L.A. Dead

Chapter 55

The cab crawled up the street. From the rear seat Stone checked the house numbers, but most of them were missing, like a lot of other things in this neighborhood. Stone had taken a taxi, because he did not want to park a Mercedes SL600 in this block.

As it turned out, the house number was unnecessary, because Felipe Cordova was sitting on his sister's front porch, drinking from a large beer bottle, while two small children played on the patchy front lawn.

"Wait for me," Stone said to the driver.

"How long you going to be?" the driver asked. "I don't like it around here."

"A couple of minutes; I'll make it worth your while."

"Okay, mister, but hurry, okay?"

Stone got out of the cab, let himself through the chain-link front gate, and approached the house.

Cordova watched him come, curious at first, until he recognized Stone. "Hey, Mr. Lawyer," he said, raising the quart in salute. "You back to see me again?"

Stone pulled up a rickety porch chair and sat down. "Yes, Felipe, and I've brought good news."

"I always like good news," Felipe replied happily.

"The police are no longer looking for you," Stone said.

"Hey, that is good news."

"But you and I have a little official business."

"Cordova's eyes narrowed. Official?"

"Nothing to worry about," Stone said, taking the subpoena from his pocket and handing it to the man. "I just need you to testify in court."

Cordova examined the document. "The day after tomorrow?"

"That's right. Ten A.M.; the address is there." He pointed.

"What's this about?"

"I just want you to answer the same questions I asked you in Mexico. And I want the same answers."

"How much do I get paid?"

"That's the bad news, Felipe; I can't pay a witness. That could get us both put in jail."

Cordova frowned. "I'm going to have expenses, man."

"You can send a bill for your expenses, your reasonable expenses, like cab fare and lunch, to this lawyer." He handed Cordova Marc Blumberg's card. "See that it doesn't come to more than a hundred bucks."

"Suppose I don't want to testify?"

"Then, the police will be looking for you, and if you leave the country, you won't be able to come back. The border patrol will have you in their computer, and you don't want that, do you?"

Cordova shook his head.

"Relax, Felipe; there's nothing to this. When you get to the courthouse, you sit on a bench outside the courtroom until you're called, and then you take the stand, swear the oath on the bible, and you answer questions."

"Just like on Perry Mason?"

"Just like that, except on Perry Mason, the witness is always the murderer. We know you're not the murderer; we just want you to tell about the woman you saw in the house, the one in the terry cloth bathrobe."

"Oh, yeah."

Stone stood up. "Be sure you remember that word, Felipe: terry-cloth. I'll see you there at ten A.M. the day after tomorrow, and remember, that document means you have to testily or be arrested. You understand?"

Cordova nodded.

Stone patted him on the back and went back to his cab. "Okay," he said, "back to Centurion Studios." He took out his cellphone and called Marc Blumberg. "He's been served."

"You think he'll show, or should I send somebody out there?"

"He'll show."

When Stone arrived at the studio bungalow, Dino and Mary Ann were waiting for him.

"So this was Vance's cottage?" Mary Ann asked while being shown around.

"This was his office and dressing room," Stone replied. "Of course, he had an RV that served as a dressing room, too. All the stars seem to have them."

A young man pulled a golf cart to the front door and got out.

"Here's your tour guide," Stone said.

"Dino, don't you want to go?"

"I've already seen enough; I'll hang out with Stone," Dino replied.

"Then we'll get some dinner," Stone said. The phone rang, and Louise answered it. "Stone, it's for you; the lady sounds upset."

Stone went into the study and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Stone, it's Charlene," she whispered.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Somebody just took a shot at me."

"Where are you?"

"At home. Somebody fired right through the sliding doors to the pool."

"Are you hurt?"

No.

"Call nine-one-one. I'll be there as fast as I can."

"Hurry."

Stone hung up the phone. "Come on," he said to Dino. "I'll explain on the way. Louise, when Mrs. Bacchetti gets back, tell her we'll be back soon, all right?" Sure.

Stone grabbed the Walther automatic and its shoulder holster from a desk drawer, then ran for the car with Dino right behind him.

"What's this about?" Dino asked as they cleared the front gate and turned into the boulevard.

"You're about to meet a movie star," Stone said.

When they pulled up in front of the Malibu Colony house, there were no police cars in sight. Stone wondered about that, but he was relieved that there was no ambulance, either.

The front door was ajar, and Stone walked in cautiously, stopping to listen. He heard nothing. It was getting dark outside, and there were no lights on in the house. "Charlene?" he called out.

"Stone?" her voice came from somewhere at the back of the house.

Stone walked quickly down the hallway, followed by Dino. "In here," Charlene's voice said from somewhere to the right.

They turned into the sitting room of the master suite. Charlene was crouched behind the little bar, and she had a nine millimeter automatic pistol in her hand. She rushed to Stone and threw an arm around him. She was naked. "I'm so glad you're here," she said, the gun at her side.

"This is my friend Dino Bacchetti," Stone said.

"Nice to meet you," Dino said, looking her up and down. He reached out and took the pistol from her, removed the clip, and ejected a cartridge from the chamber.

"Why don't you get into some clothes," Stone said.

She ran into the bedroom.

Stone looked around. The big glass door to the pool side patio had shattered, and glass was everywhere.

Charlene returned, tying the sash on a dressing gown and wearing shoes.

"Where are the police?" Stone asked. "Surely they've had time to get here."

"I didn't call the police," she said.

"Why not?"

"I called you, instead."

"Start at the beginning, and tell me what happened."

"I was lying on the sofa there, reading a script, when I heard two shots. The glass door shattered, and I rolled off the sofa onto the floor and crawled over to the bar as fast as I could. My gun was in a drawer there."

"Dino, will you take a look around out back?"

"Sure."

"Wait a minute," Charlene said. She went to a wall switch and turned on the lights around the pool. "That'll help."

Dino slapped the clip back into Charlene's gun, worked the action, then went outside, the pistol hanging at his side.

"Do you think this was a serious attempt on your life?" Stone asked.

"Come here," Charlene replied, leading him around the sofa and pointing.

Stone looked at the two neat holes halfway down the back cushion.

"My head was right under the holes," Charlene said.

"You should have called the police immediately; they should be trying to find out who did this."

"I know who did it," Charlene said. "I saw her."

Stone's innards froze. "Her?"

"I believe these days she calls herself Mrs. Stone Barrington."

"Oh, Jesus," Stone said.