“So how’s your friend going to take care of me?”
“You’ll be safe with him; he’s a cop.”
“A cop?” she said, as if she were being asked to move in with a criminal.
“A very important detective, high up in the LAPD. Nobody will touch you if you’re staying at his house.”
“Oh,” she said.
Stone rang the bell, and Rick appeared at the door.
“Come on in, both of you.”
“Barbara, this is Lieutenant Richard Grant.”
“Call me Rick,” he said, shaking her hand and lo
oking her up and down in a distinctly approving manner.
“Hi, Rick,” she said, smiling brilliantly. “I’m Barbara Tierney.”
“What a lovely name,” he said.
“Look, I’ve got to get moving, so I’ll leave you two alone,” Stone said.
Rick followed him out the door. “She’s amazing,” he said.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Where will you be?”
“I’m moving back to the Bel-Air. They’ve got a suite for me that’s at the top end of the hotel, so I can park outside and stay away from the bar and restaurant, where I might run into somebody I don’t want to see.”
“Mancuso’s lawyer called me, wondering about this murder charge I threatened his client with. I told him I intended to charge him, but in my own good time.”
“Good.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he ran.”
“Neither would I; Ippolito will want to get him out of town.”
“Sorry this hasn’t been more productive.”
“You get any more on Martin Barone?”
“Not yet.”
“Barbara knows him well,” Stone said. “You might want to question her closely.”
“My pleasure.” Rick grinned.
“I’ll talk to you later; you two have a good time.”
“We’ll try.”
Stone moved back into the Bel-Air Hotel, into a small suite at the north end of the property, with a car park nearby. He ordered some lunch from room service, then called his secretary in New York.
“Hi,” she said. “Vance Calder called.”