Stone Barrington 06-11

“Ah,” she said, “I think I know what you’re getting at. A friend of mine once complained to me that her husband had stopped sleeping with her, and I believe I tried to commiserate by telling her that all couples went through periods like that. I think you must have spoken with Beverly Walters.”
    “Do you deny telling Mrs. Walters that your husband had stopped fucking you?” Bryant demanded.
    Stone began to speak, but Arrington held up a hand and stopped him. “I think Mrs. Walters may have inferred a bit more than I meant to imply,” she said, and her color was rising.
    “Mrs. Calder,” Durkee said, breaking in, “if you had learned that your husband was having sex once, sometimes twice a day with Ms. Joiner in her trailer, would that have made you angry?”
    “Hypothetically? Yes, I suppose it would have hurt me badly.”
    “When you are hurt by a man, do you respond angrily?”
    “I have a temper, Detective Durkee, but on the occasions when it comes out, I have never harmed another human being.”
    “When was the last time you fired a handgun?” Bryant asked suddenly.
    “I have never fired a pistol,” she replied.
    “But you know how, don’t you?”
    “I have never, to the best of my recollection, even held a handgun.”
    “Mrs. Calder,” Durkee asked, “where is your husband’s jewelry box?”
    “I’d like very much to know, Detective; I had hoped that, by now, you might be able to tell me.”
    “Where did you hide the jewelry box and the pistol?”
    “I didn’t hide either of them anywhere,” she replied.
    “But you say you don’t remember anything about the shooting. How could you remember not hiding them?”
    “To the very best of my recollection, I have not handled either my husband’s jewelry box or his gun.”
    “Mrs. Calder, do you recall hearing or reading somewhere that perfume applied to the hands and arms removes any trace of having fired a weapon?”
    “No, I don’t.”
    “What kind of perfume do you use?”
    “I use several, but my favorite is Chanel No. 5.”
    “Did you use that the night your husband was shot?”
    “I don’t remember the night my husband was shot.”
    “Would you use perfume before taking a bath?”
    Arrington looked at him as if he were mad. “No.”
    “Then why would you reek of perfume on getting out of a bath?”
    “I use bath oil, Detective, of the same scent as my perfume, but generally speaking, I never reek.”
    Stone supressed a smile. He sensed that the two detectives were running out of questions, but he didn’t rush them.
    “Mrs. Calder,” Durkee said, “I have to tell you that, after investigating your husband’s murder very thoroughly, we have concluded that the two of you were alone in the house when he was shot.”
    “That hardly seems possible,” Arrington replied. “Otherwise, where are the jewelry box and the gun?”
    “We believe you hid them after shooting your husband.”
    “Where? Have you searched our house?”
    “We haven’t found them—yet,” Bryant said.
    “Let me know when you do,” Arrington said. “Otherwise, I’ll have to file an insurance claim.”
    Durkee stood up. “I believe that’s all for now,” he said, turning to Stone. “I want to be notified when she leaves the hospital, and I want to know where she goes.”
    “I’ll give you a call,” Stone said, walking both men toward the door.
    When they were outside, Bryant turned to Stone. “She killed him,” he said.
    “Nonsense,” Stone said. “It’s obvious that someone got into the house. Haven’t you found any evidence of anyone else?”
    The two detectives exchanged a glance.
    “I want disclosure,” Stone said.
    “Are you licensed to practice law in the state of California?” Bryant asked.
    “No.”
    “My advice is to get her a lawyer who is. I’m sure the D.A. will disclose to him.”
    Stone watched as the two detectives walked to their car. He didn’t like the way this was going.

Fourteen

    S TONE ARRIVED BACK AT VANCE’S STUDIO BUNGALOW to find a message from Lou Regenstein, whom he’d been meaning to call anyway. He got the studio head on the phone.
    “How is Arrington?” Lou asked.
    “Much better. Her doctor says she can go home tomorrow.”
    “Have you given any thought to funeral arrangements?”
    “I was going to ask you the same thing. I’m sure the studio can do a much better job of this than I can.”
    “I have a suggestion,” Lou said.
    “Go ahead.”
    “We have a cathedral set on