Stone was struck heavily by the fact that his reaction to seeing her was not appropriate for a man who would be married on the morrow, and he was suddenly flooded with what had been pent-up doubts about marrying Dolce. In a second, every reservation he had ever had about marriage, in general, and Dolce, in particular, swept over him, filling him with a sickening panic.
On Arrington came, still walking backward, talking and laughing with someone who was still climbing the other side of the bridge, probably Vance Calder. Stone recovered quickly enough to place himself in her path, so that she would bump into him. She would be surprised, they would laugh, Vance would greet him warmly, and they would congratulate him, on hearing of his plans.
She ran into him harder than he had anticipated, jarring them both. Then she turned, and she wasn't Arrington. She was American, younger, not as beautiful; the man following her up the bridge was young, too, and beefy.
"I'm awfully sorry," Stone said to her.
Her young man arrived. "You did that on purpose."
"I apologize," Stone said. "I thought the lady was someone I knew."
"Yeah, sure," the young man said, advancing toward Stone.
"Don't," the girl said, grabbing at his arm. "He apologized; let it go."
The man hesitated, then turned and followed the woman down the bridge.
Stone was embarrassed, but more important, he found himself depressed that the woman had not been Arrington. He stood at the top of the bridge, leaning against the stone railing, looking down the canal, wondering if the universe had just sent him a message.
Chapter 5
Stone was having the unpleasant dream again, and in it, someone was knocking loudly on a door. Then someone was shaking him, and he woke up this time, remembering that Arrington had been in the dream.
A servant was bending over him. "Signore Bianchi asks that you come to the library at once," the man said. "Is not nessary to dress."
"All right," Stone replied sleepily. He looked at his bedside
clock and saw that it was shortly before eight a.m. He found a large, terry robe in the wardrobe, put it on over his bedclothes, found his slippers, and, smoothing down his hair, hurried to the central hall, where the servant directed him to the library, a room he had not yet seen.
It was a large room, the walls of which were lined from top to bottom with leather-bound volumes, leaving room for only a few pictures. Stone thought he recognized a Turner oil of the Grand Canal. Eduardo, the cardinal, and Dino, all in dressing gowns or robes, stood before the fireplace.
"Good morning," Stone said. "Is something wrong?"
None of the men seemed to want to speak first. Finally, Eduardo spoke. "We have had some bad news from the States." He turned to his son-in-law. "Dino?"
Dino flinched as if he had been struck, then he began. "My office called a few minutes ago: Rick Grant from the LAPD called and left a message."
Stone knew Rick Grant; he was a detective assigned to the office of the chief of police of Los Angeles, who had been helpful to him on an earlier visit to California. "What is it?"
Dino took a deep breath. "Vance Calder is dead."
"I am very upset about this," Eduardo said. "Vance was my friend, too."
Stone knew that Eduardo was a stockholder, with Vance, in Centurion Studios and had been an investor in some of Vance's films. "How?" he asked Dino.
"He was shot. Last night, in his home."
"Murdered?"
"Yes; shot once in the head."
"Is Arrington all right?" He steeled himself for the answer.
"Yes; she's in a local hospital."
"Was she hurt?"
"No."