Stuart Woods_Stone Barrington 21

work a little late, and the strong coffee she was drinking had not yet cured her hangover. The social part of this job, she thought, could kill you, especially when combined with the kind of sex life she was accustomed to. She was still wearing the clothes she had changed into last evening for going out.
    Kelli went into a ladies’ room booth, moistened some paper towels, removed her panties, and gave herself a going-over. That accomplished, she took a fresh pair from her purse and put them on. Now she felt better.
    She came out of the booth to find Prunella Wheaton standing before the mirror, touching up her makeup. “Good morning, Prunie,” she said.
    “Ah, Kelli,” Wheaton replied. “You’re looking a little drawn this morning. Rough night?”
    “Not rough, just long.”
    “I’m learning that you and I are more than a little alike,” Wheaton said, “at least, when I was your age. I used to come into work after a night of fucking, with it showing on my face, just like you.”
    Kelli checked her face in the mirror and made repairs.
    “Come and see me when you have reconstituted yourself,” Wheaton said as she left.
    Kelli walked down the hall to Wheaton’s office, accepted hot coffee in her china cup, and sipped it gratefully. “I’m at a dead end on the Calder/Barrington story,” she said.
    “What’s the problem?” Wheaton asked.
    “There are two problems,” Kelli replied. “First, I ran a check on a birth certificate with Vance Calder listed as father and got back a message saying, ‘Document sealed by the court.’”
    “Ah,” Wheaton said, “you’re not going to be able to break that seal, unless you have a records clerk willing to risk his job for a couple of hundred bucks.”
    “I was afraid of that,” Kelli replied.
    “What’s the second problem?” Wheaton asked.
    “I also ran a check, just for the hell of it, on a birth certificate for a Peter Barrington, and I found one.” She removed a copy from her purse and handed it to Wheaton. “Have a look.”
    Wheaton read the whole certificate. The parents listed were Christine Carter Barrington and Stone Barrington. “It seems to be in order. What’s the problem?”
    “Look at the date of birth,” Kelli replied.
    Wheaton looked and seemed to do the math. “This makes the boy eighteen,” she said, furrowing her brow, “and Arrington’s name wasn’t Barrington that long ago.”
    “But if the boy was born when your source said he was, that is, after the marriage of Calder and Carter, he would be only sixteen now.”
    “That is baffling,” Wheaton said, shaking her head and reading the certificate again. “But why would they want the boy born two years earlier? That would obviate Calder as the father and make the boy a bastard. Is it possible that Stone and Arrington had an earlier marriage and were divorced? And that the boy was two when she was remarried to Vance?”
    “There’s no record of either Arrington or Stone being married to anybody before the marriage to Calder, at least, not in New York or California,” Kelli said. “I checked the records.”
    “The other thing is,” Wheaton said, “as far as we know, Arrington and Stone were both living in New York for the four years prior to the marriage to Vance. So why would the birth be registered in L.A.?”
    “I don’t know, and the birth certificate doesn’t list the address of either of them. Also, you can’t live in L.A. without driving, and Arrington didn’t get a California driver’s license until shortly after she was married to Vance.”
    “Maybe the boy’s birth date is just a typo on the certificate,” Wheaton said. “Why don’t you check the hospital records and see if they match the year on the certifi cate.”
    “Which hospital was it?” Kelli asked.
    Wheaton looked at the certificate again. “Uh-oh,” she said.
    “What?”
    “I missed this the first time. The birth took place at the Judson Clinic, in Beverly Hills.”
    “I’ll call them.”
    “Don’t bother,” Wheaton said. “The Judson Clinic is a very private hospital, the sort of place that tout Hollywood goes to when they want a quiet abortion, or a quiet detox, or a quiet breakdown. Vance was very private. There was no birth announcement in the papers, even, and it didn’t make the columns. You won’t crack the Judson.”
    “Well, shit,” Kelli said in disgust. “I’m all out of options.”
    “Then get Arrington on the phone and ask her to explain all