"Yes, I do," Arrington replied.
"So you admit having said that you would not divorce your hus-band on learning of his adultery, but shoot him, instead?"
"I spoke those words in jest, and Mrs. Walters took them as such. We both had a good laugh about it."
"But you don't deny having said that you would shoot your husband?"
"Mr. Reeves, how many times have you said, in jest, that you would kill somebody, maybe even your wife? This is common parlance, and we all do it. I had no evidence of adultery on my husband's part. I regarded him at that time, and still do, as a faithful husband."
"But Mrs. Walters had just told you that she, quote, 'had it on good authority' unquote, that your husband was actually committing adultery with his costar, Ms. Joiner."
"Mr. Reeves, I would never accept Beverly Walters' word about such a thing. She is an inveterate and vicious gossip, who enjoys stir-ring up trouble, and that is why she is an acquaintance, and not a friend of mine. If her husband were not an occasional business associate of my husband, I would not see her at all."
"But she said she had it on good authority."
"'Good authority,' to Beverly Walters, is something she heard at the hairdresser's or read in a scandal sheet. Did you ask her to substantiate this rumor she was spreading?"
Reeves didn't reply.
"I assure you that if I were a murderous person, I would have been much more likely to shoot Beverly Walters than my husband."
Stone had to suppress a smile.
"Mrs. Calder, did you and your husband ever fight?"
"Occasionally-perhaps rarely would be a better choice of words."
"Physically fight?"
"No, never."
"I will reserve the right to present evidence to the contrary at a later date," Reeves said. "That concludes the questioning," he said to the stenographer. "Thank you; you may leave us now."
The stenographer took her machine and left the room.
Stone was surprised that Arrington's questioning had been so brief, and that no further evidence against her had been offered.
"Mrs. Calder," the district attorney said, "you are under arrest on a charge of second-degree murder. Please stand up."
Arrington stood, and the two police detectives began to handcuff her.
Chapter 25
On Sunday morning, Stone got up and went out for the papers. He'd have to arrange daily delivery, he thought. The studio, ordinarily a hive of activity, was dead on a Sunday. He drove through the empty streets, inquired of the guard at the gate where to get a paper, and for his trouble was rewarded with a New York Times and a Los Angeles Times.
"We get a few delivered for folks who are working over the weekend," the guard said.
Stone returned to the bungalow, and as he entered, the phone was ringing. He picked it up.
"Stone Barrington?"
"Yes."
"This is Charlene Joiner."
"Good morning."
"As I mentioned at the funeral, I'd like to get together with you; I have some information you might find interesting."