I’m trying to confirm,” Stone said. “She told the police that Vance was sleeping with Charlene Joiner.”
“She doesn’t know anything; she’s just inventing gossip.”
Their dinner arrived.
“Betty, one more time: Was Vance sleeping with her?”
“All right, I’ll tell you about Vance. It was his practice to sleep with all his leading ladies, and a lot of those in supporting roles, too.”
“Even after he was married?”
“He never wavered. He’d either have them back to the bungalow for lunch or to his trailer. You haven’t seen the trailer, have you? It is very comfortable.”
“ All his leading ladies?”
“You go back and watch any film that Vance starred in, and you may wonder why the love scenes are so convincing. Well, they were convincing, because they had been very well rehearsed.”
“And how many pictures did Vance make after he was married?”
Betty counted on her fingers. “Four,” she said.
“You think Arrington knew about this?”
“I don’t think Vance was shortchanging her, if that’s what you mean.”
“This Walters woman told police that Arrington had complained to her that Vance had stopped sleeping with her, and that the reason was an affair with Charlene Joiner.”
Betty shook her head. “That just doesn’t ring true. Vance was a sexual athlete his whole life. He was in superb physical condition, and he loved sex. He could have made a very nice living doing porno movies, because he had both the equipment and the endurance for the work. It’s much more likely that Arrington would have complained of too much sex, rather than not enough.”
“How do you know about all this?”
“Because I know everything about Vance Calder. I worked for him for fifteen years, and I got the job while in bed with him. I was a script girl on one of his pictures, and we were fucking each other for most of the shoot. Toward the end of the picture, he offered me the job. He told me, quite frankly, that our little affair was going to end with the wrap, and I knew he was telling the truth. I took the job, because it was better than the one I had, and we didn’t make love again. But he never kept secrets from me. Maybe that’s why he left me the million dollars—because he knew I could make that much writing a tell-all book. I could, too.”
“I’ll bet you could.”
“So, now you know what you want to know?”
“I do.”
“Now you tell me something,” she said.
“Anything.”
“The last time you were in L.A., you and I had a rather delicious time together.”
“We certainly did.”
“Why do I get the feeling that isn’t going to happen this time?”
“Things have changed,” Stone said. He told her about Dolce and why he had been in Venice.
Betty nodded. “I understand,” she said. “I don’t like it much, but I understand.”
“Thank you for not liking it,” Stone replied.
Sixteen
S TONE SLIPPED INTO THE ESTATE THROUGH THE UTILITY entrance, parked his car in back and walked to the guesthouse. He got out of yesterday’s clothes, slipped into a robe, called Manolo, and ordered breakfast. As soon as he set down the phone, it rang.
“Hello?”
“Stone?” It was Arrington, and she sounded agitated. “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night—where have you been?”
“Right here,” he lied. “I was tired, so I unhooked the phone. I just plugged it in again so I could order breakfast. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling very well, thank you. The doctor says I can leave this morning. He wants to check me over once more, but I should be ready to go by ten. Will you come and get me, please?”
“Of course. I’ll be there at ten sharp.”
“Oh, good. Will you bring me some clothes? Ask Isabel, the maid, to put together an outfit—slacks and a blouse, shoes, stockings, and underwear. They brought me here practically naked, and I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Sure. I’ll call Isabel, and I’ll see you there at ten.” He
“She doesn’t know anything; she’s just inventing gossip.”
Their dinner arrived.
“Betty, one more time: Was Vance sleeping with her?”
“All right, I’ll tell you about Vance. It was his practice to sleep with all his leading ladies, and a lot of those in supporting roles, too.”
“Even after he was married?”
“He never wavered. He’d either have them back to the bungalow for lunch or to his trailer. You haven’t seen the trailer, have you? It is very comfortable.”
“ All his leading ladies?”
“You go back and watch any film that Vance starred in, and you may wonder why the love scenes are so convincing. Well, they were convincing, because they had been very well rehearsed.”
“And how many pictures did Vance make after he was married?”
Betty counted on her fingers. “Four,” she said.
“You think Arrington knew about this?”
“I don’t think Vance was shortchanging her, if that’s what you mean.”
“This Walters woman told police that Arrington had complained to her that Vance had stopped sleeping with her, and that the reason was an affair with Charlene Joiner.”
Betty shook her head. “That just doesn’t ring true. Vance was a sexual athlete his whole life. He was in superb physical condition, and he loved sex. He could have made a very nice living doing porno movies, because he had both the equipment and the endurance for the work. It’s much more likely that Arrington would have complained of too much sex, rather than not enough.”
“How do you know about all this?”
“Because I know everything about Vance Calder. I worked for him for fifteen years, and I got the job while in bed with him. I was a script girl on one of his pictures, and we were fucking each other for most of the shoot. Toward the end of the picture, he offered me the job. He told me, quite frankly, that our little affair was going to end with the wrap, and I knew he was telling the truth. I took the job, because it was better than the one I had, and we didn’t make love again. But he never kept secrets from me. Maybe that’s why he left me the million dollars—because he knew I could make that much writing a tell-all book. I could, too.”
“I’ll bet you could.”
“So, now you know what you want to know?”
“I do.”
“Now you tell me something,” she said.
“Anything.”
“The last time you were in L.A., you and I had a rather delicious time together.”
“We certainly did.”
“Why do I get the feeling that isn’t going to happen this time?”
“Things have changed,” Stone said. He told her about Dolce and why he had been in Venice.
Betty nodded. “I understand,” she said. “I don’t like it much, but I understand.”
“Thank you for not liking it,” Stone replied.
Sixteen
S TONE SLIPPED INTO THE ESTATE THROUGH THE UTILITY entrance, parked his car in back and walked to the guesthouse. He got out of yesterday’s clothes, slipped into a robe, called Manolo, and ordered breakfast. As soon as he set down the phone, it rang.
“Hello?”
“Stone?” It was Arrington, and she sounded agitated. “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night—where have you been?”
“Right here,” he lied. “I was tired, so I unhooked the phone. I just plugged it in again so I could order breakfast. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling very well, thank you. The doctor says I can leave this morning. He wants to check me over once more, but I should be ready to go by ten. Will you come and get me, please?”
“Of course. I’ll be there at ten sharp.”
“Oh, good. Will you bring me some clothes? Ask Isabel, the maid, to put together an outfit—slacks and a blouse, shoes, stockings, and underwear. They brought me here practically naked, and I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Sure. I’ll call Isabel, and I’ll see you there at ten.” He
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