“Whatever you say,” Stone said, picking up his script. He thought he knew the speech, but he hadn’t expected to give it today; by the time he was dressed and on the set, though, he felt ready. Vance was nowhere to be seen, but since the scene was Stone’s alone he was not surprised. He rehearsed the scene once, then did a take.
“Cut, print,” the director said. “That was great, Stone, now let’s get your reaction to the verdict.”
Surprised, Stone sat down at the prosecution table and tried to look pissed off when the bailiff read the verdict.
“That’s a wrap for Stone,” the director said. He came over, shook Stone’s hand, and thanked him for his work. “I’ll send you a videotape when we’re done. Take care.”
Stone stood up; it was not yet ten o’clock. Vance came onto the set and strode toward him, smiling, his hand out. “I hear you were great,” he said, then, still holding Stone’s hand, he pulled him to a corner of the court set. “Great news,” he said. “Arrington called last night.”
“What did she have to say?” Stone asked.
“Everything is all right. She had been worried about my reaction to having a child, and she just needed a few days alone.”
“Where has she been?”
“Staying with a friend out in the Valley.”
“So she’s home?”
“She will be in a day or two. She’s helping her friend with some personal problem.”
“Well, I’m relieved to hear that, Vance. She apparently tried to call me last night, but I wasn’t in at the time.”
“Yes, she mentioned that; she was embarrassed that you’d made a trip out here for nothing, and she wanted to apologize. She sends her love.” He clapped Stone on the shoulder. “Well, old man, thanks for everything; we’ll call you when we’re in New York. Oh, Betty will take you to the airport.” He clapped Stone on the shoulder again and went to take his place on the set.
Stone stood there, puzzled. Betty walked up.
“Your plane leaves in an hour and a half,” she said, handing him a ticket. “I’m afraid the Centurion jet wasn’t available; you’ll have to make do with first class.”
“I guess I can stand that,” Stone replied.
“And here,” she said, handing him an envelope, “is your paycheck; don’t spend it all in one place. Oh, and Mr. Regenstein said to keep the clothes-a personal gift from him.”
“That’s very kind of him.”
“Come on, let’s get to your dressing room and get that makeup off.”
As they left the set he saw a man standing at the rear wearing a suit identical to his own. He hadn’t been aware that he’d had a stand-in. He followed Betty to his RV, where he found the wardrobe lady packing the suits and shirts he had worn in the film into a handsome, old-fashioned leather suitcase. He gave her the suit he was wearing and started rubbing on cold cream. Ten minutes later, they were on the way to the airport, with Betty at the wheel of Stone’s temporary car, Vance’s Mercedes SL600. Stone turned in his studio pass at the front gate, and soon they were on the freeway.
“I have to pick up my clothes at the Bel-Air,” he said.
“They’re in the trunk; the hotel packed for you,” she said. “You know, I think the very least you could do would be to return the favor of last night. Loving and leaving a girl, as you are.”
Stone laughed. “I’d be delighted, but not on the freeway. You have no idea how close we came to death last night. You’ll have to come and see me in New York.”
“Maybe,” she said.
They were quiet for a while as they zipped along in moderate traffic. “Betty,” he said as they neared the airport, “what’s going on?”
“Going on?” she asked innocently. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
“I mean why am I being rushed out of L.A.?”
“Rushed?”
“Rushed. And after the big push to get me to act in Vance’s movie, why was there an actor on the set wearing the same suit as mine?”
She glanced at him. “You’re very observant.”
He thought he noticed a hint of a blush. “So?”
She pulled up at the airport setdown. “So, I don’t knowwhat’s going on. I honestly don’t.”
“Vance said Arrington called him last night, and that she’s fine.”
“I have no reason not to believe that,” she said.
“Let’s rewind for a moment. What time did you leave me this morning? I was dead asleep.”
“Around five.”
“And what time did you speak to Vance?”
“Not until I got to the office.”
“Did you speak to anybody else?”
“Is this a cross-examination?”
“Yes. Did you speak to anyone else?”
She looked at her lap. “I got a call,” she said.
“From whom?”
“All right, it was Vance.”
“What was the substance of your conversation?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Did he ask you why we were at Grimaldi’s last night?”
“Yes,” she said with reluctance.
“Did you tell him?”
“Yes.” She looked at him. “Stone, I’ve told you that my loyalty to Vance is complete.”
“I believe that. Do you really believe you’re acting in his best interests?”
“Do you think I’m not?”
“I think that something is terribly wrong here, and that I might be able to help, if I’m allowed to.”
“Vance doesn’t seem to want any help.”
“Don’t you think he needs it?”
She shrugged. “Maybe, but…”
“I know you’re in a tough spot, but you’ve got a decision to make. I wouldn’t want either Arrington or Vance to get hurt because you make a mistake.”
She reached over, took hold of his necktie, and pulled him toward her. “I wouldkill to help that man.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Stone said, disentangling his tie from her grip, “but could you act against his wishes if you thought it would help him?”
She thought about that. “Probably,” she said.
“Then let’s get out of here.”
“I’m supposed to call after I’ve seen you get on the airplane.”
“So, call.”
She reached into her purse and produced a card and a key. “Here’s my home address and the key; the alarm code is four-one-one-four. Repeat that.”
“Four-one-one-four,” he said.
“Go into the terminal, rent a car, and go to my house. I’ll be home around seven, and we can talk.”
Stone smiled and kissed her. “You’re doing the right thing,” he said.
“I hope to God I am,” she replied, “or I’m going to be in a lot of trouble.”
14
Stone was feeling flush, what with a check for twenty-five thousand dollars in his pocket, so he asked the rental car agent for a Mercedes. After half an hour’s wait, he was picked up and driven to the agency’s Beverly Hills location, where he was given a choice of a dozen luxury cars, including a Rolls-Royce. He chose a Mercedes SL500, which had a smaller engine than he had grown accustomed to but would do in a pinch.
Using the supplied map, he found his way to Betty’s house, which was on a quiet street south of Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills, near Neiman-Marcus. He let himself into the house, tapped in the alarm code, and left his luggage, including his elegant new suitcase, by the stairs. He thought the house probably dated from the thirties, but it had been renovated in striking fashion and was handsomely furnished. Apparently there was good money in working for movie stars.
He checked the refrigerator and found the makings of a sandwich, along with a lot more food, and had some lunch, then he found his way upstairs, hung up his clothes, and collapsed on Betty’s king-sized bed. It was after six when he awoke.
He went back downstairs, checked the fridge again, and looked through the cabinets, then started making dinner. At a quarter past seven he heard the front door open, and Betty walked into the kitchen.