Stone Barrington 06-11

you.”
    “Thank you, Doctor,” Stone said. He left the office and went back to his car.

    Dino looked across the dinner table at Stone. “Are you sure you want to know?”
    “Of course, I want to know; wouldn’t you?”
    “I’m not sure,” Dino replied. “Under the circumstances.”
    “What circumstances?”
    Dino shrugged. “The present circumstances.”
    Stone thought about that. Arrington might still go to prison. In that case, he’d want to raise the boy—if he was the father. But if she were freed, then what? He and Arrington and their son would live happily ever after? That is, if the boy was, indeed, his son and not Vance’s.
    “If you’ve got to know, then here’s what you have to do,” Dino said. “You and Arrington and the boy have to go together to have blood drawn, two samples of both yours and the boy’s. She sends one set to a lab, and you send them to another. Then you compare results, and you’ll know.”
    “Yes, I suppose we would.”
    “But if the news of the test should get out, well, you’d have a tabloid shitstorm on your hands.”
    “Yes, we would.”
    “I think you need to do some more thinking.”
    “I think you’re right.

Fifty-nine

    M ANOLO DROVE STONE, ARRINGTON, AND ISABEL TO the courthouse, while Dino and Mary Ann followed in the station wagon. This time, they could not avoid the press, since the hearing had been placed on the court calendar, which was public. Even the underground garage was covered by the TV cameras, and it took both Stone and Manolo to keep them from following the group into the elevator.
    There was another gauntlet to run, between the elevator and the courtroom, but Stone was relieved to see Felipe Cordova sitting outside the courtroom, with Brandy Garcia at his side. Brandy winked at him as they passed. Stone told Isabel to wait to be called, then he took Arrington into the courtroom, where Marc Blumberg met them at the defense table. Dino and Mary Ann found seats. Stone set down his briefcase and a shopping bag he had been carrying.
    “Okay, we’ve been over this,” Marc said to Arrington. “You’ll testify as before, unless …”
    “Unless what?” Arrington asked.
    “Unless you’ve regained your memory.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything after that Friday night, until I woke up in the clinic.”
    “Just checking,” Marc said.
    The judge entered, and the bailiff called the court to order.
    “I’m hearing a motion to dismiss this morning, I believe,” the judge said.
    Marc Blumberg rose. “Yes, Your Honor. I would ask that the District Attorney’s office present its witnesses, followed by defense witnesses.”
    The judge turned to the prosecution table. “Ms. Chu?”
    The young woman rose. “The District Attorney calls Detective Sam Durkee.”
    Durkee took the stand, and under questioning, established that the murder had taken place.
    When it was Marc Blumberg’s turn, he rose. “Detective, you’ve testified that Mr. Calder was shot with a nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistol.”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you find the weapon?”
    “No.”
    “Did you search the Calder house and grounds thoroughly?”
    “Yes.”
    “How many times?”
    “Three, over two days.”
    “And no weapon?”
    “No.”
    “Did you search any other house for the weapon?”
    “Yes, we searched the home of Felipe Cordova, the Calders’ gardener.”
    “Oh? When?”
    “Yesterday.”
    “I’m glad you got around to it. Did you find the weapon?”
    “No.”
    “Did you search the house or grounds of Beverly Walters?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because she’s not a suspect.”
    “I see. You say you searched the Calder house thoroughly. In your search, did you find a white terrycloth robe?”
    “No, but I wasn’t looking for one.”
    “When you arrived at the Calder house and first saw Mrs. Calder, what was she wearing?”
    “A bathrobe, or a dressing gown, I guess you could call it.”
    “What was it made of?”
    “I’m not sure; some sort of smooth fabric.”
    “Could it have been either cotton or silk?”
    “Yes, I suppose it could have been.”
    “Could it have been terrycloth?”
    “No, I’m sure it wasn’t.”
    “What color was it?”
    “It was some sort of floral pattern, brightly colored.”
    “No further questions.”
    The D.A. called the medical examiner and elicited testimony on the autopsy results, then, “Your Honor, the District Attorney calls Beverly Walters.”
    Beverly Walters appeared