L.A. Dead

Chapter 13

STONE COULD HAVE SPOTTED the two men as detectives in any city in the United States. They were both middle-aged, dressed in middling suits that revealed bulges under the left arm to anyone looking for them. Sam Durkee was at least six-four and beefy in build; Stone made him as an ex-athlete. Ted Bryant was shorter, bald and pudgy. He didn't expect either of them to be stupid, and his plan was to be as cooperative as humanly possible, without handing them his client on a platter.

He shook their hands, then led them upstairs to Arrington's room. She was sitting up in bed wearing cotton pajamas; Dr. Judson was at her bedside. Stone made the introductions, and everybody pulled up a chair.

Durkee took the lead. "Mrs. Calder," he said, "first, I want to offer the department's condolences on your loss."

"Thank you," Arrington said, managing a wan smile.

"I hope you understand that there are questions we must ask, if we're to apprehend your husbands killer; I know this won't be pleasant, but we'll keep it as short as we can, and we'd like the fullest answers you can give us."

"I'll do my best," Arrington replied.

"What do you recall about the evening your husband was shot?"

"Absolutely nothing, I'm afraid. I remember going to the hairdresser's the day before, the Friday, but I don't remember driving home, or anything after that, until I woke up here."

A Friday memory was progress, Stone thought.

"Are you beginning to pick up pieces of your memory?" Bryant asked.

"It seems so," she said. "Every day, I remember a little more."

"Are you aware that your husband owned a gun?"

"He told me so, but I never saw it."

"Was he the sort of man who would have used a gun to defend his home?"

"He certainly was; I'm sure that's why he owned it."

"Do you know where he kept the gun?"

"No."

Stone spoke up. "The buder told me that Mr. Calder kept a nine millimeter pistol in the same safe where he kept his jewelry."

"Thank you," Durkee replied. "Mrs. Calder, how would you characterize your marriage?"

"As a very happy one," Arrington replied.

"Did you and your husband ever quarrel?"

"Of course." She smiled a litde. "But our quarrels were almost always good-humored. You might call them mock quarrels. We argued about lots of things, but always with respect and affection."

"You say your quarrels were 'almost' always good-humored. Did they ever become violent?"

"You mean, did Vance ever hit me? Certainly not."

"Did you ever hit him?"

She looked down. "I can remember slapping him, once and only once. He'd said something that offended me."

"What did he do when you slapped him?"

"He apologized, and it never happened again. My husband was a gendeman in every possible sense of the word."

"When you argued, what did you argue about?"

"He would give me a hard time, sometimes, about how much shopping I did. Vance had a tailor, a shirtmaker, and a bootmaker; he ordered his clothes from swatches, so shopping was very simple for him. I think it both amused and horrified him how to learn how women shop. He could never understand why I would buy things, then take them back the next day."

"Any other subjects you argued about?"

"Sometimes wed disagree on child rearing. Vance believed strongly in corporal punishment, and I didn't. Hed been brought up that way by his parents, and in English schools, and he thought if it was good enough for him, it was good enough for his son."

"Did he use corporal punishment often with your child?"

"Rarely, and then only a palm applied to the bottom."

"And you disagreed with that?"

"Yes. I was never struck, as a child, and I didn't want Peter to be."

"What else did you disagree about?"

She shrugged. "I can't think of anything else specifically."

"What about women?"

"There were one or two of my friends he didn't like much, but he tolerated them for my sake."

"That's not what I mean," Durkee said. "Are you aware that your husband had a reputation for sleeping with his leading ladies?"

Arrington smiled. "That was before we were married. My husband walked the straight and narrow."

"And if you had learned that he didn't, might that have provoked a quarrel?"

"It might have provoked a divorce," Arrington replied. "When we married, I let him know in no uncertain terms what I expected of him in that regard."

"And what did you expect?"

"Fidelity."

"Were you always faithful to him?"

"Always," she replied.

"Was there any man in your past for whom you still felt… affection?"

Stone was a little uncomfortable with this, but he kept a straight face and waited for her answer.

"I feel affection for a number of friends," Arrington replied, "but I was as faithful to my husband as he was to me."

Stone didn't like this answer, and he saw the two detectives exchange a glance.

Arrington saw it, too. "What I mean is, I was faithful to him, and he was faithful to me."

"Mrs. Calder, are you acquainted with a woman named Charlene Joiner?"

