6 Stone Barrington Novels (6 page)

“What's going on?”

“I haven't had time to find out, but I want you to go into our computer boilerplate, print out some documents and fax them to me soonest.”

“What do you want?”

Stone dictated a list of the documents, then hung up. Breakfast arrived and he turned on the TV news while he ate. The local channels were going nuts; the biggest star in Hollywood had been murdered, and they couldn't find out
anything
. They were treading water as fast as they could, recycling what little information they had. They couldn't find Arrington, the police wouldn't issue anything but the most basic statement, Centurion had no comment, except to express deep loss and regret, and no friend of either Vance's or Arrington's would talk to the press, even off the record, not that any of them knew anything. That was good, he thought.

The phone rang. “Hello?”

“Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes.”

“This is Hillary Carter, Arrington's mother.”

“How are you, Mrs. Carter?”

“Terrible, of course, but I'm glad you're here. Arrington badly needs someone to take charge of things.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Only for a few minutes, yesterday, and she was semiconscious. She was asking for you, though.”

“I'm seeing her at noon today.”

“Oh, good. The doctor doesn't want her to see Peter, yet; I don't know why.”

“I'll see if I can find out.”

“I'm at Vance's house, now, and the situation here is nearly out of hand. I've had to call the police to keep people from climbing over the fence.”

“I'll see if I can arrange some private security.”

“That would be a very good idea, I think.”

“Is Peter all right?”

“Yes, but he wants his mother and father, and I'm having to stall him. What I'd like to do is to get him out of this zoo and take him home to Virginia with me. Arrington is quite happy for him to come with me.”

“That might be a good idea. Can I call you after I've seen Arrington?”

“Yes, please; I'll give you Vance's most secret number. The press hasn't learned about it, yet.”

Stone wrote down the number.

“I'm so sorry we've never met face to face,” Mrs. Carter said. “Arrington has always spoken so well of you.”

“Mrs. Carter, do you have any objection to my taking over all of Arrington's legal decisions and contacts with . . . everyone outside the family?”

“I'd be very grateful if you would, but of course, I'd like to be consulted about any medical treatment beyond what she's getting now.”

“Of course. I'll talk to you later today.” He said good-bye and hung up. There was a knock on the door, and an envelope was slid under it. Stone checked the contents and found the documents Joan had faxed to him.

He telephoned Lou Regenstein.

“Yes, Stone?”

“I've just spoken with Arrington's mother, who is at Vance's house with her grandson. She says the press there is out of hand, and she's had to call the police. Can you arrange for some private security to take over that?”

“Of course; how many men do you want?”

“She says they're coming over the fence, and my recollection is that they've got a large piece of property there.”

“Something like eight acres,” Regenstein said.

“I should think half a dozen men inside the fence, two in the house and a car patrolling the perimeter of the place, twenty-four hours a day, for the time being.”

“Consider it done; anything else?”

“Mrs. Carter wants to take Peter back to Virginia with her. Do you think you could arrange transportation?”

“The Centurion jet is at her disposal,” Regenstein said. “I'll have a crew standing by in an hour.”

“I shouldn't think she'd need it until later today. Is it at Burbank?”

“Yes, but the press would know that. I'll have it moved to Santa Monica and hangared at the Supermarine terminal, until she's ready to leave.”

“Thank you, Lou. I'll call you later.”

There was nothing else to do, Stone reflected. Dino would be in the air, now, on his way back to New York. He checked his notebook, dialed the palazzo number in Venice, and asked for Eduardo.

“Stone?”

“Yes, Eduardo?”

“This is Carmen Bellini. Eduardo and Dolce are on their way back to New York. I'm spending a couple of more days here to rest, at his suggestion. Are you in Los Angeles?”

“Yes.” Stone told him most of what he knew so far. “If Eduardo contacts you before I reach him, please pass on that information.”

“Certainly. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Pray for Arrington,” Stone said.

He hung up, and it suddenly occurred to him that, since he had left Venice, he had not thought of Dolce once.

 

 

 

S
TONE COLLECTED HIS RENTAL CAR, A MERCEDES E430, and drove to the Judson Clinic, arriving at noon. The place was housed in what had been a residence, a very large one, on a quiet Beverly Hills street, set well back from the road. The reception desk was in the marble foyer, and Stone asked for Dr. Judson.

A moment later, a man appeared on the upstairs landing, waving him up. Stone climbed the floating staircase and was greeted by a distinguished-looking man in his sixties, wearing a well-cut suit. Stone thought he would make an impressive witness, if it came to that.

“Mr. Barrington? I'm Jim Judson.”

“Please, call me Stone.”

“Thanks. Come into my office, and let's talk for a moment, before we see Arrington.”

Stone followed him into a large, sunny office and took a seat on a sofa, while Judson sat across from him in a comfortable chair.

“I want to tell you what I know, thus far, so that you'll be prepared when you see Arrington,” he said.

“Please do.”

“Arrington was brought here by an ambulance on Saturday evening, at the request of her personal physician, Dr. Lansing Drake, a well-known Beverly Hills doctor. She was alternately hysterical, disoriented, and lethargic. Dr. Drake explained briefly what had occurred at her residence, and he and I agreed that she should be sedated. I injected her with twenty milligrams of Valium, and she slept peacefully through the night.

“When she awoke on Sunday morning she seemed quite calm and normal, and she immediately asked that you be contacted. She said that you were on an island in the Caribbean called St. Mark's, and that she was supposed to meet you there. My staff made repeated attempts to contact you there, without success. I reassured her that we would find you, and she seemed to accept that. She slept much of the morning, had a good lunch. When she questioned why she was here, I said that she had collapsed at home, and that I thought it a good idea for her to remain here for observation for a day or two. She accepted that.

