“Nothing else to do. Vance hasn’t been in for days; I’m underworked.”
“A friend of mine is going to drop by with a present for you.”
“Who’s the friend?”
“An ex-cop.”
“What’s the present?”
“Wait and see.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“Talk to you soon.” Stone broke the connection, got out of the car, walked to the front door, and rang the bell.
“Coming!” she called, her voice muffled. There were footsteps, and she opened the door.
“Good evening, Ms. Southard,” Stone said.
Her mouth dropped open, and just for a moment he knew she wasn’t glad to see him.
“May I come in?”
“Of course.” She stood back and let him in. “What are you doing back in L.A. so soon?”
“Fix me a gin and tonic, and I’ll tell you anything.”
She waved at the living room sofa. “Sit.” Then she went into the
kitchen, came back with two drinks, and sat down beside him.
“I don’t think you’re really glad to see me,” he said.
She didn’t deny it. “You surprised me.”
“Not entirely a pleasant surprise, I take it.”
“I wish I could say it was. You’re back here to make trouble for Vance, aren’t you?”
“I never left town,” he said.
She looked at him, astonished. “You don’t know how dangerous that was.”
“And I couldn’t possibly make more trouble for Vance than he already has on his hands.”
“It was very dangerous, Stone.”
“More dangerous than you know Ippolito had two of his goons drop me in the Pacific with an anchor attached.”
Her eyes grew wide.
He held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I survived.”
She sank half her drink and set it down. “Oh, God,” she said. “It was my fault.”
“How so?”
“I told Vance you were still here, and he must have told Ippolito.”