"Of course; she costarred with my husband in a film."

"Were you and Ms. Joiner friends?"

"No; we met a few times, and our relationship was cordial, but I wouldn't call us friends. The last time I saw her was when she and Vance cohosted a political fund-raiser at our house."

"Would it surprise you to learn that your husband, while he was filming with Ms. Joiner, was spending considerable periods of time in her trailer?"

"No; I suppose they had lines to read together."

Bryant spoke up. "Mrs. Calder, when did you become aware that your husband was having sex with Ms. Joiner?"

"I was not and am not aware of that," she replied icily.

"Come on, Mrs. Calder," Bryant said impatiendy, "while they were filming together, your husband stopped having sex with you, didn't he?"

They were good cop/bad copping her, and Stone hoped Arrington had the sense to realize it. He made no move to stop them.

"My husband and I had a very satisfactory sex life, and I can't remember any period of our marriage when that wasn't the case," Arrington replied firmly.

"Do you not recall ever telling another woman that your husband had stopped making love to you?"

Arrington frowned. "Ah," she said, "I think I know what you're getting at. A friend of mine once complained to me that her husband had stopped sleeping with her, and I believe I tried to commiserate by telling her that all couples went through periods like that. I think you must have spoken with Beverly Walters."

"Do you deny telling Mrs. Walters that your husband had stopped rucking you?" Bryant demanded.

Stone began to speak, but Arrington held up a hand and stopped him. "I think Mrs. Walters may have inferred a bit more than I meant to imply," she said, and her color was rising.

"Mrs. Calder," Durkee said, breaking in, "if you had learned that your husband was having sex once, sometimes twice a day with Ms. Joiner in her trailer, would that have made you angry?"

"Hypothetically? Yes, I suppose it would have hurt me badly."

"When you are hurt by a man, do you respond angrily?"

"I have a temper, Detective Durkee, but on the occasions when it comes out, I have never harmed another human being."

"When was the last time you fired a handgun?" Bryant asked suddenly.

"I have never fired a pistol," she replied.

"But you know how, don't you?"

"I have never, to the best of my recollection, even held a handgun."

"Mrs. Calder," Durkee asked, "where is your husbands jewelry box?"

"I'd like very much to know, detective; I had hoped that, by now, you might be able to tell me."

"Where did you hide the jewelry box and the pistol?"

"I didn't hide either of them anywhere," she replied.

"But you say you don't remember anything about the shooting. How could you remember not hiding them?"

"To the very best of my recollection, I have not handled either my husband's jewelry box or his gun."

"Mrs. Calder, do you recall hearing or reading somewhere that perfume applied to the hands and arms removes any trace of having fired a weapon?"

"No, I don't."

"What kind of perfume do you use?"

"I use several, but my favorite is Chanel No. 5."

"Did you use that the night your husband was shot?"

"I don't remember the night my husband was shot."

"Would you use perfume before taking a bath?"

Arrington looked at him as if he were mad. "No."

"Then why would you reek of perfume on getting out of a bath?"

"I use bath oil, detective, of the same scent as my perfume, but generally speaking, I never reek."

Stone supressed a smile. He sensed that the two detectives were running out of questions, but he didn't rush them.

"Mrs. Calder," Durkee said, "I have to tell you that, after investigating your husband's murder very thoroughly, we have concluded that the two of you were alone in the house when he was shot."

"That hardly seems possible," Arrington replied. "Otherwise, where are the jewelry box and the gun?"

"We believe you hid them after shooting your husband."

"Where? Have you searched our house?"

"We haven't found them-yet," Bryant said.

"Let me know when you do," Arrington said. "Otherwise, I'll have to file an insurance claim."

Durkee stood up. "I believe that's all for now," he said, turning to Stone. "I want to be notified when she leaves the hospital, and I want to know where she goes."

"I'll give you a call," Stone said, walking both men toward the door.

When they were outside, Bryant turned to Stone. "She killed him," he said.

"Nonsense," Stone said. "It's obvious that someone got into the house. Haven't you found any evidence of anyone else?"

The two detectives exchanged a glance.

"I want disclosure," Stone said.

"Are you licensed to practice law in the state of California?" Bryant asked.

"No."

"My advice is to get her a lawyer who is. I'm sure the D.A. will disclose to him."

Stone watched as the two detectives walked to their car. He didn't like the way this was going.