“Late in the afternoon, her mother arrived, having flown in from Virginia. I was in the room when they met, and it became immediately apparent that Arrington was very disoriented. She seemed not to understand that she was married to Vance Calder, saying that she was supposed to interview him, but that she had changed her mind and had decided to meet you in St. Mark's instead. When her mother mentioned Peter, her son, she became disturbed again, but after a few moments seemed to understand that she had a son and that Calder was the father. Her mother, quite wisely, turned the conversation to trivial things, and after a few minutes she left. Arrington immediately went to sleep again.”

“And what do you make of all this?” Stone asked.

“It seems clear that Arrington is undergoing periods of anterograde amnesia, brought on by the shock of her husband's murder. Anterograde amnesia is a condition during which the great mass of old memories, prior to a certain point, remain intact, while the subject does not have access to more recent memories, or those memories are intermittent or scrambled—this, as opposed to retrograde amnesia, during which the subject may lose memory of all prior events, even her identity.”

“Forgive me, Jim—are you a psychologist?”

“A psychiatrist. This is, primarily, a psychiatric clinic, although we do some work with patients who have substance abuse problems.”

“Is Arrington likely to recover all her memory?”

“Yes, if the basis for her amnesia is emotional, not physical, and that seems the case. Her mother had spoken with her on the previous Sunday and said that at that time she seemed perfectly normal. If she should show signs of not recovering her memory, then I think a brain scan would be in order, to rule out a physical basis for her problem.”

“Does she know that Vance is dead?”

“That's hard to say; I haven't asked her that, directly, and when the police came here, I refused to allow her to be questioned.”

“You did the right thing,” Stone said.

“Arrington seems to have an idea that something may be wrong, but she tends to divert the conversation if it heads in a direction she doesn't want it to go. She may very well be, unconsciously, protecting herself emotionally from a situation that she is not yet ready to confront.”

“I see. Perhaps it's time to explain to her what has happened.”

“Perhaps it is. She'll have to be told sooner or later, and since she seems to have an emotional attachment to you, it might be best that she hear it from you.”

“All right. Jim, I should tell you that, for the moment, I am acting as Arrington's attorney, as well as her friend, and that, given the circumstances, you may be asked questions by the police. Should that occur, I advise you to rest on doctor-patient confidentiality and decline to answer. At a later date, with Arrington's concurrence, I may ask you to give a statement to the police or the district attorney.”

“I understand completely.”

“Shall we go and see Arrington, then?”

“Please follow me.” Judson led the way from his office, down a hallway to the last door on the right-hand side. He knocked softly.

“Come in,” a woman's voice replied.

Judson opened the door. “Arrington, I've brought someone to see you,” he said. He stepped aside and ushered Stone into the room.

The room appeared much like a guest room in a sumptuous home, except for the elevated hospital bed. On the far side of the room, a cabinet had, apparently, once held a television set, which had been removed. Sunlight streamed through the windows, which were open above a garden at the rear of the house. Arrington sat up in bed and held out her arms. “Stone!” she cried.

Stone went to her and took her in his arms, kissing her on the cheek. To his surprise, she turned his head and gave him a wet kiss on the mouth. Stone glanced at the doctor, who evinced surprise.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Much better. For a while, all I was doing was sleeping. What took you so long to get here?”

“I had to come a great distance,” he replied. “Do you feel well enough to talk for a while?”

“Yes, I do; I feel very well, actually. I'm not quite sure why Dr. Judson is keeping me here.”

“Your mother came to see you yesterday, remember?”

“Of course. We had a very nice visit. I'm sorry to have alarmed her; it was a long way for her to come, to find me perfectly well.”

“She wanted to be sure Peter was all right without you.”

Arrington's face clouded slightly. “Yes, she told me. I'm a little confused about that.”

“How so?”

“Well, apparently—this is very embarrassing—I had forgotten that I'm his mother.”

“That's all right,” the doctor interjected. “Don't worry about that.”

“Did you remember who Peter's father is?”

“Yes, after I was prompted, I'm ashamed to say. Stone, I'm so sorry; I wanted a chance to explain to you about Vance and me. I wrote to you in St. Mark's, but I suppose you must have already left there by the time the letter arrived. Can I explain?”

“Yes, go ahead,” Stone said, sitting on the side of the bed.

She took his hand in both of hers. “Stone, I think I knew that you were going to ask me to marry you when I arrived in St. Mark's. Am I right, or am I being presumptuous?”

“You're right; I was going to ask you. I had a ring, even.”

“I think I felt . . . a little panic about that, as if I weren't really ready to be your wife. I think that may be why I missed the first flight. The snowstorm was something of a relief, I'm afraid.”

“You were a free woman,” Stone said. “You didn't have to marry me.”

“Then Vance arrived in town, and although we'd known each other before, something was different this time.”

Stone recalled that Arrington had been with Vance, at a dinner party, when they had first been introduced.

“We spent all our time together, working on the interview, which turned into a
very
long conversation about everything in the world, and before I knew it, we were in love. I can't explain it; it just happened.”

“It's like that, sometimes,” Stone said.

“Do you hate me for it?”

“I could never hate you.”

“Oh, I'm so relieved,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I don't think I could be happy without you in my life—as a friend, I mean.” She blushed a little.

“I feel the same way,” Stone said. “And it's because I'm your friend that I have to tell you some things, now.” Stone took a deep breath, looked directly into her large eyes, and told her.