L.A. Dead

Chapter 40

Stone followed Vanessa's instructions to a quiet street up in the Hollywood Hills, above Sunset Boulevard, where they turned into the driveway of a pretty, New England-style, shingled cottage. They had been quiet all the way.

"You all right?" she asked, when they had stopped.

"Yes, sure," Stone said.

"Tell you what: "Why don't you come in, and I'll fix you some dinner?"

"I don't want to put you to any trouble, Vanessa."

"I gotta eat, you gotta eat," she replied.

"Okay." He got out of the car, followed her to the front door and waited while she unlocked it and entered the security system code. The house was larger than it had seemed from the outside, and prettily decorated and furnished.

"There's a wet bar over there," she said, pointing to a cabinet. "Fix us a drink; I'll have a Johnny Walker Black on the rocks."

Stone opened the cabinet, found the scotch, and found a bottle of Wild Turkey, too. He poured the drinks and followed her into the kitchen. There was a counter separating the cooking area from a sitting room, and he took a stool there. He wondered if she would now strip to the waist and walk around as she had in Palm Springs.

Vanessa turned out to be something of a mind reader. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm not going to take any clothes off. That was Marc's idea, in Palm Springs."

"Marc's idea? Why would he ask you to do that?"

"Oh, I was already fairly naked; he just asked me not to get dressed. Marc is concerned about you."

"Concerned how?"

"He thinks you need… companionship." She began rummaging in the refrigerator.

"Oh."

"Marc is a very kind man; I owe him a lot."

"Why?"

"I was in the middle of an awful divorce, and my lawyer was intimidated by my ex's lawyer. I ran into Marc at a cocktail party and complained about it, and he said he'd fix it. He did. He renegotiated my setdement, got me the Bel-Air house and a lot of money. I sold that house, bought this place, and invested the difference. If not for Marc, I'd probably be working as a secretary somewhere. As it is, I'm well fixed."

"Good for him," Stone said.

"He thinks that if you're fucking Arrington, it could hurt his case.

"He has made that point," Stone said.

"You two were an item before she married Vance, weren't you?"

"Yes, we were."

"Will you be again, assuming she doesn't go to prison?"

"Hard to say," Stone replied.

"Is that what you want?"

"Sometimes I do; other times, I don't know," he admitted.

Vanessa smiled. "I think it's what you want." She switched on the gas grill of the restaurant-style stove and put the steaks on, then started to make a salad.

Stone watched her move expertly around the kitchen. She was beautiful, smart, and, he did not doubt, affectionate. But Arrington was on his mind, and he could not get that out of the way.

They had finished dinner and were sipping a brandy before the living room fireplace.

"I'm having a tough time making a decision," Vanessa said.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"I'm in something of an ethical quandary. I've promised a friend to keep something in confidence, but to do that might harm someone else."

"That's a tough one," Stone said.

"The person who might be harmed is not a particular friend, though I have nothing against this person."

"Then why are you having so much trouble keeping your promise to your friend?"

"Because it might help Marc-and you-if I told you about it."

"Is there some way you can give me a hint without breaking your word to your friend?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps if I tell you a little about it without revealing the friend's identity?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Marc says that he's worried that the police might have more on Arrington than he knows about."

"I've been worried about that, too."

"Well, you're both right to be worried."

Stone sucked in a breath. "Can you tell me any more?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't think I can." She sipped her brandy. "It's just that there may very well have been a witness to what happened that night."

"You mean the Mexican gardener?"

"No, someone else. That's all I can say."

"Have you told Marc about this?"

"No, he'd just browbeat it out of me, and I'd feel terrible. I don't think you would try to do that."

Funny, Stone thought, he had been thinking about doing just that.

"Well," Stone said, "if you can ever see your way clear to tell me more, I'd like to hear it."

"I think that's unlikely," she replied.

Stone looked at his watch. "I'd better go; it's getting late."

She walked him to the door, and he gave her a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for dinner," he said, "and for the good company. I needed it."

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help," she said.

"You've at least confirmed our suspicions," Stone said, "and that's a help." He waved and started toward his car. She waited until he had backed out of the drive before closing the door.

The street was dark, and there were a few cars parked along the curb. As Stone put the car into gear and drove away, he noticed headlights appear in his rearview mirror. Funny, he thought, he hadn't seen a car coming when he'd backed out. He watched the lights in the mirror until he reached Sunset, then lost them in the traffic.