She dialed the number. "h.e.l.lo, Manolo, I'm . . ." She stopped and held her hand over the phone. "Something's wrong," she said. "Manolo just called me, 'sir.' "

Stone took the phone. "Manolo, it's Mr. Barrington; is there someone there?"

"Yes, sir," Manolo said smoothly. "I'm afraid she's resting at the moment. Can I have her call you back? There are some gentlemen waiting to see her now."

"Gentlemen? The police?"

"Yes, sir," Manolo said, sounding relieved that Stone had caught on.

"Just arrived?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do this: Go and knock on Mrs. Calder's bedroom door and pretend to speak to her, then put the policemen in Mr. Calder's study, and tell them she's getting dressed, and she'll be a few minutes. Give them some coffee to keep them occupied."

"Yes, Mr. Regenstein, I'll tell her you called," Manolo said, then hung up.

Stone put the phone back in its cradle.

"Trouble?" Lou asked.

Stone nodded. "Tell your driver to get moving; the cops are at the house."

Lou picked up the phone and pressed the intercom b.u.t.ton. "Get us to the Calder place p.r.o.nto," he said.

Stone took the phone and told the driver how to find the utility gate.

Arrington looked out the window. She seemed finally to have grasped what a difficult position she had put herself in.

Ten hair-raising minutes later, the limousine pulled into the rear drive and stopped at the gate.

"We'll walk from here, Lou," Stone said. "Please ask your driver to leave our bags at Vance's bungalow." He shook hands with Lou, grabbed Arrington's hand and practically dragged her from the car.

"I don't have the remote control for the gate with me," he said. "Is there some other way to open it?"

"Not that I know of," Arrington said, jogging to keep up with him.

"We'll have to go over the fence, then." He hustled her into the woods beside the gate and made a stirrup with his hands, then practically threw her over the fence. She landed in a pile of leaves, and a moment later, he joined her. She was laughing.

"I'm sorry, this is so ridiculous," she said.

"We'll laugh about it later," Stone said, taking her hand and starting to run. They made it to the rear of the house, and Stone looked into the living room. "All clear," he said. "Now here's what you do: Go into your room, brush your hair, then go into Vance's study, looking ill. You don't feel well at all. Let me do the talking."

She nodded, then ran into the house and through the living room, toward the master suite.

Stone took a couple of deep breaths, made sure there were no leaves stuck to his clothes, then went into the study. Durkee and Bryant were drinking coffee and looking at Vance's Oscars, while Manolo stood, watching them.

"Afternoon, gentlemen, what can I do for you?"

"We're here to see Mrs. Calder," Durkee said.

Manolo spoke up. "I let Mrs. Calder know the gentlemen are here, Mr. Barrington. She'll be out shortly."

"Thank you, Manolo. That's all." He took a chair. "So, to what do we owe the honor of your visit?"

"We just want to see Mrs. Calder," Durkee said.

"She won't be answering any questions," Stone replied. "Surely, you knew that."

"We had a tip that she was in New York," Durkee said. "Show her to me; I'm getting tired of waiting."

Arrington chose that moment to enter the room. "Stone," she said drowsily, "what's this about? I was asleep."

"Sorry to wake you, Mrs. Calder," Durkee said.

"Are you satisfied?" Stone asked.

"I guess so."

Stone turned Arrington around and led her to the bedroom door. "You can go back to bed," he said. "Are you going to want dinner later, or do you want to just sleep?"

"I want to sleep," she said.

"Do you want Dr. Drake?"

"No, I think I'll be all right in the morning." She left the room, and Stone closed the door behind her.

He turned back to the two cops. "A tip? What kind of tip?"

"An anonymous call," Durkee said. "A woman. Said the lady had jumped bail."

Stone shook his head. "As long as you're here, tell me something."

"What's that?"

"Why haven't you interviewed the gardener, Cordova?"

"We have no reason to," Durkee said. "He's not a suspect."

"Do you think he might be connected to the footprint you found outside the back door to the house?"

Durkee and Bryant exchanged a glance. "Nah," Durkee said. "Anybody could have made it."

"A size twelve Nike, and anybody anybody could have made it?" could have made it?"

"Our investigation has not found the footprint or the gardener to be relevant," Durkee said. "Anyway, Cordova's in Mexico, and we'd never find him there."

"Have you made any effort?" Stone demanded.

"I told you, he's not relevant to our investigation. The murderer is in that bedroom."

Bryant spoke up. "Let's get out of here."

"By the way, Mr. Barrington, what are you doing here?" Durkee asked, with a smirk.

"I was working in the guesthouse," Stone replied. "I'm one of her lawyers."

"Nice work, if you can get it," Bryant said.

Stone opened the door to the study. "Manolo," he called, "show these officers the door, please." He turned to the two detectives. "And don't come back here again, without a warrant. You won't be let in."

The detectives left, and when Stone was sure they were off the property, he went into the bedroom and found Arrington at her dressing table, applying makeup. "Why are you putting on makeup?" he asked. "I hope you don't think you're going anywhere."

"Why don't we go to Spago for dinner?" she asked archly.

"Do you have any idea how lucky you just were?"

"Don't, Stone; I'm converted. I'm sorry I gave you a bad time." She smiled. "Not very very sorry, though. I enjoyed my trip to New York." sorry, though. I enjoyed my trip to New York."

"Give me your car keys," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I've got to get it back from the airport. Manolo can drive me."

She dug into her purse. "I took Vance's car," she said. "It's in short-term parking; the ticket is over the sun visor."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Won't you come back for dinner?" she asked, disappointed.

"I'm beat; I hardly got any sleep last night, remember?"

She smiled. "I remember." She stood up and kissed him. "I don't think I'll ever forget."

"Neither will I," he said, kissing her. Then he went to find Manolo, and they headed for LAX.

It was getting dark by the time he got back to the bungalow at Centurion. He checked the answering machine on Betty's desk, saw the red light blinking, and pressed the b.u.t.ton.

"Mr. Barrington," Brandy Garcia's voice said, sounding exasperated. "I call here, and the lady says call New York; then I call New York, and the lady says to call here. I've got the item you want, and I'm going to call just one more time."

Then, as Stone stood there, the phone rang. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Mr. Barrington?"

"Yes. Brandy?"

"Hey, Stone; I found your man."

"Where is he?"

"In Tijuana, of course."

"All right, you found him; now how do I I find him?" find him?"

"You come to Tijuana."

"When?"

"Tomorrow afternoon; it's not a bad drive, three to four hours, depending on traffic. What kind of car will you be in?"

"A Mercedes convertible, black."

"No, no, you don't want to be driving around Tijuana in that. You park your car at the border, and walk across; I'll have somebody meet you."

"All right, what time?"

"Say three o'clock?"

"I'll be there."

"Wear a red baseball cap, so my man will know you."

"All right."

"Cordova wants a thousand dollars to meet with you."

"For as long as I want?"

"How long do you want?"

"Maybe an hour, maybe more."

"He'll do that, and Stone?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget the rest of my my money, too." money, too."

"See you at three o'clock."