6 Stone Barrington Novels (37 page)

“Yeah, I thought I could handle her, too,” Stone said. He turned to Dino. “Is Eduardo still in L.A.?”

Dino nodded. “At the Bel-Air.”

Stone turned back to Charlene. “You want to come with us? Maybe you shouldn't stay here tonight.”

“I'll come with you,” she said. “I'll sleep at the studio in my RV; let me get some things.” She disappeared into the bedroom again.

Stone picked up the phone, dialed the Bel-Air, and asked for Eduardo.

“Yes?”

“Eduardo, it's Stone Barrington.”

“Good evening, Stone.”

“It's important that I come and see you right away.”

“Of course; I'll be here.”

“I'll be there in an hour.”

“Have you had dinner?”

“No.”

“I'll order something.”

“Thank you.” He hung up as Charlene emerged from her bedroom, wearing jeans and a sweater and carrying a small duffel.

 

They drove into town, not talking much, Charlene wedged into the space behind the two front seats. Stone dropped Dino at the bungalow. “Tell Mary Ann I'm sorry I can't have dinner, but don't tell her what's happened.”

“I'll send her back to Arrington's with the car,” Dino said. “I'm coming with you.”

“You don't have to, Dino.”

“I'm coming.”

“I'll be right back.” He drove Charlene to her RV and got her settled there. “Will you be all right here?”

“Sure, I will. The fridge is full; I'll eat something and watch TV. Will you come back later?”

“Probably not,” Stone said. “I have to take care of this.”

“I understand.”

“And thanks for not calling the police.”

She gave him a little kiss. “Go safely.” She held up the Beretta. “You want this?”

“Thanks, I have my own.” He left her and drove back to the bungalow for Dino. Mary Ann was about to leave in Arrington's station wagon, and Stone traded cars with her.

“Don't hurt her, Stone,” Mary Ann said.

“I don't intend to,” Stone replied.

 

Stone drove to the upper end of the Bel-Air Hotel complex and parked the station wagon. Followed by Dino, he found the upstairs suite and rang the bell. Eduardo, wearing a cashmere dressing gown, opened the door and ushered them in.

“Good evening, Stone, Dino,” he said.

“I'm sorry to disturb you, Eduardo,” Stone replied.

“Not at all. Come and have an aperitif; dinner will be here soon.” He pointed at the bar in the living room. “Please help yourselves; I'll have a Strega.” He picked up the phone and told room service there would be three for dinner, then he joined Stone and Dino.

Stone poured three Stregas and handed two of them to Eduardo and Dino. They raised their glasses and sipped.

“Come, sit,” Eduardo said, motioning them to a sofa. “Why have you come to see me?” he asked when they were settled.

“Eduardo,” Stone said, “I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but about two hours ago, Dolce attempted to kill Charlene Joiner, the actress you met the other evening at the Regensteins'.”

Eduardo winced, and his hand went to his forehead. His face showed no incredulity, simply painful resignation. “How did this occur?”

“Dolce apparently drove out to Malibu, parked her car, and approached Charlene's house from the beach. She fired two bullets through a sliding-glass door at Charlene, who was lying on a sofa, reading.”

“Was Miss Joiner harmed?”

“No, only frightened.”

“Do you think Dolce seriously tried to kill her?”

“I'm afraid I do, and she came very close.”

“Where would Dolce have gotten a gun out here?” Eduardo asked. He seemed to be thinking quickly.

“Apparently, she took it from my house in New York without my knowledge. The gun belonged to Dino; he had loaned it to me.”

“Does she still have the gun?”

Dino spoke up. “I saw no sign of it outside Miss Joiner's house, so I assume she does.”

“Are the police involved?”

“No,” Stone replied. “Charlene called me, instead of the police, and she has no intention of involving them.”

“Thank God for that,” Eduardo said. “This would have been so much more difficult.”

“It's difficult enough,” Stone said. “I feel responsible.”

Eduardo shook his head. “No, no, Stone; something like this has been coming for a long time. If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else.”

“Why do you say that, Eduardo?” Dino asked. “Has she ever done anything like this before?”

Eduardo shrugged. “Since she was a little girl she always reacted violently if denied something she wanted.”

The doorbell rang, and Dino jumped up. “I'll get it,” he said.

“Dolce is all right most of the time,” Eduardo said to Stone. “But she occasionally has these . . .” He didn't finish the sentence. “I had hoped that if she were happily married, she might be all right.” He stopped talking while the waiter set the dining table, then he motioned for his guests to take seats.

He poured them some wine and waited until they had begun to eat their pasta before continuing. “She's seen a psychiatrist from time to time, but she always discontinued treatment after a few sessions. Her doctor advised me at one point to have her hospitalized for a while, but instead I took her to Sicily, and after some time there, she seemed better.”

“What can I do to help?” Stone asked.

“I'll have to ask her doctor to recommend some place out here where she can be treated,” Eduardo replied.

“I believe I know a good place,” Stone said. He told Eduardo about the Judson Clinic and Arrington's stay there. “Would you like me to call Dr. Judson?”

“I would be very grateful if you would do so,” Eduardo replied.

Stone left the table, called the clinic, and asked them to get in touch with Judson and have him telephone him at the Bel-Air. “I'm sure they'll be able to find him,” he said when he had returned. “I was very impressed with Judson,” he told Eduardo.

“Good,” Eduardo said. “I'll get in touch with her own doctor and ask him to come out here and consult.”

“I expect that, after treatment, she'll be all right,” Stone said.

“I hope so,” Eduardo replied, but he did not sound hopeful.

The phone rang and Stone answered it. “Hello?”

“May I speak with Stone Barrington, please?”

“Speaking.”

“Stone, this is Jim Judson, returning your call.”

