L.A. Dead Part 32

"I'm happy to save you the trouble."

"Listen, Stone, this isn't all bad, you know?"

"It isn't? What's not all bad about it?"

"You've got the perfect means of staying single now. Every time some broad presses you to marry her, all you've got to say is, that you're already married, and your wife won't give you a divorce." Dino suppressed a laugh, but not well. "And you'll be telling the truth. Millions of guys would envy you!"

"You don't happen to know an Italian divorce lawyer, do you?"

"Nope, and can you imagine what will happen if you get one, and then he finds out who you're trying to divorce?"

"What?"

"Come on, Stone, Eduardo is probably better known to Italian lawyers than to American ones."

"You really know how to make a guy's day, Dino."

"Always happy to spread a little cheer."

"See you around."

"Bye."

Stone hung up, looked at his watch, then called Marc Blumberg's office.

"Yeah, Stone?"

"Marc, I'm glad you're back from Palm Springs. Can I come and see you? I need some legal advice, on a subject not connected to our present case."

"Sure, come on over; I'll make time."

Stone was surprised to find Vanessa Pike in Marc's office, and relieved to see her fully dressed. "Hi, Vanessa," he said.

"I was going to run Vanessa home, as soon as I made a couple of calls," Marc said. "What can I do for you?" He looked at Stone, then at Vanessa. "Honey, can you go powder your nose?"

Vanessa got up, opened a door in the corner of Blumberg's large office, and closed it behind her.

"What's up?" Marc asked.

"You do divorce work, don't you?"

"Who are we talking about getting divorced?"

"Me."

"Sure, I do divorce work, but first the client has to be married."

Stone placed the letter from Bellini and the marriage certificate on Marc's desk.

Marc read the letter. "Wow," he said. "You're pals with Cardinal Bellini?"

"He was supposed to officiate at my wedding, in Venice. We had a civil ceremony on a Sat.u.r.day, and it was my understanding that it wasn't valid until we had the religious ceremony. The call came about Vance's death before that could take place, and the next thing I knew, I was on a plane for L.A."

"This Bellini is a real heavyweight, you know," Marc said, and there was awe in his voice.

"Marc, focus, please! This is a marriage in name only; it wasn't even consummated-at least, after after the ceremony." the ceremony."

"And who is"-he looked at the marriage certificate-"Rosaria Bianchi?" His face fell. "She's not . . . She couldn't be . . ."

Stone nodded dumbly.

"Eduardo Bianchi's daughter?" His eyebrows went up. "Stone, I'm looking at you in a whole new light, here."

"I want out of this so-called marriage, Marc. How do I go about that?"

"Before we go into that, Stone, let me ask you something, something serious."

"What?"

"Are you looking to p.i.s.s off Eduardo Bianchi? I a.s.sume you know exactly who he is."

"I know who he is, and I like him. He likes me, I think, or he did when he thought I was going to be his son-in-law."

"Have you told him about this?"

"He was at the ceremony, Marc."

"I mean, have you told him you want a divorce from his daughter?"

"I don't think he even knows the marriage is valid, but he knows that Dolce and I are no longer together. He was pretty understanding about it."

"Well, for your sake, I hope to h.e.l.l he's going to be understanding about it. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, if he decides not not to be understanding." to be understanding."

"Marc, what am I going to do? How do I get out of this?"

"Well, a.s.suming that you can find a way to stay alive, the situation shouldn't be all that bad. I once worked with an attorney in Milan on a divorce case." He looked at his watch. "It's too late there to call him now, but I'll call him in the morning, and we can see where we stand. I'm a.s.suming Ms. Bianchi wants out, too."

"Don't a.s.sume that," Stone said.

"What should I a.s.sume?"

"a.s.sume the worst."

Vanessa came out of the powder room. "May I reappear now?"

"Sure, honey," Marc said, "we're done, for the moment."

Stone got up to leave.

"Oh, Stone," Marc said, "would you mind giving Vanessa a lift home? I've still got some work here."

"Sure."

"If it's not out of your way," Vanessa said.

Stone shrugged. "I don't know where I'm going, anyway."

Forty.

STONE FOLLOWED VANESSA'S INSTRUCTIONS TO A QUIET street up in the Hollywood Hills, above Sunset Boulevard, where they turned into the driveway of a pretty, New England-style, shingled cottage. They had been quiet all the way.

"You all right?" she asked, when they had stopped.

"Yes, sure," Stone said.

"Tell you what: Why don't you come in, and I'll fix you some dinner?"

"I don't want to put you to any trouble, Vanessa."

"I gotta eat, you gotta eat," she replied.

"Okay." He got out of the car, followed her to the front door and waited while she unlocked it and entered the security system code. The house was larger than it had seemed from the outside, and prettily decorated and furnished.

"There's a wet bar over there," she said, pointing to a cabinet. "Fix us a drink; I'll have a Johnny Walker Black on the rocks."

Stone opened the cabinet, found the scotch, and found a bottle of Wild Turkey, too. He poured the drinks and followed her into the kitchen. There was a counter separating the cooking area from a sitting room, and he took a stool there. He wondered if she would now strip to the waist and walk around as she had in Palm Springs.

Vanessa turned out to be something of a mind reader. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm not going to take any clothes off. That was Marc's idea, in Palm Springs."

"Marc's idea? Why would he ask you to do that?"

"Oh, I was already fairly naked; he just asked me not to get dressed. Marc is concerned about you."

"Concerned how?"

"He thinks you need . . . companionship." She began rummaging in the refrigerator.

"Oh."

"Marc is a very kind man; I owe him a lot."

"Why?"

"I was in the middle of an awful divorce, and my lawyer was intimidated by my ex's lawyer. I ran into Marc at a c.o.c.ktail party and complained about it, and he said he'd fix it. He did. He renegotiated my settlement, got me the Bel-Air house and a lot of money. I sold that house, bought this place, and invested the difference. If not for Marc, I'd probably be working as a secretary somewhere. As it is, I'm well fixed."

"Good for him," Stone said.

"He thinks that if you're f.u.c.king Arrington, it could hurt his case."

"He has made that point," Stone said.

"You two were an item before she married Vance, weren't you?"

"Yes, we were."

"Will you be again, a.s.suming she doesn't go to prison?"

"Hard to say," Stone replied.

"Is that what you want?"

"Sometimes I do; other times, I don't know," he admitted.

Vanessa smiled. "I think it's what you want." She switched on the gas grill of the restaurant-style stove and put the steaks on, then started to make a salad.

Stone watched her move expertly around the kitchen. She was beautiful, smart, and, he did not doubt, affectionate. But Arrington was on his mind, and he could not get that out of the way.

They had finished dinner and were sipping a brandy before the living room fireplace.

"I'm having a tough time making a decision," Vanessa said.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"I'm in something of an ethical quandary. I've promised a friend to keep something in confidence, but to do that might harm someone else."

"That's a tough one," Stone said.

"The person who might be harmed is not a particular friend, though I have nothing against this person."

"Then why are you having so much trouble keeping your promise to your friend?"

"Because it might help Marc-and you-if I told you about it."