. He would not bear his grief in sobriety, no matter what the West Coast convention. While he waited, he surveyed the room, picking out most of the women he had met on his first visit to the house, along with Dr. Lansing Drake and his wife and, somewhat to his relief, Marc Blumberg. At least, he'd have somebody to talk to. He collected his drink and joined Marc.

  "What've you been up to?" Marc asked.

  "Not much," Stone said.

  "I think it's about time to go for a motion to dismiss," Marc said.

  "I'm not so sure about that," Stone replied.

  "Why not?"

  "Because I think it's quite possible that Beverly Walters was there when Vance was shot, and she's the prosecution's prime witness."

  "Are you sure she was there?"

  "As sure as I can be without putting her under oath and asking her."

  Marc mulled that over for a moment. "I wonder if she hates Arrington that much, that she'd testify?"

  "She hates her enough to testify to a conversation in which Arrington, apparently in jest, says she'd kill Vance if she caught him with another woman."

  "You have a point," Marc admitted.

  "Have you heard anything new from the investigation into Vanessa's death?" Stone asked.

  "They've cleared the husband," Marc replied, nodding toward two men across the room.

  Stone followed his gaze and found the two cops he'd met after the fire at Vanessa's. "What are they doing here?"

  "They must think the murderer is present," Marc said. "Such a person might call attention to himself by his absence."

  "Have you caught them staring at anybody?" Stone asked, glancing out the big windows toward the beach.

  "They're staring at you right now," Marc said.

  Stone looked back toward the two detectives and found that Marc was not lying. Both men gazed gravely back at him. Stone raised his glass a little and nodded; both men nodded back. "You think I'm all they've got?"

  "I guess so."

  "What do you suppose they suppose my motive is?"

  "Who knows?"

  "I mean, I met her only twice, both times in your company. Did you notice any murderous intentions on my part?"

  Marc shrugged. "Nothing obvious."

  "I suppose they've questioned you about those meetings."

  "In some depth."

  "Do I need a lawyer?"

  "Everybody needs a lawyer."

  Stone laughed.

  "But probably not you, not yet."

  "That's a relief; I'm not sure I could afford you."

  "Probably not."

  "Excuse me; I need the powder room." Stone set down his glass. He left the lawyer and walked down a hallway to the first-floor half-bath. The door was ajar and he stepped inside and switched on the light. He reached behind him to close the door, but felt a pressure on it. Then he was pushed forward into the little room and someone stepped in behind him and closed the door. Stone turned to find Beverly Walters sharing the john with him.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

  She reached behind her and turned the lock. "Same as you; grieving for Vanessa."

  "I mean in this toilet."

  "I wanted to talk to you."

  "We can't talk; you're a witness against my client. Surely you must understand that."

  "Of course; that's why we're talking in here."

  "We're not talking at all," Stone said. "There are two police officers here, and they work for the same department that's investigating Vance's murder. They would certainly report it if they saw us talking." He started around her, but she took hold of his lapels and stopped him.

  "Listen to me," she said.

  "I can't listen to you," he replied, trying to free himself.

  She clung to him. "I'm going to testify against Arrington," she said.

  "I believe I'm aware of that," Stone replied, taking hold of her wrists and trying to disengage.

  "But you don't know what I'm going to say."

  "I've already heard you testify once."

  "But you didn't hear everything. I saw Vance murdered."

  "Ms. Walters, please let me out of here."

  "I can put Arrington in prison, don't you understand?"

  "You can try," Stone said, "but I expect to have something to say about that, and so does Marc Blumberg. You're not going to get a free ride on the stand."

  "I want you to tell Arrington that I'm sorry. That I'm fond of her. That I don't want to do it."

  "Don't want to do it?" Stone asked, growing angry. "Then why did you talk to the police?"

  "I felt I had to."

  "We'll, you're an admirable citizen, Ms. Walters, but now I want you to get out of my way."

  "Never mind," she said. "I'll leave." She turned, unlocked the door, opened it, and closed it behind her.

  Stone locked the door. What the hell was wrong with the woman? He used the john, taking his time, then washed his hands and opened the door slowly. He peeked down the hall, saw no one, then left and went back to where Marc Blumberg was still standing.

  "That took a long time," Marc said. "You all right?"

  "I'm extremely pissed off," Stone said. He told Marc what had happened.

  "Maybe she's crazy," Marc said. "Maybe that's our approach to questioning her. I'll put somebody on her and see if we can come up with some other erratic behavior."

  "She said she saw Vance murdered, and she's going to testify to that."

  "Well, at least we know what she's going to say on the stand."

