Stone Barrington 06-11

her, once and for all. He rapped sharply on the door and waited.
    A moment later the door was opened by a white-haired woman in her sixties, dressed in a hotel robe. “Yes?” she said, looking at him suspiciously.
    “May I see Miss Bianchi, please?”
    “I’m sorry, you have the wrong room,” the woman replied, starting to close the door.
    “May I ask, when did you check in?”
    “About noon,” she replied and firmly shut the door.
    Stone walked down to the lobby and the front desk. “Yes, Mr. Barrington?” the young woman at the desk said. “Are you checking in again?”
    “No, I’m looking for Miss Dolce Bianchi. Has she changed rooms?”
    “Let me check,” the woman said, tapping some computer keys. “I’m afraid I don’t see a Miss Bianchi.”
    “Try Mrs. Stone Barrington,” Stone said, through clenched teeth.
    “Ah, yes. Mrs. Barrington checked out last night.”
    “And her forwarding address?”
    She checked the computer screen and read off the address of Eduardo’s house in Manhattan.
    “Thank you,” Stone said.
    “Of course,” she replied. “We’re always happy to see you, Mr. Barrington.”
    “Thank you, and by the way, would you inform the management that there is no Mrs. Stone Barrington? The woman’s name is Dolce Bianchi, and should she check in again, I would be grateful if you would not allow her to use my name in the hotel.”
    “I’ll speak to the manager about it,” the woman replied, looking baffled.
    “Thank you very much,” Stone said, managing a smile for the woman. He walked back to the parking lot, switched on the ignition, and called the Bianchi house in Manhattan. He got an answering machine for his trouble. Frustrated, he called Dino’s number at home.
    “Hello?” Mary Ann, Dino’s wife, answered.
    “Hi, Mary Ann, it’s Stone.”
    “Hi, Stone,” she said cheerfully, then her voice took on a sympathetic tone. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out in Venice.”
    “Thank you, but I think it was for the best.”
    “Well, since you’re not too broken up about it, I don’t mind telling you, I think you’re lucky to be out of that relationship. I mean, Dolce’s my sister, and I love her, but you’re far too nice a guy to have to put up with her.”
    “She registered at the Bel-Air as Mrs. Stone Barrington,” he said.
    “Oh, Jesus,” Mary Ann breathed. “That’s just like her.”
    “She checked out yesterday and said she was returning to New York, but there’s no answer at the Manhattan house. Have you heard from her? I want to talk to her.”
    “Not a word; I knew she went to Vance Calder’s funeral, and I thought she was still in L.A. Hang on, Dino wants to speak to you.”
    “So how’s the bridegroom?” Dino asked.
    “Don’t start. She checked into the Bel-Air as Mrs. Stone Barrington. Are you sure that civil ceremony has no force in law?”
    “That’s my understanding, but I’m not an Italian lawyer,” Dino replied. “Is Dolce giving you a hard time?”
    “I’m staying at Vance Calder’s cottage at Centurion Studios, and she barged in there this afternoon with a camera and caught me in bed with Betty Southard, Vance’s secretary.”
    Dino began laughing.
    Stone held the phone away from his ear for a moment. “It’s not funny, Dino. I can’t have her going around pretending to be Mrs. Barrington and behaving like a wronged wife.”
    “Listen, pal, you’re talking to the guy who warned you off her, remember?”
    “Don’t rub it in. What am I going to do about her?”
    “I guess you could talk to Eduardo; you two are such good buddies. Maybe he’ll spank her, or something.”
    “Yeah, sure.”
    “I can’t think of anybody else who could handle her.”
    “Neither can I.”
    “You got the Brooklyn number?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s what I’d do, in your shoes—that, and talk to an Italian lawyer.”
    “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” Stone punched off, and it occurred to him that he knew an Italian lawyer. He dug out his wallet and found the cardinal’s card. He looked at his watch; it would be early evening in Italy. He called the operator, got the dialing code for Rome, and punched in the number.
    “Pronto,” a deep voice said.
    “Good evening,” Stone said. “My name is Stone Barrington; may I speak with Cardinal Bellini, please?”
    “Stone, how good to hear from you,” Bellini said, switching to English.
    “Thank you; I’m sorry to bother you, but I need some advice regarding Italian