Swimming to Catalina (Stone Barrington 4)

“Well, Lou, if I decide to give up lawyering, you’ll be among the first to know.”

Regenstein stood up, took off his jacket, and kicked off his shoes. “If you’ll forgive me, I think I’ll get a little sleep,” he said. “You’d be well advised to do the same. It will be very early when we get into L.A.” He stretched out on the sofa and, without another word, closed his eyes and appeared to sleep. The flight attendant appeared and spread a light blanket over him.

Stone went back to his seat, took off his jacket and shoes, accepted a blanket, which turned out to be cashmere, and pushed his seat as far back as it would go. The cabin lights dimmed, and he looked out the window at the stars and tried not to think of Arrington. He had done too much of that already.

3

Stone was gently wakened by the flight attendant, and he brought his seatback forward. He looked at his watch, then out the window; dawn was on its way.

“Mr. Regenstein asked if you would join him for breakfast,” the young woman said.

“Of course.”

“If you’d like to freshen up first, you can go just there,” she said, pointing to a door.

Stone went into the washroom, which was bigger than any he had ever seen on an airplane. There was even a shower. He chose a toothbrush from a selection and scrubbed his teeth, then combed his hair, slipped on his jacket, and walked down the aisle to where Louis Regenstein was already consuming a large breakfast of scrambled eggs and lox.

“Good morning,” Regenstein said with some gusto. “Did you sleep well?”

“I got a few winks,” Stone replied.

The attendant appeared. “What would you like, Mr. Barrington?”

“Just orange juice and coffee,” he replied. “I had a late dinner.” Moments later, both beverages were on the table.

Regenstein glanced at his watch. “We should be on the ground in half an hour,” he said. “Where are you staying? May I offer you a lift?”

“At the Bel-Air, and thank you, but Vance said I would be met.”

“How long have you known Vance Calder?” Regenstein asked.

“A year or so, I guess; actually, I’ve met him only once, at a dinner party in New York.”

“So that would be when you met Arrington?”

Stone was surprised. “Yes.”

“You and Arrington were close for a time.”

More surprise. “Yes.”

Regenstein seemed to take a cue from Stone’s reticence. “Vance is a most remarkable man, for an actor,” he said. “I’ve never known a movie star so in control of his career. That would drive many studio executives crazy, but I prefer dealing with people who know what they want and insist on having it. Vance always has a keen perception of what is available in a deal and what isn’t—of what’s reasonable, you might say.”

“That’s a rare attribute in any field,” Stone said.

“I suppose it is.” Regenstein put down his fork and napkin. “Well, if you will excuse me, I want to get in a quick shower before we land; that way, I can go directly to the studio.” He left Stone to finish his coffee.

The big Gulfstream landed at Santa Monica Airport and taxied to a Fixed Base Operator called Supermarine. As the door opened, Stone saw two cars waiting on the ramp—a limousine-sized Mercedes and a little convertible, a Mercedes SL 600. He followed Regenstein from the airplane, and they shook hands.

“I expect I’ll see you at Vance’s tomorrow evening,” the studio head said.

“I hope so.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”

“Thank you, so will I”

Regenstein got into the limousine and was driven away, then a young man handed Stone a sealed envelope. He tore it open.