  There was a clinking of a knife on glass, and they turned toward the sound. Charlene was standing on the steps to the foyer; they made a little stage. She asked for everyone's attention, then a series of people came up and said a few words about Vanessa. They kept it light, but the crowd looked somber.

  Finally, Charlene looked at Beverly Walters. "Beverly, I'm sure you'd like to say something; you and Vanessa were so close."

  Walters looked down and shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

  "Of course," Char
lene said. "We all know how you feel. Everybody, please stay as long as you like. There'll be a light supper in a few minutes." She stepped down and made her way across the room toward Stone and Marc Blumberg.

  "You handled that gracefully," Stone said.

  "It's about all I can do for Vanessa," Charlene replied.

  Marc spoke up. "Is Beverly Walters usually so reticent?"

  Charlene snorted. "Beverly would normally not miss a chance to be the center of attention."

  Marc nodded at the two police officers across the room. "I think she's getting quite a lot of attention," he said.

  Stone looked at the two men, who had eyes for no one except Beverly Walters.

  Chapter 50

  Stone and Charlene sat on the patio overlooking the sea. The guests had all gone, and they were having a cold supper.

  "Tell me everything you know about Beverly Walters," he said.

  "Haven't I already?"

  "I've heard bits and pieces, but I'd like to hear what you know about her."

  Charlene took a deep breath, swelling her lovely breasts. "Well, she came out here as an actress. She'd had a nice part on Broadway, and somebody at Centurion saw her and brought her out to test her. She had a few small parts, but she didn't seem to be going anywhere, then she met Gordon, her husband, on a picture, and pretty soon they were married."

  "Did she screw around after she was married?"

  "Sugar, you have to remember where you are. It would have been a lot more noteworthy if she hadn't screwed around, and nobody took note of that."

  "Did she ever sleep with Vance?"

  "If she did she never talked about it, but I wouldn't be surprised. Quite apart from Vance's talents as a lover, lots of women would have slept with him just to be able to say they did. Beverly would have been one of those."

  "But she never said she did?"

  "Not to me, and I suppose, not to any woman I know, because I would have heard about it within minutes."

  "Lots of people knew Vance slept around?"

  "They did before he got married, but after that, he became a lot more discreet."

  "He didn't stop sleeping around, he just became more discreet about it?"

  "That's about right. As part of being more discreet, he might have slept with fewer women. I never discussed it with him."

  "I don't mean to pry, but when you and Vance were sleeping together, it was after he was married?"

  "Sure, you mean to pry, but I don't mind. Yes, it was afterward."

  "Where did you meet?"

  "My RV or his."

  "Ever at his bungalow?"

  "Once or twice, late, after Betty had gone for the day."

  "He wouldn't have wanted Betty to know?"

  "I guess not. Word was, they once had a thing going. Maybe he thought she might be jealous." Stone picked at his salmon and sipped his wine.

  "What are you thinking, Stone?"

  "Sorry, I was just letting my mind wander. Sometimes that helps me sort things out."

  "Have you sorted something out?"

  "No."

  Charlene laughed.

  "Beverly did something strange tonight."

  "What did she do?"

  Stone told her about the incident in the powder room.

  "She was probably hoping you'd ravish her on the spot."

  "No, it wasn't like that."

  Charlene shrugged. "Did you talk to Dr. Lansing Drake at all?"

  "No," Stone replied.

  "He seemed to get a little skittish when I mentioned you."

  "He behaved oddly at dinner last night, too. Why might he feel uncomfortable around me?"

  "Damned if I know."

  "Tell me about Dr. Drake."

  "He's the doctor of choice in Beverly Hills and Bel-Air," Charlene said.

  "Why?"

  "He's pretty easygoing; if somebody wants a Valium prescription, he's not going to give them a hard time about it. He knows how to keep his mouth shut, too. I'll bet he's cured more cases of the clap and gotten more people secretly into rehab than any doctor in town."

  "Is he a decent doctor?"

  "There are jokes about that, but I've never heard anybody say he really screwed up on something. I mean, he hasn't killed anybody that I know of. I think his principal talent is that he knows when to refer somebody to a specialist. That's his motto: When in doubt, refer. He can't get into too much trouble that way."

  "I gather he's pretty social."

  "Oh, he doesn't miss too many parties. He's not on everybody's A list, but he probably makes most B-plus lists. I think that's where he gets most of his business. People sidle up to him at a party and ask him about a rash, or something, and the next thing you know they're his patients. He's very charming."

  "Did Vance go to him?"

  "Oh, Vance thought he was Albert fucking Schweitzer. I've heard him talk about Lansing in the most glowing terms."

