"A friend brought it out from New York for me. No offense."
"None taken."
Stone finished his eggs and poured them some coffee. "When are you going to see Beverly Walters?"
"Yesterday."
"You've already talked to her?"
"Well, you didn't give me a chance to tell you last night."
"What did she say?"
"She was coy, which is unlike Beverly. Normally, she spills everything, usually without being asked."
"But not yesterday?"
Charlene shook her head. "She had a secret, and she wasn't going to tell me. I couldn't worm it out of her."
"She was there, I think. She must have seen what happened."
"If I were you, I'd be worried."
"I am.
"What's your next move?"
"I don't know. We could depose her, get her under oath."
"Why?"
"The idea is to find out what the prosecution witness knows."
Charlene sighed. "The problem with that, Stone, is you don't want to know."
She had a point, he thought.
Stone got back to the studio bungalow a little before eleven. Louise Bremen, from the studio secretarial pool, was at Betty's desk. "Good morning," she said, handing him a phone message. It was from Dino, and the return number was at the Calder guest house.
"Good morning," he replied, pocketing the message.
"Oh, you've spilled something on your jacket," Louise said.
Stone had forgotten about the gazpacho from the night before.
"Take it off, and I'll send it over to wardrobe for you; they'll get the stain out."
"Thanks," Stone said. He went into the bedroom, took off the jacket, and put the Walther and its holster into a drawer, then he took the jacket back to Louise. "Have we heard anything from Dolce Bianchi?"
"Not a peep," she replied.
"Good." He went into the study and called Dino.
"Hello."
"Hi."
Dino spoke softly, as if he didn't want to be overheard. "Let's meet for lunch," he whispered.