Stone Barrington 06-11

when I get back.”
    “Of course, Mr. Barrington,” Manolo replied. “I thought you might wish to.” He handed Stone a small remote control for the rear gate.
    “By the way,” Stone said, “on what days is the lawn mowed?”
    “The man is here today,” the butler replied. “Ordinarily, it’s on Fridays, but he was ill last Friday.”
    “When was the last time he was here?”
    “A week ago Friday.”
    “Do you recall Mrs. Calder having a conversation with him on that day?”
    “Yes, she asked him not to cut the lawn so closely. She asked me to see that it was done.”
    “A week ago Friday?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Thank you, Manolo. And do you recall if Mr. and Mrs. Calder went out that evening?”
    Manolo looked thoughtful. “Yes, they went to Mr. Regenstein’s home for dinner. I drove them; the chauffeur was on vacation.”
    “Was it a black-tie dinner?”
    “Yes, sir; Mr. Calder was dressed in a dinner suit.”
    “And do you remember what jewelry Mrs. Calder wore?”
    “She wore diamonds,” he said. “She usually does, when it’s a black-tie event.”
    “Thank you, Manolo; I should be back in a couple of hours.”
    “Will you be dining here, then?”
    “Yes, I think I will,” Stone said.
    “I’ll tell the cook.”
    “Something simple, please; a steak will be fine.”
    “Of course.”
    Stone helped Mrs. Carter and Peter into the van, then got into his own car. They made it out the back way undetected.

Ten

    S TONE SAW MRS. CARTER AND PETER OFF ON THE CENTURION jet, then returned to the Bel-Air, checked out, left his rent-a-car with the parking attendant, and took a cab back to the Calder residence. He had thought of returning through the rear entrance, but he didn’t want a cabdriver to know about that, so he called Manolo and asked him to be ready to open the front gate. There was only a single television van at the gate when he arrived, and the occupants took an immediate interest in him, but before they could reach the cab with a camera, he was safely inside. Before he got out of the cab, he handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill. “That’s for not talking to the TV people about who you delivered here,” he said.
    “Thank you, sir,” the man said, “but I don’t know who you are, anyway.”
    “Just don’t stop when you go out the gate.”
    Manolo and a maid took Stone’s bags through the central hallway of the house, out the back, and around the pool to the guesthouse. Stone thought the little house was even nicer than the suite at the Bel-Air. While the maid unpacked for him and pressed his clothes, Stone walked back into the house with Manolo.
    “You said you wished to speak with me, Mr. Barrington?”
    “Yes, Manolo; it’s important that I know everything that happened here on Saturday night. Please tell me what you saw and heard.”
    “I was in my quarters, a little cottage out behind the kitchen entrance, when I heard a noise.”
    “How would you characterize the noise?”
    “A bang. I didn’t react at first, but I was curious, so I left my quarters, entered the house through the kitchen door and walked into the central hall.” He led the way into the house.
    “Which door did you come through?” Stone asked.
    “That one,” Manolo replied, pointing to a door down the hall.
    “And what did you see and hear?”
    “I saw Mr. Calder lying right there,” he said. “He was lying… . He …”
    “Can you show me?”
    “Yessir.” Manolo walked to the spot and lay down on his side, then rolled partly onto his belly. “Like this,” he said. “Can I get up, now?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    Manolo stood up. “He had a hole in his head here,” he said, pointing to the right rear of his own head. “It was bleeding.”
    “Did you think he was alive?”
    “Yessir, he was. I felt his pulse in his neck.”
    “What did you do then?”
    “I went to the phone there,” he pointed to a table, “and called nine-one-one and asked for the police and an ambulance quick.”
    “What next?”
    “The maid, Isabel, came into the hall from the kitchen; I told her to go and see if Mrs. Calder was all right, and she went toward the master suite, there, through the living room, and through that door.”
    “How much time elapsed between the time you heard the shot and the time you found Mr. Calder?”
    “I didn’t go right away; I kept listening and wondering if I had heard what I heard. I expect it may have been two or three minutes.”
    “Which—two or