Stone Barrington 06-11

it’s Stone.”
    “How’s sunny California?”
    “You said you had some time off coming; why don’t you come out here and see for yourself? And bring Mary Ann?”
    “You in some kind of trouble, pal?”
    “Maybe, I’m not sure.”
    “Dolce?”
    “Possibly. A woman I had dinner with, somebody I’d met twice, died in a fire last night, not long after I left her house. It was arson, and they suspect her ex-husband, but …”
    “And how can Mary Ann and I help?”
    “You can come and stay at Arrington’s.”
    “As extra security?”
    “As houseguests. She says she’d love to see you both. She’s been stuck alone in the house for too long, and cabin fever is setting in. There’s a wonderful guesthouse, and some acreage; Mary Ann would love it.”
    “Hang on,” Dino said, and put Stone on hold.
    Stone tapped his fingers, waiting. He was beginning to feel a little cabin feverish, himself, even if he wasn’t confined to quarters, and he missed his dinners with Dino at Elaine’s.
    “I’m back,” Dino said. “Mary Ann’s on board; we’ll be out there tomorrow afternoon.”
    “That’s great,” Stone said. “I’ll arrange for Arrington’s butler to meet you at the airport, and we’ll all have dinner together. The butler’s name is Manolo; call Arrington’s and leave your flight time with either him or her.”
    “Will do.”
    “Tell Mary Ann not to bring a lot of clothes; she can buy everything she needs on Rodeo Drive.”
    “Yeah, sure. If you mention that, I’ll shoot you.”
    “Speaking of shooting, bring something, and will you stop by my house and bring me the Walther from my safe? Joan will open it for you; give her a call. And that little piece you loaned me is on my bedside table.”
    “Okay, see you tomorrow.” Dino hung up.
    Stone called Arrington and told her the news.
    “I’ll have Isabel plan something special for dinner,” she said.
    “Sounds great. Dino will let you know their flight time.”
    “Why don’t you and I have dinner tonight?”
    “Behave yourself.”
    “Oh, all right; just be here at seven tomorrow evening.”
    “I wouldn’t miss it.” Stone said good-bye and hung up. Almost immediately, the phone buzzed.
    “Yes?”
    “Charlene Joiner on line one.”
    He punched the button. “Hello, Charlene, how are you?”
    “Terrible,” she replied. “I’m very upset about Vanessa.”
    “It was a very bad thing.”
    “Did you know her, Stone?”
    “I met her at Marc Blumberg’s Palm Springs place a couple of days ago.”
    “You were right about the police; they’re on their way over here now. Maybe you and I should talk before I meet them.”
    “No, you don’t need a lawyer; just answer their questions truthfully. If we met first, it might make them think I’m involving myself in their case even more than I’m already involved.”
    “How are you already involved?”
    “I had dinner at Vanessa’s house last night; apparently, I was the last person to see her alive.”
    “Lucky Vanessa! At least she went with a smile on her face.”
    “It wasn’t like that, Charlene,” Stone said. “When can we get together?”
    “Why don’t you come over here for lunch? I’ll be done with the police by then, say one o’clock, and I don’t have to be back on the set until three.”
    “All right, where are you?”
    “In the biggest fucking RV you ever saw,” she said, “parked at the rear of sound stage six. It’s got ‘Georgia Peach’ painted on the side.”
    “I’ll find it. See you at one.”
    “I’ll look forward.”

Forty-three

    S TONE FOUND THE RV AT THE BACK OF THE SOUND stage, and Charlene had not overstated its size. It looked as long as a Greyhound bus, and it, indeed, had “Georgia Peach” painted on the side. Stone was about to get out of his car when he saw the two policemen, Rivera and Goldman, leaving the big vehicle. He waited until they had driven away before getting out of his car.
    He knocked on the RV door and, a moment later, it was opened by a plump middle-aged woman wearing horn-rimmed glasses, with a pencil stuck in her hair.
    “You Barrington?” she asked.
    “That’s me.”
    “I’m Sheila, come on in.” She sat down at a desk behind the driver’s seat and pointed at a door a few feet away. “Charlene’s expecting you.”
    Stone rapped on the door.
    “Come on in, Stone,” came the voice through the door.
    Stone opened the door and stepped into a surprisingly well-furnished room. It contained a sofa,