L.A. Dead

Chapter 50

Stone and Charlene sat on the patio overlooking the sea. The guests had all gone, and they were having a cold supper.

"Tell me everything you know about Beverly Walters," he said.

"Haven't I already?"

"I've heard bits and pieces, but I'd like to hear what you know about her."

Charlene took a deep breath, swelling her lovely breasts. "Well, she came out here as an actress. She'd had a nice part on Broadway, and somebody at Centurion saw her and brought her out to test her. She had a few small parts, but she didn't seem to be going anywhere, then she met Gordon, her husband, on a picture, and pretty soon they were married."

"Did she screw around after she was married?"

"Sugar, you have to remember where you are. It would have been a lot more noteworthy if she hadn't screwed around, and nobody took note of that."

"Did she ever sleep with Vance?"

"If she did she never talked about it, but I wouldn't be surprised. Quite apart from Vance's talents as a lover, lots of women would have slept with him just to be able to say they did. Beverly would have been one of those."

"But she never said she did?"

"Not to me, and I suppose, not to any woman I know, because I would have heard about it within minutes."

"Lots of people knew Vance slept around?"

"They did before he got married, but after that, he became a lot more discreet."

"He didn't stop sleeping around, he just became more discreet about it?"

"That's about right. As part of being more discreet, he might have slept with fewer women. I never discussed it with him."

"I don't mean to pry, but when you and Vance were sleeping together, it was after he was married?"

"Sure, you mean to pry, but I don't mind. Yes, it was afterward."

"Where did you meet?"

"My RV or his."

"Ever at his bungalow?"

"Once or twice, late, after Betty had gone for the day."

"He wouldn't have wanted Betty to know?"

"I guess not. Word was, they once had a thing going. Maybe he thought she might be jealous." Stone picked at his salmon and sipped his wine.

"What are you thinking, Stone?"

"Sorry, I was just letting my mind wander. Sometimes that helps me sort things out."

"Have you sorted something out?"

"No."

Charlene laughed.

"Beverly did something strange tonight."

"What did she do?"

Stone told her about the incident in the powder room.

"She was probably hoping you'd ravish her on the spot."

"No, it wasn't like that."

Charlene shrugged. "Did you talk to Dr. Lansing Drake at all?"

"No," Stone replied.

"He seemed to get a little skittish when I mentioned you."

"He behaved oddly at dinner last night, too. Why might he feel uncomfortable around me?"

"Damned if I know."

"Tell me about Dr. Drake."

"He's the doctor of choice in Beverly Hills and Bel-Air," Charlene said.

"Why?"

"He's pretty easygoing; if somebody wants a Valium prescription, he's not going to give them a hard time about it. He knows how to keep his mouth shut, too. I'll bet he's cured more cases of the clap and gotten more people secretly into rehab than any doctor in town."

"Is he a decent doctor?"

"There are jokes about that, but I've never heard anybody say he really screwed up on something. I mean, he hasn't killed anybody that I know of. I think his principal talent is that he knows when to refer somebody to a specialist. That's his motto: When in doubt, refer. He can't get into too much trouble that way."

"I gather he's pretty social."

"Oh, he doesn't miss too many parties. He's not on everybody's A list, but he probably makes most B-plus lists. I think that's where he gets most of his business. People sidle up to him at a party and ask him about a rash, or something, and the next thing you know they're his patients. He's very charming."

"Did Vance go to him?"

"Oh, Vance thought he was Albert fucking Schweitzer. I've heard him talk about Lansing in the most glowing terms."

"So Vance trusted him."

"Implicitly."

"Is he your doctor?"

"For anything up to and including a skint knee. I've got a gynecologist who gets most of my business. I'm a healthy girl; I've never really been sick with anything worse than the flu."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"As a matter of fact, I'm feeling particularly healthy tonight. You don't have to be anywhere, do you?"

"I'm happy where I am," he replied.

She stood up, took him by the hand, and led him into the house and toward her bedroom. Once there, she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor.

"Promise you won't ruin my health," he said.

"Sugar," she replied, working on his buttons, "I'm not making any such promise."

"Be gentle," he said.

"Maybe," she replied, leading him toward the bed, and not by the hand.