"Vance and I use the same gardening service, which takes care of the grounds of both his Malibu and Bel-Air houses. The man, whose name is Felipe, was due here on Monday morning to cut the grass and do some gardening work, and he didn't show up. I called the service, and they sent somebody else that afternoon."
Stone waited for this to become relevant. "Go on."
"The man who came in the afternoon didn't do a very good job, so I called his boss and asked when Felipe would be back He said he had called Felipe's house-he apparently lived with a sister-and was told that he had returned to Mexico over the weekend, and he didn't know when he'd be back."
"Did Felipe also work at the Calders' house?"
"Yes; he worked there last Friday and on Saturday, the day Vance was killed."
"And he suddenly went back to Mexico on the Sunday?"
"On the Saturday night, according to his boss."
"So he couldn't have been questioned by the police," Stone said. "That is interesting"
"I thought you might think so. The man did good work, but once I caught him in my house. He said he was looking for a drink of water, but he wasn't in the kitchen; he was in the living room."
"Did he know where the kitchen was?"
"Yes, he had been in there before. I think he fancied Reba, my maid."
"You think he might have stolen something?"
"I think he would have, left to his own devices. I told him not to come into the house again. If he wanted water, he was to ask Reba to bring it to him. There's a staff toilet off the kitchen he could use. His full name is Felipe Cordova; his boss says he's from Tijuana."
"Thank you for telling me this," Stone said. "There's something I'd like to ask you; it's a rude question, but I'd appreciate a straight answer.
"Was I fucking Vance Calder?" she asked.
"That's the question."
She laughed. "Sweetie, all of the women here today have fucked Vance, at one time or another."
"All of them?"
"Every one of them is a member of the I Fucked Vance Calder Club. The club is bigger than that, of course; we're only the tip of the nipple."
"Let's get back to my original question."
"You bet I was fucking him, and loving it." She smiled. "So was he."
"Where did these meetings take place?"
"You mean where did we fuck? I hate euphemisms. In his bungalow at the studio; in his trailer, when we were on location; in his Colony house just down the street; and here. Right up until the day before his death."
"How often did this happen?"
"Every day we could manage it; sometimes twice a day. Vance was always ready," she said, "and so was I." She turned toward him and placed a hand on his arm. "In fact," she said, "I'm ready, right now."
Stone patted her hand. "That's a kind thought," he said, "but it's very likely that you're going to be called as a witness for the prosecution at Arrington's trial, and…"
"I'll bet you could get me to say whatever you wanted me to," Charlene said, getting up and sitting on the edge of his chaise.
"That would be suborning perjury," Stone said, trying to keep his voice calm. "My advice to you is to tell the truth."
"I'll tell you the truth," she said, and her hand went smoothly to his crotch. "I want you right now, and," she squeezed gently, "I can tell you want me."
"I'm afraid…"