“What did he have to say?”
“Just wanted you to call him back, said he’d be at home all day. Say, I never got that cashier’s check you said you were mailing.”
“I’ve still got it, but it’s a little worse for the wear. I’d better hang onto it; I’m getting low on money.”
“Whatever. I’ve paid all the bills, and everything seems to be in pretty good shape here.”
“Glad to hear it; I’m not ready to leave L.A. yet. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He hung up and dialed Vance’s home number.
“Hello?”
“Vance, it’s Stone Barrington.”
“Oh, Stone, thank you for calling.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I hardly know how to answer that, Stone; I wish I could talk to you face to face and try and explain what’s been going on.”
“We can arrange that, if you like.”
“You mean you’ll come back out here?”
“I never left.”
“What? You’re still in L.A.?”
“Yes, but you can’t tell anyone that—not a soul, do you understand?”
“Of course, whatever you say.”
“I mean it, Vance; if you tell anyone I’m in L.A., it could be very dangerous for me.”
“I promise, I’ll say nothing to anyone.”
“Not even Betty.”
“If you say so.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes, it’s the servants’ day off; I’m at home, reading scripts.”
“All right, I’ll be there in ten minutes; open the front gate.”
“Thank you, Stone; I appreciate this.”
“Don’t appreciate it until we’ve talked. You have a lot to tell me, and this time I’m going to have to have the truth.”
“I understand.”
“See you in an hour.”
Stone had lunch on his tiny garden terrace, changed clothes, and started out for Vance’s house.
40