“Ah, for personal reasons, I’d like to be known as Jack Smithwick while I’m here.”
“Of course, if you like.”
“Would you let the telephone operators know about that?”
“Surely.”
“And if anyone calls and asks for Barrington, deny all knowledge.”
“I understand,” she said. “Many of our guests travel incognito at one time or another.”
Stone followed the bellman to his suite and sent his clothes out to be pressed. He checked in with his secretary and gave her his new name and address.
“What if Vance Calder calls again?” she asked.
“Tell him I went out to the Hamptons for a few days, but you expect to hear from me. You just love talking to Vance Calder, don’t you?”
“Well…” She suppressed a giggle.
He hung up and reflected on why he was playing that game with Vance. If some goombah was searching his hotel suite, thensomebody knew he was still in L.A., and that somebody might tell Vance. The hotel change was probably a good idea, as long as he kept the suite at Le Parc. He was tired of people he didn’t know knowing where he was; it was becoming extremely irritating.
He was at the Marina Del Rey chandlery at seven sharp, and Barbara Tierney was only ten minutes late.
“I’m sorry you had to drive all the way down here to get me,” she said. “I’d have been glad to drive, if my friend’s car had been here.”
“What does your friend drive?”
“A Porsche.”
A Porsche? Shit. Was this the wrong girl? “Well, if your friend were here we wouldn’t be having dinner, would we?”
“Not necessarily,” she said. “I’m pretty much a free woman.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I try to avoid men who make demands; I get irritable when they do that.”
“I’ll do my best not to irritate you,” Stone said. He turned into Stone Canyon.
“Do you always stay at the Bel-Air?”
“Always; it’s my home away from home.”
They pulled into the hotel parking lot, gave the attendant the car, and walked over the bridge leading to the hotel. Below them swans dozed in a pretty stream.
“You certainly have good taste in hotels,” Barbara said.
Stone took her hand. “I have good taste in dinner companions, too.”
“Oooh, you should have been an actor,” she said.
“You’re not the first to tell me that,” Stone replied.
27
They were shown to a banquette in a corner of the large dining room, and their drink order was taken. Stone was hungry, and he began looking at the menu.
“May I take your order, Mr. Smithwick?” a waiter asked.
It took Stone a moment to react. “Give us a minute, will you? And may I have a wine list?”
“The smoked salmon sounds good,” Barbara said, then she made a little noise.
Stone turned toward her. “What?”
“My God,” she half-whispered, “look who just came in.”
Stone followed her gaze to the center of the dining room. Vance Calder and a party of six were being seated at a round table.
“I’ve never seen him in person, have you?”
Stone raised the wine list to cover his face. “Well, he doesn’t turn me on as much as he does you.” He lowered the list enough to allow him to see Vance’s party, and things got worse. Betty Southard was sitting next to him. “Oh, Jesus,” he murmured under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing; I was just trying to pronounce the name of this wine. I think I’ve read about it somewhere.” He was trapped, within plain view of both Vance and Betty. He did not need this.
“I think I’ll go and say hello to him,” Barbara said.
“What? Who?”
“Vance Calder.”
“I don’t think you should do that, Barbara.”
“Why not?”
“The hotel has a lot of celebrity customers, and they’re very protective of them.”
“Oh, it’ll be all right,” she said, pushing the table away. “We have a mutual friend.” She got up and started toward Vance’s table before Stone could stop her.
Stone watched as Barbara made her way between the tables and came to rest at Vance’s elbow. Vance looked up at her. The headwaiter began to move. Barbara spoke. Then, to Stone’s amazement, Vance stood up, shook her hand, and started to introduce her to the rest of his party. All eyes were riveted on the beautiful brunette. It was now or never, Stone thought. He pushed away the table, rose, and walked quickly through the dining room, staying as far away as possible from Vance’s table, hoping to God that no one there looked away from Barbara. Once in the entrance hall between the bar and the restaurant, he chanced a look back into the dining room. Barbara still held their attention.
Stone signaled to the headwaiter. “I’m not feeling very well,” he said. “Would you please ask my dinner companion, Miss Tierney, to phone me in my suite?”
“Of course, Mr. Smithwick,” the man said. “I hope you feel better.”
“Thank you,” Stone said and got out of the restaurant, taking care not to pass the window on the way to his suite. The phone was ringing as he walked in. “Hello?”
“Jack? Are you all right?”
“Oh, yes, Barbara; I’m so sorry I had to leave. It must have been something I ate at lunch.”
“We had the same thing for lunch, and I’m all right,” she said.
“I’ve been this way a couple of days. Look, would you mind if we had dinner in my suite? If you’re uncomfortable with that I’d be glad to order a car to take you back to the marina, but I do think I should stick close to home this evening.”
“All right,” she said. “How do I find it?”
Stone gave her directions, then hung up, took off his jacket, left the door ajar, and went into the bathroom.
“Jack?” she called from the door.
“Come on in; I won’t be a minute.” He threw some water on his face, then grabbed a towel and walked out, mopping his face dry. “I’m so sorry; I’m all right now, I think.” He motioned to the sofa. “Have a seat.” He handed her a menu. “Would you like a drink?”
“Scotch on the rocks, please,” she replied, and started to look at the menu.
Stone poured her a drink and fixed himself a bourbon.
“Maybe you shouldn’t drink,” she said.
“It’ll be all right.” he replied.
“I’ll have the smoked salmon and the chicken breast,” she said.
Stone phoned in their order and sat down beside her. “So, did Vance Calder remember you?”
“He remembered my friend,” she said. “They do some business together.”
“What business is he in?”
“Finance.”
“What sort of finance?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but he deals in large sums of money. He’s in Mexico right now.”
“Ah.”
“Have you ever been to Mexico?”
“No, and with the state of my innards, I’m not sure I should.”
She laughed and gave him a little kiss. “You know, I think I prefer having dinner here instead of in the restaurant.”
Stone kissed her back. “So do I.”
Sometime after midnight, Stone crept from the bed and tiptoed into the sitting room, leaving Barbara sound asleep. He found her handbag, opened it, and extracted her wallet. Standing next to the window, he used an outside light to illuminate the contents. Her name was really Barbara Tierney, an Illinois driver’s license testified to that, and she really was an actress, according to her Screen Actors Guild card. He replaced the wallet and rummaged around in the bag for a moment longer, but found nothing else of interest, just the usual female detritus. He put the bag back where he’d found it and crept back into bed. Barbara rolled over and reached for him.
“More,” she said.
“Absolutely,” he replied.
Stone was awakened by the doorbell, and Barbara called out that she’d get it. He fell back into bed. A moment later, she pushed a rolling table into the room.