Stone Barrington 27 - Doing Hard Time

me,” he said. “Call first, to be sure I’m there.”
    The driver was calling his customers to reboard the tram, and Teddy turned to joined them. “Gotta go,” he said. “I’ll see you later.” He walked outside with the others and got aboard the tram. The woman he had been sitting next to had preceded him.
    “I hear you got a job at the armory,” she said.
    “I’m just going to help them out while they’re shorthanded,” Teddy replied. “I’m Billy Barnett.”
    “I’m Margaret Talbot,” she said. “Call me Marge.”
    The tram dropped them off at the parking lot. “Can I give you a lift?” Billy said.
    “If you’re going anywhere near Santa Monica,” she replied. “I took a cab here.”
    Billy put her into his rental car and aimed it toward Santa Monica. “You’re on my way,” he said. “That’s where I live.”
    “I’ve only been in L.A. for a couple of weeks,” Marge said. “I’m an actress, and things were a little slow in New York, so I thought I’d try my luck out here.”
    “Find anything so far?”
    “I’ve had three auditions and one callback,” she said. “My agency in New York put me in touch with their L.A. office, so I didn’t have to worry about finding an agent.”
    They drove on toward Santa Monica, chatting easily. Billy looked ahead down the street and saw a Porsche dealer. “Have you got time for a few minutes’ stop?” he asked. “I’m in the market for a car.”
    “Sure, I’m not in a hurry.”
    Teddy pulled into the dealership, and they walked past a line of sparkling new Porsches to the used-car lot. Something had caught his eye.
    A salesman materialized next to them. “Can I show you something?” he asked.
    “Let’s take a look at that old Speedster,” Teddy said, pointing at what was one of the first sports cars Porsche had made.
    “Oh, she’s a beauty, isn’t she? She’s the 1958 D model. We picked her up at an auction—an estate was selling the car. The owner maintained it himself since new, and he knew what he was doing.”
    Teddy got into the car, started it, and listened. He switched off the engine, walked around the car slowly, then popped the hood. The engine bay was clean and, in some places, polished. The haggling began.

The whole group, including the Tweeds, gathered for dinner on the terrace outside Stone’s house. It was a pleasant California evening, and everyone was relaxed and chatting, until Peter came to Stone.
    “Guess who turned up at Centurion this afternoon.”
    Stone stared at his son. “Billy Burnett?”
    “Apparently I got his name wrong—it’s Barnett.”
    “Tell me about this.”
    “Ben and I had a late lunch at the studio commissary, and there was a tour group there, having Cokes and cookies. They’re there most days. Billy was among them. He called to me, and I went over and talked with him for a minute.”
    “What did you talk about?” Stone asked.
    “He told me he’d gotten a job at the studio armory. He described it as temporary.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Overhauling old rifles. I told him to call me when his work schedule allowed.”
    “Why did you do that?”
    “I figured you might like to get a look at him, to see if he’s this Teddy Fay guy.”
    “You’re right, I would like to get a look at him.”
    “If you’d like to see him sooner rather than later, I’ll take you to the armory.”
    “I’ve seen it before,” Stone said, “on my first visit to the studio some years ago.”
    “You travel with a gun, don’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Have something break, and we’ll take it to the armory to have it fixed.”
    “Tomorrow?” Stone asked.
    “I’m at the bungalow all day. Drop by, and I’ll take you to the armory, then we’ll have lunch.”
    “You’re on,” Stone said.
    •   •   •
    Teddy drove up to Sunset in his new Speedster with Marge Talbot beside him. The top was down and rush hour was over on Sunset Boulevard, so Teddy drove all the way down to the Pacific Coast Highway and turned north. “Feel like some dinner?” he asked Marge. “I saw an ad for a Greek restaurant that sounded interesting.”
    “Sure, I’d like that,” she said. “This is a delightful car.”
    “I’ve always wanted one,” Teddy said, “but the time never seemed right until now.” He shifted up, and the little car flew along the highway, with the ocean yards to their left. Marge’s hair was wild in the wind, but she didn’t seem to mind.
    Teddy drove into Malibu and