L.A. Dead

Chapter 49

The memorial for Vanessa Pike at Charlene's house seemed more of a memorial cocktail party, Stone reflected as he walked into the well-populated living room. Everyone had a drink, even if, in the California style, it was designer fizzy water, and there was a buffet at one end of the room laden with raw vegetables, melon, and other low-fat delicacies.

Charlene came and gave him a virtuous peck on the cheek. "I think you'll know a few people," she said. "Mingle while I greet."

Stone nodded, went to the bar, and waited while the barman ransacked the house for a botde of bourbon. He would not bear his grief in sobriety, no matter what the West Coast convention. While he waited, he surveyed the room, picking out most of the women he had met on his first visit to the house, along with Dr. Lansing Drake and his wife and, somewhat to his relief, Marc Blumberg. At least, he'd have somebody to talk to. He collected his drink and joined Marc.

"What've you been up to?" Marc asked.

"Not much," Stone said.

"I think it's about time to go for a motion to dismiss," Marc said.

"I'm not so sure about that," Stone replied.

"Why not?"

"Because I think it's quite possible that Beverly Walters was there when Vance was shot, and she's the prosecution's prime witness."

"Are you sure she was there?"

"As sure as I can be without putting her under oath and asking her."

Marc mulled that over for a moment. "I wonder if she hates Arrington that much, that she'd testify?"

"She hates her enough to testify to a conversation in which Arrington, apparently in jest, says she'd kill Vance if she caught him with another woman."

"You have a point," Marc admitted.

"Have you heard anything new from the investigation into Vanessa's death?" Stone asked.

"They've cleared the husband," Marc replied, nodding toward two men across the room.

Stone followed his gaze and found the two cops he'd met after the fire at Vanessa's. "What are they doing here?"

"They must think the murderer is present," Marc said. "Such a person might call attention to himself by his absence."

"Have you caught them staring at anybody?" Stone asked, glancing out the big windows toward the beach.

"They're staring at you right now," Marc said.

Stone looked back toward the two detectives and found that Marc was not lying. Both men gazed gravely back at him. Stone raised his glass a little and nodded; both men nodded back. "You think I'm all they've got?"

"I guess so."

"What do you suppose they suppose my motive is?"

"Who knows?"

"I mean, I met her only twice, both times in your company. Did you notice any murderous intentions on my part?"

Marc shrugged. "Nothing obvious."

"I suppose they've questioned you about those meetings."

"In some depth."

"Do I need a lawyer?"

"Everybody needs a lawyer."

Stone laughed.

"But probably not you, not yet."

"That's a relief; I'm not sure I could afford you."

"Probably not."

"Excuse me; I need the powder room." Stone set down his glass. He left the lawyer and walked down a hallway to the first-floor half-bath. The door was ajar and he stepped inside and switched on the light. He reached behind him to close the door, but felt a pressure on it. Then he was pushed forward into the little room and someone stepped in behind him and closed the door. Stone turned to find Beverly Walters sharing the john with him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

She reached behind her and turned the lock. "Same as you; grieving for Vanessa."

"I mean in this toilet."

"I wanted to talk to you."

"We can't talk; you're a witness against my client. Surely you must understand that."

"Of course; that's why we're talking in here."

"We're not talking at all," Stone said. "There are two police officers here, and they work for the same department that's investigating Vance's murder. They would certainly report it if they saw us talking." He started around her, but she took hold of his lapels and stopped him.

"Listen to me," she said.

"I can't listen to you," he replied, trying to free himself.

She clung to him. "I'm going to testify against Arrington," she said.

"I believe I'm aware of that," Stone replied, taking hold of her wrists and trying to disengage.

"But you don't know what I'm going to say."

"I've already heard you testify once."

"But you didn't hear everything. I saw Vance murdered."

"Ms. Walters, please let me out of here."

"I can put Arrington in prison, don't you understand?"

"You can try," Stone said, "but I expect to have something to say about that, and so does Marc Blumberg. You're not going to get a free ride on the stand."

"I want you to tell Arrington that I'm sorry. That I'm fond of her. That I don't want to do it."

"Don't want to do it?" Stone asked, growing angry. "Then why did you talk to the police?"

"I felt I had to."

"We'll, you're an admirable citizen, Ms. Walters, but now I want you to get out of my way."

"Never mind," she said. "I'll leave." She turned, unlocked the door, opened it, and closed it behind her.

Stone locked the door. What the hell was wrong with the woman? He used the john, taking his time, then washed his hands and opened the door slowly. He peeked down the hall, saw no one, then left and went back to where Marc Blumberg was still standing.

"That took a long time," Marc said. "You all right?"

"I'm extremely pissed off," Stone said. He told Marc what had happened.

"Maybe she's crazy," Marc said. "Maybe that's our approach to questioning her. I'll put somebody on her and see if we can come up with some other erratic behavior."

"She said she saw Vance murdered, and she's going to testify to that."

"Well, at least we know what she's going to say on the stand."

There was a clinking of a knife on glass, and they turned toward the sound. Charlene was standing on the steps to the foyer; they made a little stage. She asked for everyone's attention, then a series of people came up and said a few words about Vanessa. They kept it light, but the crowd looked somber.

Finally, Charlene looked at Beverly Walters. "Beverly, I'm sure you'd like to say something; you and Vanessa were so close."

Walters looked down and shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

"Of course," Charlene said. "We all know how you feel. Everybody, please stay as long as you like. There'll be a light supper in a few minutes." She stepped down and made her way across the room toward Stone and Marc Blumberg.

"You handled that gracefully," Stone said.

"It's about all I can do for Vanessa," Charlene replied.

Marc spoke up. "Is Beverly Walters usually so reticent?"

Charlene snorted. "Beverly would normally not miss a chance to be the center of attention."

Marc nodded at the two police officers across the room. "I think she's getting quite a lot of attention," he said.

Stone looked at the two men, who had eyes for no one except Beverly Walters.