L.A. Dead (35 page)

“I hope so,” Eduardo replied, but he did not sound hopeful.

The phone rang and Stone answered it. “Hello?”

“May I speak with Stone Barrington, please?”

“Speaking.”

“Stone, this is Jim Judson, returning your call.”

Stone briefly explained the circumstances. “Do you think you could admit her to your clinic? Her father will be in touch with her doctor in New York and ask him to come out here.”

“Of course,” Judson replied. “When can you bring her to the clinic?”

“I’m not sure,” Stone said. “We have to find her.”

“Is she likely to be violent?”

“That’s a possibility, but I don’t really know.”

“I’ll have my people prepare, then. When you’re ready to bring her here, just call the main number. I’ll alert the front desk. If you need an ambulance or restraints, just let them know.”

“Thank you, Jim; I’ll be in touch.” Stone hung up and returned to the table. “Dr. Judson will admit her,” he said.

“But now we have to find her,” Dino said. “Where do we look?”

Eduardo sighed. “I know where she is,” he said sadly. “She’s at the home of some friends of mine who are out of the country. We’ll go there together.”

Stone shook his head. “Dino and I can do this, Eduardo. Dolce is already angry with me; let’s not make her angry with you, too.”

Eduardo nodded. He found a pad, wrote down the address, and handed it to Stone. “I know I don’t have to ask you to be gentle with her.”

“Of course, I will be.”

“But be careful,” Eduardo said. “Don’t allow her to endanger you or Dino.”

Stone nodded and shook Eduardo’s hand. “When this is done,” Eduardo said, “there’s something else I must talk with you about. Please call me.”

“I’ll call you as soon as we get Dolce to the clinic.” He and Dino left before dessert arrived.

Fifty-seven

W
ITH DINO NAVIGATING, STONE FOUND THE HOUSE. It was on Mulholland Drive, high above the city, a contemporary structure anchored to the mountainside by a cradle of steel beams. The front door was at street level, but the rear deck, Stone noticed, was high above the rocky hillside. The house was dark, but there was a sedan with a Hertz sticker on the bumper parked in the carport.

Stone parked on the roadside and headed for the front door, but Dino stopped him.

“Give me a couple of minutes to get around back,” he said.

“Dino, the back of the house is at least fifty feet off the ground.”

“Just give me a couple of minutes.”

Stone stood at the roadside and looked out at what was nearly an aerial view of Los Angeles—a carpet of lights arranged in a neat grid, disappearing into a distant bank of smog, with a new moon hanging overhead. The air seemed clearer up here, he thought, taking a deep breath of mountain air. How had it come to this? he wondered. What had started as a passionate affair and had ripened into something even better was now broken into many pieces, ruined by Dolce’s obsession with him and his own bond with Arrington. He didn’t know where this would all end, but nothing looked promising. He glanced at his watch, then started up the driveway to the house.

The house’s entry was dark, but as he approached, his feet crunching on gravel, he saw that the front door was ajar. He stopped and listened for a moment. Music was coming from somewhere in the interior of the house—a Mozart symphony, he thought, though he couldn’t place it. Some instinct told him not to ring the doorbell. He pushed the door open a little and stepped inside into a foyer. He could hear the music better now. It seemed to be coming from the living room, beyond. He moved forward. A little moon and starlight came through the sliding-glass doors to the deck, on the other side of the living room. He walked down a couple of steps. He could see the dim outlines of furniture. Then the silence was broken.

“I knew you’d come, Stone,” Dolce said.

Stone jumped and looked around, but he couldn’t find her. “Do you mind if we turn on a light?”

“I prefer the dark,” she said. “It’s better for what I have to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Dolce,” he said. “Just relax; let’s sit down and talk for a little while.”

“Talking’s over,” she said. “We’re way beyond talk, now.”

“No, we can always talk.”

The sound of two light pistol shots cracked the silence, and Stone dove for the floor, but not before the muzzle flash illuminated her, standing with her back to the fireplace, holding the pistol in both hands, combat-style.

