"I'm sure he was. He spoke well of you, too."

"Did he?"

"He said you were a gentleman."

"And that was just before I caused a scene by walking out of an elegant dinner party."

"I'm sure his opinion of you hasn't changed."

"You know, until this week, I had never in my life walked out of any dinner party, and now, in the s.p.a.ce of three days, I've walked out of two."

"Are you upset?"

"Not really; I must be getting used to it."

"I guess folks out here aren't working with quite the same social graces as their counterparts in New York."

Stone reached Sunset and turned toward the studio. "How'd you happen to come out here?"

"You want the fan magazine version, or the truth?"

"The truth will do nicely."

"Hang a left here," she said. "There's a nice little restaurant down the street, and we haven't had dinner."

Stone followed directions. "No, we haven't."

[image]

The restaurant was not all that small, but it was very elegant, and the headwaiter, spotting Charlene, had them at a special table in seconds. They ordered drinks and dinner.

"Okay, now tell me your story," he said.

"It's a strange one," she said. "I'm from Meriwether County, Georgia, near a little town called Delano."

"That's where Betty Southard, Vance's secretary, is from."

"True, but she was older than I, so we didn't really know each other. Anyway, I was pretty much a country girl, and I had this boyfriend who murdered a girl, in Greenville, the county seat. The court appointed a lawyer named Will Lee to defend my boyfriend."

"Wait a minute, is this the senator from Georgia? The presidential candidate?"

"Yes, but not at that time. Old Senator Carr, who Will worked for, had a stroke, and Will ran for his seat, but the judge wouldn't let him out of defending Larry, my boyfriend, even though it was during the campaign. As you might imagine, the trial attracted a lot of press coverage."

"I think I remember this vaguely," Stone said, "but not the outcome."

"Larry was convicted and sentenced to death. A tabloid paid me for my story, and all of a sudden, Hollywood was sniffing around. Next thing I knew I was out here, with a part in a movie. Then there was another part and another, and the rest is pulp fiction."

"Amazing. Was the boyfriend executed?"

She shook her head. "I went to see the governor of Georgia and personally, ah, interceded on his behalf. His sentence was commuted to life without parole. We still correspond."

"Was he guilty?"

"Oh, yes."

"That's the d.a.m.nedest story I ever heard."

"There's more."

"Tell me."

"Will Lee and I had a little one-time encounter that became a side issue in the presidential race."

"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 tonight's 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.

Forty-nine.

THE MEMORIAL FOR VANESSA PIKE AT CHARLENE'S house seemed more of a memorial c.o.c.ktail 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 bottle 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 gla.s.s a little and nodded; both men nodded back. "You think I'm all they've got?"

"I guess so."

"What do you suppose they think 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." 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 gla.s.s. 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 h.e.l.l 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."