L.A. Dead (37 page)

“And he didn’t like that?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“So you did argue.”

Walters flushed. “If you could call it that.”

“No further questions,” Marc said. “I ask that the witness be instructed to remain available; I may wish to recall her.”

“The witness will remain available,” the judge said.

Chu stood again. “The District Attorney calls Felipe Cordova.”

The bailiff brought Cordova into the courtroom; he was sworn and took the stand.

“Mr. Cordova,” Chu said, “you were gardener to the Calders?”

“I cut the grass every week.”

“Were you present at the Calder residence on the evening Mr. Calder was murdered?”

“Yes.”

“For what reason?”

“I was looking to steal something, if I could.” He didn’t appear to be embarrassed by this answer.

“Did you have occasion to approach the rear door of the house and look inside?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I heard a noise, like a gun.”

“When you looked inside, what did you see?”

“I saw Mr. Calder, lying on the floor bleeding, and Mrs. Calder standing there, and a gun was on the floor.”

“And what did you do?”

“I ran. I didn’t want to be caught there.”

“Your witness,” Chu said to Blumberg.

Marc stood. “Mr. Cordova, you say you saw Mrs. Calder standing next to Mr. Calder’s body?”

“Yes.”

“How was she dressed?”

“In a bathrobe.”

“What kind of bathrobe?”

“You know, the terry kind.”

“Terrycloth?”

“Yes.”

“What color?”

“White.”

“Did the robe have a hood?”

“Yes, she was wearing the hood.”

“Did you see her face?”

“Not exactly.”

“Was she facing you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, if you didn’t see her face, how do you know it was Mrs. Calder?”

“I seen her before, you know, and I recognized her shape.” He made a female shape with his hands, and the courtroom tittered again.

“Since you never saw her face, is it possible that the woman you saw was not Mrs. Calder, but another woman?”

Cordova shrugged. “Maybe.”

Marc turned to the judge. “Your Honor, could we have Mrs. Walters back for a moment to try something?”

The judge waved both lawyers forward. “Just what do you want to try, Mr. Blumberg?”

“I’d like for Mrs. Walters to try on a robe for Mr. Cordova.”

“I’ve no objection, Your Honor,” Ms. Chu said.

“Go ahead. Bailiff, bring Mrs. Walters back to the courtroom.”

Beverly Walters returned, looking wary.

“Mrs. Walters,” the judge said, “I’d like you to put on a bathrobe for the court.”

Walters nodded, and Stone handed Marc a white terrycloth robe. He held it for the woman, and she put it on.

“Please put up the hood, step out of your shoes, and face the rear of the courtroom, Mrs. Walters,” Marc said. She followed his instructions, and he turned to Cordova. “What about it, Mr. Cordova? Could this be the woman you saw?” He made the woman shape with his hands.

“Yeah, she could be,” Cordova said.

“No further questions,” Marc said.

Ms. Chu was on her feet. “Your Honor, now I’d like for Mrs. Calder to try on the robe for Mr. Cordova.”

“Any objection, Mr. Blumberg?” the judge asked.

“None whatsoever, Your Honor.”

The courtroom watched as Arrington slipped into the white robe and turned her back on Cordova.

“Mr. Cordova,” Chu said, “could this be the woman you saw?”

Cordova nodded. “Yeah. I guess it could be either one of them; they look pretty much the same.”

“No further questions, Your Honor. That concludes the District Attorney’s presentation.”

“Mr. Blumberg,” the judge said, “do you have any witnesses?”

“Your Honor, we call Isabel Sanchez.”

Isabel came into the courtroom, was sworn, and took the stand.

“Your Honor, my colleague, Mr. Stone Barrington of the New York Bar, will question this witness.”

The judge nodded assent.

“Mrs. Sanchez,” Stone began, “are you and your husband employed by Mrs. Arrington Calder?”

“Yes, we are,” Isabel replied.

“How long have you worked for her?”

“Since she married Mr. Calder. We worked for fifteen years for him before they married.”

“Do you, personally, perform the duties of a maid in the household?”

“Yes.”

“Do your duties require you to deal with Mrs. Calder’s wardrobe?”

“Yes, I do her laundry—her underthings and washables—and I gather things to be sent to the dry cleaners and an outside laundry.”

