26
K elli laughed in spite of herself.
“And not just once or twice,” Prunella Wheaton said, smiling a little. “Often, and with enthusiasm, for the better part of a year.”
Kelli started to ask a question but decided it was better to shut up and listen.
“Vance had won an Oscar for his first film outing, a western called Bitter Creek. During filming his girlfriend, whose name I’ve forgotten, was murdered by some maniac, and he was very depressed about it for a while. I was an aspiring actress then, and I went to Centurion for an audition, which he attended, and I guess I caught him on the upswing. Vance was about twenty-one but looked five or six years older. I was about your age, and I got the part, a good one. I had a couple of other decent film parts, then I made a stinker that marred my career. I cried on the shoulder of Louella Parsons, and she took pity on me and offered me a job as her assistant. I learned the trade from her, and when Louella kicked off, I got my own column.”
“Did you continue to see Vance after that?”
“Occasionally. We remained on good terms, and he would let me call him now and then for a confirmation on a story. He never leaked, though, and I respected him for that.” She smiled again. “In addition to being the handsomest man I ever met, Vance was also the best lay I ever had-really adventurous and a sweet lover. I never did as well again.”
“Did you know his wife? The one he married in his sixties?”
“No, by that time I was in New York and out of touch with Vance. The only time I heard anything about them was when a rumor circulated that she had been kidnapped-someone wanted something from Vance, I forget what. I called him, and he denied the whole thing, and so did the police, so that was the end of it.
“The last time I heard anything about her was a year or so ago when some L.A. developer took a run at Centurion. He wanted the back lot to build an office complex and hotel on, and Mrs. Calder opposed him and won. Vance had been buying stock in the studio since the early days and I hear owned at least a third of it.”
“So Mrs. Calder inherited that?”
“That and a great deal more. Vance was very smart and a very good businessman. He worked all the time, for big money, and he invested brilliantly, the way Bing Crosby and Bob Hope had done. I don’t think there was ever a richer actor in Hollywood. Some reports said he was worth more than a billion dollars.”
“Wow. And then he was murdered.”
“That’s right.”
“Who killed him?”
“Some woman he’d been having an affair with, I think. His wife was a suspect for a while, and she was dodging the police, but the thing was settled when the other woman committed suicide and left a note, as best I can recall.”
“Are you acquainted with someone called Stone Barrington?” Kelli asked.
“Lawyer, habitue of Elaine’s. I don’t go so much anymore.”
“He was apparently involved in the investigation into Calder’s death.”
“Oh? I don’t remember that.”
“Was Mrs. Calder’s name Christine?”
Wheaton shook her head. “No, not Christine. Funny, I can’t remember it now.”
“Thank you, Miss Wheaton,” Kelli said, rising.
“You’re a beautiful young thing,” Wheaton said. “Call me Prunie; everybody does.”
“Thank you, Prunie.”
“Come see me anytime.”
Kelli thanked her again and went back to her desk. She got on her computer and went into the paper’s archives, business section, and started a search beginning a year before. “Centurion, Calder” brought up the headlines about the stock battle at the studio and Mrs. Calder’s part in it. She read the accounts without ever seeing Mrs. Calder’s first name, but then, at the very end was a short piece saying that Michael Freeman, chairman and CEO of Strategic Services, who had voted his stock with Mrs. Calder, and Stone Barrington, of the law firm of Woodman amp; Weld, had joined the board of directors of Centurion Studios.
Kelli knew of Strategic Services as some giant security company that supplied bodyguards and armored cars to companies all over the world, and if the company was a major stockholder in Centurion, it made sense that Freeman might become a director. But Stone Barrington? He was a fixer for Woodman amp; Weld, who had been a partner for only a year. What was he doing on Centurion’s board?
27
S tone and Arrington were having breakfast in bed when Peter appeared, wearing a parka over a sweater and jeans, and carrying a leather tote bag. “Good morning,” he said, “I’m off to school.”