“New from where?”
“From New York.”
“And what brings you to L.A.?”
“I used to get out here on business occasionally, and I liked it, so I was thinking of getting a place here.”
“What kind of business?”
“I’m a lawyer—or rather, I used to be. Now I’m an investor.” He thought that should send the right message. “What about you?”
“I’m an actress; I came out here a few months ago from Chicago.”
“Storming Hollywood?”
“Sort of. What sort of place are you looking for, Jack?”
“Haven’t decided yet. I heard that Marina Del Rey was nice, and I like boats.”
“Then why don’t you buy a boat and live on that?”
“It’s a thought. Do you live on a boat?”
“For the moment. It belongs to a friend.”
“I’d love to see it.”
“My friend doesn’t like me to have guests aboard.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Maybe not; help me out.”
“You understand.”
“Well, yes.”
Their cheeseburgers arrived, and they were quiet for a while as they ate.
Stone wasn’t sure where to go with this. Was Barbara Tierney the girl who had been driving Arrington’s car? Or was she just a girl living on a friend’s boat?
Barbara finished her cheeseburger and drank the last of her beer. “My friend’s out of town,” she said.
26
Stone followed Barbara Tierney down the ramp and out the pontoons to Paloma. He found himself aboard a very handsomely furnished motor yacht, quite new, he thought, and judging from the instrument panel on the bridge, very well equipped. “Who owns her?” he asked.
“My friend.”
“And who is he?”
“He doesn’t like his name bandied about,” she replied coolly. “He’s married.”
“Oh. Then I feel even fewer scruples about him.”
“Look,” she said, “I’d offer you a drink, but I feel very uncomfortable having you on the boat. My friend comes and goes at odd hours, and you never can tell…”