“Would you say that you are familiar with Mrs. Calder’s wardrobe?”

“Oh, yes, very familiar. I know her clothes as well as I know my own.”

“Tell me, does Mrs. Calder own a terrycloth robe?”

“Yes, she does. She has terrycloth robes for the guesthouse, four of them, for the two bedrooms.”

“What color are the guesthouse robes?”

“They are bright yellow.”

Stone held up the white robe. “Is this Mrs. Calder’s robe?”

“No.”

“Of course not, since it was bought yesterday at the gift shop of the Beverly Hills Hotel. Does she own one like it?”

“No, she doesn’t.”

Stone went to the shopping bag and pulled out a bright yellow robe. “Is this the color of the guesthouse robes?”

“Yes.”

He handed her the robe. “Take a look at it. Is this one of the guesthouse robes?”

Isabel examined the robe and its label. “Yes, it is.”

He held up the two robes together. “These robes are very different colors, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are.”

“Could you mistake one of these robes for the other?”

“No, they’re different colors.”

Stone held up the white robe. “Does Mrs. Calder own a robe this color?”

“No, she does not. And Mrs. Calder never wears terrycloth, even around the pool.”

“Do you know why?”

“She doesn’t like it; she likes Sea Island cotton or silk. I’ve never once seen her wear a terrycloth robe.”

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Stone said. “And that concludes our presentation of witnesses.”

“Ms. Chu, closing?”

Chu stood, looking chastened. “We have nothing further, Judge.”

“Mr. Blumberg?”

“I believe the evidence speaks for itself, Your Honor. The District Attorney’s own witnesses have exonerated my client.”

“Mr. Blumberg, I believe you are correct. Your motion for dismissal of charges is granted, with prejudice.” He turned to the D.A.’s table. “Ms. Chu, I believe you and the police may wish to speak further with Mrs. Walters.” He rapped his gavel. “Mrs. Calder, you are free to go, with the court’s apologies. Court is adjourned.”

Arrington stood and turned to Marc and Stone. “What does ‘with prejudice’ mean?”

“It means the D.A. can’t bring these charges against you again. You’re a free woman.”

“If it’s all right,” she said, “I’d like to leave by the front door.”

“I’ll tell Manolo to bring the car around front,” Stone said.

She grabbed Stone’s hand, and they made their way through the crowd of press. He passed Dino. “Follow Manolo in your car,” he said. Dino nodded and, with Mary Ann, made his way from the courtroom.

“Mrs. Calder will have a statement on the front steps of the courthouse,” Marc shouted over the din, and the press dutifully followed them outside. Microphones were set up on the steps, and Marc shouted for silence.

He faced the reporters, apparently relishing the moment. “Justice has been done,” he said. “Arrington Calder is a free woman, and I only wish the police and the District Attorney’s office had done their work earlier, instead of waiting for us to do it for them. Now Mrs. Calder would like to say a few words.”

Arrington stepped up to the microphones. “I want to thank my attorneys, Marc Blumberg and Stone Barrington,” she said. “But I have no thanks whatsoever for the media, who have made my life a living hell these past weeks. These are the last words I will ever speak to a camera or a reporter.
Good-bye!
” She stepped back.

Suddenly, a reporter in the front of the group held up a tabloid newspaper. “Mr. Barrington!” he shouted.

Stone, who had been about to lead Arrington away, turned and looked at the paper. What he saw was himself and Betty Southard quite naked, covering half the page. Both were looking at the camera, and black bars covered strategic areas of their bodies.

“Oh, shit,” Stone said involuntarily.

Sixty-one

A
RRINGTON TOOK ONE LOOK AT THE PAPER AND stalked off. Stone followed her as quickly as he could, with reporters shouting questions at him from both sides. He got Arrington into the rear seat of the Bentley, but before he could climb in, she slammed the door and hammered down the lock button. Stone was left on the sidewalk, surrounded by cameras and screaming reporters.

Marc Blumberg grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the curb as Dino and Mary Ann drove up in the Mercedes station wagon, and they both got into the rear seat. Dino drove away, while reporters scattered from his path.

“You can drop me at the garage entrance around the corner,” Marc said.

Dino glanced back at him. “Congratulations; you sure nailed Beverly Walters. How did you know she and Vance had an argument?”

