"You don't seem to mind giving me one," Stone said, walking to the door. He heard a giggle from the bathroom.
Two waiters came in and, in a flash, had arranged two lobster salads and a bottle of chardonnay on the coffee table. They were gone just as quickly, and Charlene returned, just as naked.
"I'm starved!" she said, sitting down and attacking the lobster.
Stone poured them both a glass of wine. "Charlene, who were Vanessa's best friends?"
"You met most of them at my house," Charlene replied. "The ladies who lunch? The whole group was there, except for Vanessa and Beverly."
"Beverly Walters?"
"Yep. You know her?"
"I met her briefly in a restaurant once."
"Beverly's all right, I guess, but she wouldn't be in the group, if it hadn't been for Vanessa."
"What's Beverly's story?"
Charlene shrugged. "She's a Beverly Hills housewife, I guess. She came out here to be an actress and ended up giving blow jobs for walk-ons. Her husband saved her from that; now all she does is have lunch and shop."
Stone tried the lobster; it was perfect, tender, and sweet. "Where'd the food come from?" he asked.
"From the studio commissary; have you been there, yet?"
"No."
"You'll have to come with me, sometime, Sugar; that would do wonders for your reputation around here."
"You're not exactly shy, are you, Charlene?"
"You ever noticed anything shy about me, Sugar?"
"No, I haven't. Tell me, was this group of ladies with you on the day Vance was shot?"
"Was it a Saturday? Yes, it was, I remember, now. Sure, they were all there that day; we have a regular Saturday thing at my house."
"How late?"
"Later than usual, as I recall. Everybody's mostly gone by five or six, but a couple of people stayed right through dinner. I think it's cleansing to have dinner without a man occasionally."
"What time did Vanessa leave?"
"She didn't stay for dinner. I remember, they left, because Beverly had a dinner party to go to that night, and she had to get home and change. I don't know what Vanessa was doing."
"They left together?"
"Yes, they came and left in Vanessa's car."
"That's promising," Stone said, half to himself.
"Promising? How do you mean?"
"Sorry, I was thinking aloud."
Charlene, having eaten a third of her lunch, grabbed her wine glass and half reclined on the sofa, resting her feet in Stone's lap.
The view was transfixing, Stone thought, trying to concentrate on his lobster instead. "Are you and Beverly close at all?" he asked.
"Not very. Like I said, she's not my favorite person."
"I understand that Beverly is… talkative."
"Well, that's an understatement! We had to listen to every detail of every affair she had."
"Did she ever sleep with Vance?"
"Sugar, if Vance had ever had a social disease, half of Beverly Hills would have come down with it."
"I mean, did she ever talk about having an affair with him?"
"She tried, but she was late to the party; the rest of us had already had Vance."
"Vanessa, too?"
"Sure, and before she was divorced. Vance didn't discriminate against married women."
"Who is Beverly married to?"
"A producer on the lot, here: Gordon Walters. That's her entree around town; if she were ever divorced, she'd never get asked to dinner. Gordy's a sweetheart, but Beverly isn't all that popular. Everybody knows you can't tell her anything. It would be like putting it on a loudspeaker at Spago."
"Charlene, I wonder if you'd do a favor for me."
"Sugar," she said, poking him in the crotch with a toe. "I've been trying."
"Another kind of favor."
"Sure, if I can."
"Have lunch with Beverly Walters; see if you can find out what happened after she and Vanessa left your house that Saturday."
"Why do you want to know?"
"You can't share this with the ladies," Stone said.
She made a little cross with a long fingernail on her left breast.
"Beverly is a witness against Arrington, in this shooting thing. She's testified that Arrington told her she wanted to kill Vance. Arrington was joking, of course."
"Of course," Charlene said dryly.
"It's possible that Beverly might have been at Vance's house that evening, and that she might have seen something. I can't let Arrington go into court without knowing what Beverly saw. Do you think you could worm that out of her?"
"Shoot, Stone, I could worm Beverly's genetic code out of her, if she knew it."
"Vanessa said something about this to me, and I wouldn't like for Beverly to know that. Vanessa felt she was breaking a confidence, just by mentioning the possibility."
"That sounds like Vanessa," Charlene said, looking misty for a moment. "Shed be true blue, even to Beverly."
"When do you think you could see her?"
"She'll be over at the house on Saturday, with the others, I'm sure; we'll have some commiserating to do over Vanessa."
"I'd appreciate any help you could give me."
Charlene smiled a small smile. "How much would you appreciate it?"
"A lot," Stone said.
"I don't believe you," Charlene replied. "It's Arrington, isn't it? She's why I can't get you in the sack."
"We're old and good friends," Stone said.
Charlene laughed. "Well, at least you didn't say you were just good friends. I don't blame you, Stone; she's perfectly gorgeous. I'd hop into bed with her in a minute."
Stone laughed, put down his fork, and stood up. "I'll tell her you said so, if the occasion should ever arise. I've got to get going. Thanks for the lunch, and, especially, for your help."
Charlene put down her wine glass, arose, and came toward Stone. She snaked one arm around his neck, hooked one leg around his and kissed him, long and deep.
Stone enjoyed the moment.
"Just you remember," she said, "you owe me one."
Stone released himself and made his way out of the RV On the short drive back to the bungalow, Stone made a concerted effort to forget how Charlene Joiner had looked naked and failed.
Chapter 44
Stone spent the evening alone in Vance's bungalow, heating a frozen dinner and watching one of Vance's movies from a selection of videotapes in the study. It turned out to be one in which Charlene Joiner had costarred, and that didn't help him think pure thoughts. Her ability as an actress actually lived up to her beauty, which surprised him, though it was not the first of her movies he had seen.
He slept fitfully, then devoted the following day to a combination of Calder Estate business and correspondence FedEx'ed by Joan from New York, which kept his mind off naked women, living and dead. The noon news said that Daniel Pike was not a suspect in his ex-wife's death, but he didn't believe it. The police had probably leaked that information to make Pike think he was safe. He'd done the same thing, himself, in his time.
Arrington called early in the afternoon. "Dino and Mary Ann are arriving at three," she said, "and Manolo is meeting them. I can't wait to see them!"
"Same here," Stone said, and he meant it. Cut off from Arrington most of the time, he craved affectionate company.
"You be here at seven," she said.
"Can I bring anything?"
"Yes, but I don't think you'll share, in your present mood."
"When this is over, I'll share until you cry for mercy."
"Promises, promises! Bye." She hung up.
Stone left the studio at six-thirty, which would make him fashionably late to Arrington's. Then, after no more than a mile, the car's steering felt funny, and he pulled over. The front rear tire was flat. He thought of changing it himself, but there was a gas station a block away, and he didn't want to get his fresh clothes dirty, so he hiked down there and brought back a mechanic to do the work. As a result, he was half an hour late to dinner.
He entered through the front gate, for a change, and noted that there were no TV vans or reporters about. Manolo let him in and escorted him into the living room where Arrington, Dino, and Mary Ann sat on sofas before the fireplace. Another woman was there, too, but her back was to him.