Stone Barrington 06-11

you may rest assured that I will be in contact with the media when there is anything of significance to report.”
    With that, Blumberg got up and marched out of his office, ignoring the questions shouted by the crowd.
    Betty switched off the set. “Well, I guess that puts the ball in the D.A.’s court, doesn’t it?”
    “I believe it does,” Stone agreed. “That was a very impressive performance.”
    “Did you approve the reward?”
    “No, but I would have, if asked. I think it’s a good idea. It might turn up something and, at the very least, it will keep the police busy with leads from people who want the money.”
    A phone on the bedside table rang, and Betty answered it. “It’s Marc Blumberg,” she said, handing Stone the phone.
    “Hi, Marc; I saw your press conference. Very good, and you have my approval on the reward money.”
    “I thought I would have,” Blumberg answered. “I want to meet with Arrington this afternoon; where shall we do it?”
    “How about three o’clock at her house? You know where it is?”
    “Yes, and that’s fine.”
    “There’s a utility entrance at the rear of the property… .”
    “No,” Blumberg interrupted, “I’ll go in the front way; let the press see me.”
    “Whatever you think best.”
    “Just keep that phrase in mind, and we’ll get along great, Stone. See you at three.” He hung up.
    The phone rang again immediately, and Betty answered it. “It’s Arrington,” she said, handing Stone the phone again.
    “Hi.”
    “I just saw Marc Blumberg on TV; was that your idea?”
    “No, it was his, but I wholeheartedly approve.”
    “I haven’t seen this rag, but I take it the photographer I saw was responsible.”
    “Yes; that should give you some idea of how careful you have to be. Marc Blumberg is coming to the house at three this afternoon; be ready to meet him, and don’t wear a bikini.”
    She laughed. “Touché. Will you be here?”
    “Yes.”
    “See you then.”
    Stone hung up and turned to Betty. “Will you make some notes on the tenor of the mail you’re receiving? I expect Blumberg will want to know about it.”
    “Sure; I’ll go add it all up now.” Betty left the room.
    Stone finished dressing. For the first time, he was beginning to feel some optimism about the way things were going. Marc Blumberg was a considerable force, when aroused, and Stone was glad to have him on Arrington’s side.

Twenty-two

    H E HAD BEEN DREADING THIS CALL, BUT HE COULDN’T put it off any longer. Stone dialed Eduardo Bianchi’s private telephone number in New York. As usual, he got only the beep from an answering machine, no message.
    “Eduardo, it’s Stone Barrington. I would be grateful if you could call me sometime today; there’s something important I have to talk to you about.” He left the numbers of both the bungalow and the Calder house.
    Then he called Dino. He could not remember when so much time had passed without a conversation with his friend, and he knew he had been putting off this one, because he knew what Dino would say.
    “She’s guilty,” Dino said, after Stone had brought him up to date.
    “No, she’s not.”
    “You just don’t want to believe it, because you think she killed him so she could have you.”
    Stone winced at the truth. “She passed a polygraph yesterday, aced it,” he said lamely.
    “Yeah, I saw Blumberg’s press conference on CNN. I don’t believe it; she must have been on drugs, or something.”
    “The examiner told me drugs couldn’t fool him.” It had occurred to him that Arrington had seemed eerily calm since she had left the clinic.
    “Look, Stone, I’ve been getting updates from Rick Grant, and while they may not have her cold, his people really believe she whacked her husband.”
    “I’m aware of their opinion,” Stone said. “But don’t judge her so soon. I’m here, on the spot, up to my ears in this, and my instincts tell me she’s innocent.”
    “Stone, nobody’s innocent , you know that. Everybody’s guilty of something .”
    “Not murder; not Arrington. She doesn’t have it in her.”
    “Whatever you say, pal.”
    “There’s something else.”
    “What?”
    “I ended it with Dolce last night.”
    “Good news, at last! What made you see the light?”
    “We had a transatlantic conversation that I didn’t like the tone of, for one thing.”
    “And Arrington’s free, for another thing?”
    “There is that,” Stone admitted sheepishly. “It was something I