“I figured he dumped her.
Everybody
dumps Beverly, sooner or later, and I figured she didn’t like it. At least she admitted to an argument.” Marc turned to Stone. “By the way, I had a call early this morning from my attorney friend in Milan, about the possibility of divorce.”

“And?” Stone asked.

“The news isn’t good. In order to get a civil divorce in Italy, the two of you have to appear before a magistrate and mutually request the action.”

“Can’t I sue?”

“Yes, but in a contested divorce, you’d have to subpoena her, and you can’t do that in the United States. You’d have to serve her in Italy.”

Stone winced. “Good God.”

The car stopped at the entrance to the garage, and at that moment, there was a ringing noise.

Marc took a small cell phone from an inside pocket. “Yes?”

He smiled broadly. “Sure, I’ll see her. I’ll go right now.” He closed the phone and stuck it back into his pocket. “That was my office,” he said. “Beverly Walters has been arrested for Vance’s murder, and she wants me to represent her.”

“Are you going to?” Stone asked.

“Sure, why not? Since the charges against Arrington were dismissed with prejudice, there’s no conflict. Anyway, it’s an easy acquittal.”

Mary Ann turned around. “Acquittal? After what was said in court today?”

“Sure. My guess is that, since she wasn’t a suspect, she was never Mirandized, so everything she told the police and everything she said in court is inadmissible. The only testimony against her is Cordova’s, and he’s already admitted that he couldn’t distinguish between Beverly and Arrington in the robe.”

“What about Vanessa Pike’s murder?” Stone asked.

“There’s no evidence against her,” Marc replied, “or they would already have arrested her. Anyway, she may not have murdered Vanessa.”

That was true, Stone thought, and the other possible suspect was in a mental hospital.

Marc opened the car door and offered Stone his hand. “Thanks for the fun,” he said. “Now I’ve gotta go see my new client.”

“And thank you, Marc. I’ll get you a check tomorrow.”

Dino drove away and pointed the car toward Bel-Air. “Hey, what was all that crowd of reporters after you about?”

Stone sighed and told them what had happened.

“Did Arrington see the paper?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

They arrived back at the Calder house to find Manolo loading suitcases into the Bentley.

“Manolo,” Stone asked, “is Mrs. Calder going somewhere?”

“Yes, sir,” Manolo replied. “But you better ask her about that.”

“She certainly packed fast,” Stone said.

“Oh, she packed before we went to court,” Manolo said. “And on the way home, she called Mr. Regenstein from the car. The Centurion airplane is waiting for her at Santa Monica.”

Stone went into the house, followed by Dino and Mary Ann. Arrington was coming out of the bedroom. He stopped her. “Can we talk?” he asked.

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about,” she said. “I’m going to Virginia to be with Peter and my mother, and I don’t know when I’m coming back. Why don’t you join Betty Southard in Hawaii? The two of you were made for each other. Or, perhaps, you could move in with Charlene Joiner.”

He took her arm, but she snatched it away.

“Good-bye, Dino, Mary Ann,” she said, kissing them both. “I’m sorry your stay wasn’t as pleasant as it might have been.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dino replied.

“Something I want to know,” Stone said. “The amnesia: Was it real?”

“It was at first. After I came home from the clinic, everything gradually came back to me.”

“So what happened that evening?”

“I don’t think I’m going to tell you,” she said. “You still think I might have killed Vance, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Sure you do, Stone. Anyway, you’ll never know for sure, will you?” And with that she turned and walked out of the house. A moment later, the Bentley could be heard driving away.

Isabel came into the room. “Lunch is served out by the pool,” she said.

Dino took Stone’s arm. “Come on, pal. You could use some lunch, and probably a drink, too.”

Stone followed him outside, and the three of them sat down. Isabel brought a large Caesar salad with chunks of chicken and served them.

“You did very well this morning, Isabel,” Stone said. “Thank you very much.”

“All I did was tell the truth,” Isabel replied. She opened a bottle of chardonnay and left them to their lunch.

They chatted in a desultory way about the events of the past weeks, and Stone felt depressed. He finished his salad and tossed off the remainder of his wine. “Excuse me a minute,” he said, getting up. “I have to make a phone call.”