Part 21 (1/2)

L.A. Dead Stuart Woods 33570K 2022-07-22

”I think it's the O.J. thing,” Stone said. ”They lost that one, and now they want a big conviction to salvage their reputations.”

”Possibly.”

”Will you let me know what you hear about the Mexican gardener?”

”I'll do that.”

”Talk to you later,” Stone said into the phone, and hung up. He walked into Betty's office, but she was not at her desk. He felt the need for a shower and went into the bedroom. He undressed and stretched out on the bed, thinking to relax for a few minutes. Then Betty came out of the bathroom, and she was naked.

”Oh!” she said. ”Sorry, I thought you'd be on the phone for a while.”

”It's okay, Betty,” he said, getting up. ”It's not the first time we've seen each other in the buff.”

She walked over and put her arms around him. ”I just want to see if this feels as good as I remember. It does.”

”It certainly does,” Stone agreed. Then, before he could get into trouble, he held her off a few inches. ”If I'm not careful, you'll seduce me,” he said.

Betty laughed.

Then there was a blinding flash of light, followed by another. Stone and Betty both turned toward the door, astonished. The flash came again, then there was the sound of running feet leaving the cottage.

Stone blinked, trying to regain his vision.

”What the h.e.l.l was that?” Betty cried.

”I don't know; what's the number for the main gate?”

Betty dialed the number and handed the phone to Stone.

”Main gate,” the guard said.

”This is Stone Barrington; we've had an intruder in Mr. Calder's bungalow. Who's come in this morning?”

”In the last half hour, only Mrs. Barrington,” the man replied.

”There is no Mrs. Barrington! is no Mrs. Barrington!” Stone yelled. ”Don't let her in here again!” He hung up and turned to Betty. ”I'm sorry, it was Dolce; I didn't even know she was still in town.”

”Well,” Betty said, ”ask her if I can have a set of prints.”

”That would be funny, if I weren't so p.i.s.sed off.”

”Where were we?” Betty asked.

But Stone was already dressing.

”Where are you going?”

”I'm going to put a stop to this thing with Dolce.”

”And how are you going to do that?”

”I'll talk to her.”

”Lotsa luck,” Betty said. ”Looks to me as though you're past talking.”

Twenty-seven.

STONE PARKED VANCE CALDER'S MERCEDES IN THE upper parking lot of the Bel-Air Hotel and walked quickly to Dolce's suite. He was going to have to have this out with her, once and for all. He rapped sharply on the door and waited.

A moment later the door was opened by a white-haired woman in her sixties, dressed in a hotel robe. ”Yes?” she said, looking at him suspiciously.

”May I see Miss Bianchi, please?”

”I'm sorry, you have the wrong room,” the woman replied, starting to close the door.

”May I ask, when did you check in?”

”About noon,” she replied and firmly shut the door.

Stone walked down to the lobby and the front desk. ”Yes, Mr. Barrington?” the young woman at the desk said. ”Are you checking in again?”

”No, I'm looking for Miss Dolce Bianchi. Has she changed rooms?”

”Let me check,” the woman said, tapping some computer keys. ”I'm afraid I don't see a Miss Bianchi.”

”Try Mrs. Stone Barrington,” Stone said, through clenched teeth.

”Ah, yes. Mrs. Barrington checked out last night.”

”And her forwarding address?”

She checked the computer screen and read off the address of Eduardo's house in Manhattan.

”Thank you,” Stone said.

”Of course,” she replied. ”We're always happy to see you, Mr. Barrington.”

”Thank you, and by the way, would you inform the management that there is no no Mrs. Stone Barrington? The woman's name is Dolce Bianchi, and should she check in again, I would be grateful if you would not allow her to use my name in the hotel.” Mrs. Stone Barrington? The woman's name is Dolce Bianchi, and should she check in again, I would be grateful if you would not allow her to use my name in the hotel.”

”I'll speak to the manager about it,” the woman replied, looking baffled.

”Thank you very much,” Stone said, managing a smile for the woman. He walked back to the parking lot, switched on the ignition, and called the Bianchi house in Manhattan. He got an answering machine for his trouble. Frustrated, he called Dino's number at home.

”h.e.l.lo?” Mary Ann, Dino's wife, answered.

”Hi, Mary Ann, it's Stone.”