“Stop it, Dolce!” he shouted. “Don’t make things worse.” He crawled behind a sofa, while wondering why his own gun was not in his hand.

She fired again, and he felt the thud against the sofa. “Things can always get worse,” she said. Then he heard a sharp thud, and something large made of glass shattered against the stone floor.

“Stone?” It was Dino’s voice. “Are you hit?”

“No,” Stone replied. “Can I stand up?”

“Yes. She’s out.”

Stone stood up, found a lamp at the end of the sofa and switched it on. Dino stood before the fireplace, a short-barreled .38 in his hand, looking down. Stone came around the sofa and saw Dolce crumpled on the floor among the shards of the glass coffee table. Dino was standing on the hand that held the .32 automatic. Stone went to her and gently turned her over. “What did you hit her with?” he asked.

“The edge of my hand, across the back of the neck. I’m sure I didn’t hurt her.” He picked up the .32, removed the clip, worked the action, and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Stone picked up the ejected cartridge and handed it to Dino. “We’d better find the spent shells,” he said. “Otherwise, when the owners return home they’ll be calling the police.”

Dino rummaged around the broken glass and recovered the shell casings. “I’ve got three,” he said. “There was only one more, in the breech.”

Stone found a phone and called the clinic. “This is Stone Barrington,” he said to the woman who answered.

“Yes, Mr. Barrington, we’ve been expecting your call.”

“We’re on our way there.”

“Will you require any sort of restraints?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Best be ready, though.”

“We’ll expect you shortly. Do you know how to get into the garage?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be met there and brought up in the elevator.”

“Good.” Stone hung up, got his arms under Dolce, and picked her up. “Let’s get her to the car,” he said.

Dino closed the front door behind them, then got into the rear seat of the station wagon, helping Stone move Dolce’s unconscious form into the car, then Stone went around to the driver’s side.

“I hope to God we can get out of here before the cops show up,” Dino said. “Some neighbor must have heard the shots.”

Stone started the car and headed down Mulholland. “They’ll find an empty house,” he said.

“And a mess. Eduardo had better send somebody up there to clean up.”

“I’ll mention it to him.”

They got as far as Sunset Boulevard before Dolce began to come to.

“Easy, Dolce,” Stone said. “You just lie here and rest.”

“Stone?” she said.

“I’m here, Dolce,” he said from the front seat. “Just lie quietly. We’ll have you home soon.” He turned up Sunset and began making his way toward the Judson Clinic.

“Where’s home?” she asked dreamily.

It was a good question, Stone thought, and he didn’t have an answer.

There were two beefy men in orderlies’ uniforms waiting in the garage with a gurney. Stone stopped the car, got out, and helped Dino remove Dolce.

“Where are we?” she asked. Her hand went to the back of her neck. “I’ve got a headache.”

“We’ll get you something for that,” one of the orderlies said. “Why don’t you hop up here and we’ll get you upstairs and to bed.”

“I don’t want to go to bed,” she said, looking around the garage. “It’s early, and I’m a late person.”

“We won’t need the gurney,” Stone said. “Come on, Dolce, let’s go upstairs and get you something for your headache.” He reached for her arm, but she stiffened and tried to pull away.

Dino stepped up and helped hold her as they got her onto the elevator.

An orderly pressed a button. “We’ve got a room ready,” he said.

“What hotel is this?” Dolce asked.

“The Judson,” an orderly replied.

“Never heard of it. I want to go to the Bel-Air.”

“The Bel-Air is full,” Stone said.

“Never mind, Papa keeps a suite there; I want to go to the Bel-Air.”

“Eduardo said to take you here,” Stone said. “He’ll come and see you in the morning.”

The elevator stopped, and the party moved down the hallway, with Stone and Dino holding tightly onto Dolce. They got her into a room, where a nurse was waiting.

“Oh, no,” Dolce said, struggling. “I know this place. I’ve been to a place like this.”

The nurse came forward, a syringe in her hand.

Stone turned Dolce’s face toward him. “It’s going to be all right,” he said.

She whirled, when she felt the needle in her arm, but Stone and Dino held her tightly.