  "So Vance trusted him."

  "Implicitly."

  "Is he your doctor?"

  "For anything up to and including a skint knee. I've got a gynecologist who gets most of my business. I'm a healthy girl; I've never really been sick with anything worse than the flu."

  "I'm glad to hear it."

  "As a matter of fact, I'm feeling particularly healthy tonight. You don't have to be anywhere, do you?"

  "I'm happy where I am," he replied.

  She stood up, took him by the hand, and led him into the house and toward her bedroom. Once there, she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor.

  "Promise you won't ruin my health," he said.

  "Sugar," she replied, working on his buttons, "I'm not making any such promise."

  "Be gentle," he said.

  "Maybe," she replied, leading him toward the bed, and not by the hand.

  Chapter 51

  Stone made it back to the Centurion bungalow, tired but happy, around ten A.M. Louise was at her desk, and she handed him a message from Brandy Garcia.

  "He works from an answering machine," Stone said to the secretary. "Call and leave a message that he can reach me now."

  "Dino Bacchetti called, too. He said you have the number."

  "Right, I'll call him." Stone shaved and changed into fresh clothes, then went into the study. He was about to call Dino when Louise buzzed him.

  "Brandy Garcia on line one."

  Stone picked up the phone. "Hello?"

  Garcia wasted no time on pleasantries. "I thought you should know that our mutual acquaintance from Tijuana is back in town."

  "What?"

  "Apparently, his sister-the one he lived with when he was here- is sick, and he's taking care of her kids."

  "I thought you told him to lose himself."

  "I did, my friend, but I can't follow him all over Mexico to make sure he stays down there."

  "Do you have a number for his sister's house?"

  "Got a pencil?"

  "Shoot." Stone jotted down the number. "Call him and tell him to keep his head down."

  "Will do, Chief." Garcia hung up.

  Stone sighed. It was bad enough that Beverly Walters was going to testify, but if Cordova appeared in court, he might lend credence to her story. He called Marc Blumberg.

  "Morning, Stone. Where'd you sleep last night?"

  "None of your business," Stone replied.

  Blumberg laughed. "You seemed to be hanging back when everybody else was leaving."

  "We had dinner, and that's all you need to know."

  "Okay, okay, what's up?"

  "Our friend Cordova has turned up in LA. again."

  "That's bad," Blumberg replied. "I filed a motion to dismiss this morning. I hope we can get a hearing scheduled before the police find him."

  "The one thing we've got going for us is that the police aren't looking for Cordova, although he doesn't know that."

  "Do you know where to find him?"

  "Yes. I can get a message to him if the police suddenly get interested."


  "You want to prep Arrington, or shall I?"

  "You'd better do it; she's not speaking to me at the moment."

  "Oh? What went wrong?"

  "It's too complicated to go into. Let's just say that she got angry about something she didn't have a good reason to be angry about."

  "Stone, you are the only man I know whose relations with women are more complicated than mine."

  "That's not how I planned it, believe me. Will you call Arrington?"

  "Okay, whatever you say."

  "How are you planning to handle Beverly Walters?"

  "I'm planning to shred her on the stand."

  "She may have been sleeping with Vance; I'm still working on finding out."

  "Even if she wasn't, I think I'll ask her anyway. Several times, maybe. Anything we can do to damage her credibility puts us one step closer to getting Arrington out of this."

  "I think you're right. Let me make another call to see if I can find out more."

  "Let me know when you do."

  "See you later." Stone hung up and buzzed Louise. "What time is it in Hawaii?" he asked.

  "Three or four hours earlier than here, I think."

  "You've got Betty Southard's hotel number, haven't you?"

  "She's moved to a rented cottage, and I have the number."

  "Go ahead and get her on the phone, and let's hope she's an early riser."

  "I'll buzz you."

  Stone sat thinking about Beverly Walters and Felipe Cordova and what they could mean to the charges against Arrington. The phone buzzed, and Stone picked it up. "Betty?"

  "Aloha, stranger," she said.

  "Hope I didn't get you up."

  "You know I'm an early riser," she said. "Wish you were here to get my heart started in the morning."

  "A pleasant thought, but I'm still needed here. You enjoying yourself?"

  "So much that I'm thinking of making a permanent move here. Will you come see me?"

  "When you least expect it."

  "Why'd you call? Surely not just to wake me up."

  "I wanted to ask you something."

  "Go ahead."

  "Beverly Walters. Did she and Vance ever have a thing?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "Because she's the key prosecution witness against Arrington, and I need to know as much as possible about her."