Stone Barrington 06-11

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