Stone briefly explained the circumstances. “Do you think you could admit her to your clinic? Her father will be in touch with her doctor in New York and ask him to come out here.”

“Of course,” Judson replied. “When can you bring her to the clinic?”

“I'm not sure,” Stone said. “We have to find her.”

“Is she likely to be violent?”

“That's a possibility, but I don't really know.”

“I'll have my people prepare, then. When you're ready to bring her here, just call the main number. I'll alert the front desk. If you need an ambulance or restraints, just let them know.”

“Thank you, Jim; I'll be in touch.” Stone hung up and returned to the table. “Dr. Judson will admit her,” he said.

“But now we have to find her,” Dino said. “Where do we look?”

Eduardo sighed. “I know where she is,” he said sadly. “She's at the home of some friends of mine who are out of the country. We'll go there together.”

Stone shook his head. “Dino and I can do this, Eduardo. Dolce is already angry with me; let's not make her angry with you, too.”

Eduardo nodded. He found a pad, wrote down the address, and handed it to Stone. “I know I don't have to ask you to be gentle with her.”

“Of course, I will be.”

“But be careful,” Eduardo said. “Don't allow her to endanger you or Dino.”

Stone nodded and shook Eduardo's hand. “When this is done,” Eduardo said, “there's something else I must talk with you about. Please call me.”

“I'll call you as soon as we get Dolce to the clinic.” He and Dino left before dessert arrived.

 

 

 

W
ITH DINO NAVIGATING, STONE FOUND THE HOUSE. It was on Mulholland Drive, high above the city, a contemporary structure anchored to the mountainside by a cradle of steel beams. The front door was at street level, but the rear deck, Stone noticed, was high above the rocky hillside. The house was dark, but there was a sedan with a Hertz sticker on the bumper parked in the carport.

Stone parked on the roadside and headed for the front door, but Dino stopped him.

“Give me a couple of minutes to get around back,” he said.

“Dino, the back of the house is at least fifty feet off the ground.”

“Just give me a couple of minutes.”

Stone stood at the roadside and looked out at what was nearly an aerial view of Los Angeles—a carpet of lights arranged in a neat grid, disappearing into a distant bank of smog, with a new moon hanging overhead. The air seemed clearer up here, he thought, taking a deep breath of mountain air. How had it come to this? he wondered. What had started as a passionate affair and had ripened into something even better was now broken into many pieces, ruined by Dolce's obsession with him and his own bond with Arrington. He didn't know where this would all end, but nothing looked promising. He glanced at his watch, then started up the driveway to the house.

The house's entry was dark, but as he approached, his feet crunching on gravel, he saw that the front door was ajar. He stopped and listened for a moment. Music was coming from somewhere in the interior of the house—a Mozart symphony, he thought, though he couldn't place it. Some instinct told him not to ring the doorbell. He pushed the door open a little and stepped inside into a foyer. He could hear the music better now. It seemed to be coming from the living room, beyond. He moved forward. A little moon and starlight came through the sliding-glass doors to the deck, on the other side of the living room. He walked down a couple of steps. He could see the dim outlines of furniture. Then the silence was broken.

“I knew you'd come, Stone,” Dolce said.

Stone jumped and looked around, but he couldn't find her. “Do you mind if we turn on a light?”

“I prefer the dark,” she said. “It's better for what I have to do.”

“You don't have to do anything, Dolce,” he said. “Just relax; let's sit down and talk for a little while.”

“Talking's over,” she said. “We're way beyond talk, now.”

“No, we can always talk.”

The sound of two light pistol shots cracked the silence, and Stone dove for the floor, but not before the muzzle flash illuminated her, standing with her back to the fireplace, holding the pistol in both hands, combat-style.

“Stop it, Dolce!” he shouted. “Don't make things worse.” He crawled behind a sofa, while wondering why his own gun was not in his hand.

She fired again, and he felt the thud against the sofa. “Things can always get worse,” she said. Then he heard a sharp thud, and something large made of glass shattered against the stone floor.

“Stone?” It was Dino's voice. “Are you hit?”

“No,” Stone replied. “Can I stand up?”

“Yes. She's out.”

Stone stood up, found a lamp at the end of the sofa and switched it on. Dino stood before the fireplace, a short-barreled .38 in his hand, looking down. Stone came around the sofa and saw Dolce crumpled on the floor among the shards of the glass coffee table. Dino was standing on the hand that held the .32 automatic. Stone went to her and gently turned her over. “What did you hit her with?” he asked.

“The edge of my hand, across the back of the neck. I'm sure I didn't hurt her.” He picked up the .32, removed the clip, worked the action, and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Stone picked up the ejected cartridge and handed it to Dino. “We'd better find the spent shells,” he said. “Otherwise, when the owners return home they'll be calling the police.”

Dino rummaged around the broken glass and recovered the shell casings. “I've got three,” he said. “There was only one more, in the breech.”

Stone found a phone and called the clinic. “This is Stone Barrington,” he said to the woman who answered.

“Yes, Mr. Barrington, we've been expecting your call.”

“We're on our way there.”

“Will you require any sort of restraints?”

“I don't know,” he replied. “Best be ready, though.”

“We'll expect you shortly. Do you know how to get into the garage?”

“Yes.”

“You'll be met there and brought up in the elevator.”

“Good.” Stone hung up, got his arms under Dolce, and picked her up. “Let's get her to the car,” he said.

Dino closed the front door behind them, then got into the rear seat of the station wagon, helping Stone move Dolce's unconscious form into the car, then Stone went around to the driver's side.

“I hope to God we can get out of here before the cops show up,” Dino said. “Some neighbor must have heard the shots.”

Stone started the car and headed down Mulholland. “They'll find an empty house,” he said.

“And a mess. Eduardo had better send somebody up there to clean up.”