“Oh, no,” Dolce said again. “I don’t want to …”

“Put her on the bed,” the nurse said to the two orderlies, and in a moment they had her stretched out. She turned to Stone and Dino. “She’ll be out in a minute, and she’ll sleep for twelve hours.”

Stone stood at the bedside and held her hand until her eyes had closed and she was breathing deeply.

A few minutes later Stone and Dino took the elevator back to the garage and got into the car.

“I don’t ever want to have to do that again,” Stone said.

“Then you’d better get a divorce,” Dino replied.

Fifty-eight

S
TONE LOOKED IN THE BATHROOM MIRROR; HE DID NOT much like himself this morning. Watching Dolce being sedated had shaken him badly, and later, explaining to Eduardo what had happened had not improved his state of mind. He had not slept much, and he was due at Marc Blumberg’s office to prepare for tomorrow’s hearing. He got into a hot shower and let the water run. The phone was buzzing when he got out.

It was Eduardo. “I saw her early this morning,” he said.

“How was she?”

“Still sleeping; I just sat and looked at her. Her own doctor will be here today.”

“Is there anything I can do, Eduardo?”

“Everything is being done that can be done. Later, if her doctor thinks you could be helpful, perhaps you could see her.”

“Of course.”

“I would like to take her to New York as soon as she is able to travel. Dr. Judson said he would consult with her doctor about that. If possible, I will take her home to Brooklyn and have her treated there.”

“Perhaps she would be happier there,” Stone said, not knowing what else to say.

“Stone, there is something else I must tell you about.”

“What is it, Eduardo?”

“When I was at your house in New York we talked about the blood tests you took when Arrington’s child was born.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“The tests were conducted by a laboratory here, in Los Angeles, called Hemolab.”

“Yes.”

“I think you should know that tests conducted by this company have, in the past, been known to be … manipulated. I cannot go into any detail about this, and I cannot discuss my reasons. Suffice it to say that this information is not just my opinion, but more substantial.”

Again, Stone didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know if, in your case, the results were accurate or not, and I have no way of investigating. You might wish to have the tests repeated by another laboratory.”

“Thank you, Eduardo; I’ll give that some thought.” He would certainly do that.

“I must go now.”

“I’ll call you tonight to hear about Dolce.”

“Thank you; I’ll be in my suite all evening. Good-bye.”

Stone hung up and sat on the bed, rattled by what Eduardo had said. He looked at the bedside clock: nearly eight; he was due at Marc Blumberg’s office at nine to prepare for the hearing the following day. He shaved and dressed, then he called Dino.

“How you doing, pal?” Dino asked.

“I’ve been better.”

“What do you need?” Dino could always read him.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d do something for me.”

“Name it.”

“Wait until midafternoon, then call the office of a Dr. Lansing Drake, in Beverly Hills. Tell him Arrington recommended him, that you’re having abdominal pains, and that you’d like to see him late this afternoon. Then call me at Marc Blumberg’s office and tell me what time he’ll see you.”

“You want me to go and fake it with this doctor?”

“No, no; I just want you to make the appointment, so that if he calls back to confirm who you are, he won’t get me on the phone instead.”

“Okay, I can do that. Dinner tonight?”

“Sure, if I don’t have too much homework to do.”

“Talk to you this afternoon, then.”

“Bye.” Stone was about to leave when the phone buzzed again. “Yes, Louise?”

“Brandy Garcia is on one.”

Stone picked up the phone. “Yes, Brandy?”

“Stone, what’s going on with Felipe Cordova? He called me last night, and he was upset.”

“I subpoenaed him to testify at a hearing, that’s all. He’s at no risk by doing that.”

“Yeah, but yesterday afternoon, he got
another
subpoena for the same time and place, this one from the D.A. And they searched his house, too. He didn’t know what they were looking for.”

Stone thought about that for a moment. “Somebody’s got his wires crossed, that’s all. There’s nothing for him to worry about.”

“He doesn’t like this, Stone. I think he might bolt.”

“Brandy, there’s a thousand bucks in it for you if you can see that he shows up for that hearing.”

“What am I going to tell him?”