Bel-Air Dead Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  BOOKS BY STUART WOODS

  FICTION

  Strategic Moves2

  Santa Fe Edge4

  Lucid Intervals2

  Kisser2

  Hothouse Orchid1

  Loitering with Intent2

  Mounting Fears3

  Hot Mahogany2

  Santa Fe Dead4

  Beverly Hills Dead

  Shoot Him If He Runs2

  Fresh Disasters2

  Short Straw4

  Dark Harbor2

  Iron Orchid1

  Two Dollar Bill2

  The Prince of Beverly Hills

  Reckless Abandon2

  Capital Crimes3

  Dirty Work2

  Blood Orchid1

  The Short Forever2

  Orchid Blues1

  Cold Paradise2

  L.A. Dead2

  The Run3

  Worst Fears Realized2

  Orchid Beach1

  Swimming to Catalina2

  Dead in the Water2

  Dirt2

  Choke

  Imperfect Strangers

  Heat

  Dead Eyes

  L.A. Times

  Santa Fe Rules4

  New York Dead2

  Palindrome

  Grass Roots3

  White Cargo

  Deep Lie3

  Under the Lake

  Run Before the Wind3

  Chiefs3

  TRAVEL

  A Romantic’s Guide to the Country

  Inns of Britain and Ireland (1979)

  MEMOIR

  Blue Water, Green Skipper (1977)

  G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS

  Publishers Since 1838

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA •

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario

  M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd,

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green,

  Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) • Penguin Group (Australia),

  250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of

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  Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi–110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ),

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  24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Copyright © 2011 by Stuart Woods

  Photograph of Stuart Woods and Elaine Kaufman © Harry Benson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned,

  or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do

  not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation

  of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Published simultaneously in Canada

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Woods, Stuart.

  Bel-Air dead : a Stone Barrington novel / Stuart Woods.

  p. cm.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-51391-0

  1. Barrington, Stone (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Private investigators—

  Fiction. 3. Bel Air (Los Angeles, Calif.)—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3573.O642B

  813’.54—dc22

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either

  are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and

  any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses,

  companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and

  Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author

  assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication.

  Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any

  responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  In memory of Elaine Kaufman (1929–2010), who loved writers

  1

  Elaine’s, late.

  Stone Barrington sat with his client, Mike Freeman, of Strategic Services, and his former partner from his NYPD days, Dino Bacchetti, over the ruins of dinner and a bottle of excellent Cabernet.

  “That was good,” Mike said. “I never knew how good the food was here, until you started bringing me.”

  “Comfort food,” Dino said.

  Elaine sat herself down in the spare chair. “Comfort food?” she asked. “Is that some kind of crack?”

  “It’s high praise,” Stone said quickly, not wanting to get her started. Elaine’s did not enjoy a high reputation with the food critics of the local media, because they didn’t come often enough to get the good tables, but the regulars knew how good the food was, and that was all she really cared about.

  “I’ll take high praise,” Elaine said.

  Stone’s cell phone hummed on his belt, and he dug it out of its holster. “Stone Barrington.”

  “Stone, it’s Arrington,” she said. Stone and Arrington had once been a very big item, to the extent of his having fathered a son by her.

  “Well, hello there,” he said. “I thought I’d never hear from you again.” They had spent one night together in his Maine house, on Islesboro, at Dark Harbor, and then she had taken her leave, saying it was over.

  “I want to hire you,” she said.

  “I’m for hire. How’s Peter?”

  “He misses his father,” she said.


  Stone wondered which father she meant, himself or her late husband, movie megastar Vance Calder, whose son the world believed Peter to be. Stone didn’t know what to say.

  “I mean Vance,” she said. “He hardly knows you.”

  “All right,” Stone said. “Why do you want to hire me?”

  “I’m going to say this fast, because I’m sleepy, and I want to go to bed. I know you’re at Elaine’s at this hour, but I’m not.”

  “So, say it fast.”

  “You remember Centurion Studios? A large Hollywood film factory.”

  “I believe so.”

  “You remember that Vance owned a third of the shares when he died?”

  “I didn’t know it was that much.”

  “He’d been buying the stock for many years, every time somebody died and some shares became available.”

  “Got it.”

  “There’s a stockholders’ meeting coming up, and there will be a vote on whether to sell the studio. It has always been closely held, and Vance wanted to keep it that way.”

  “Who’s buying?”

  “I don’t know, some corporation or other. They’ll sell the property to developers, and the studio will just be a letterhead.”

  “And what do you want me to do?”

  “Vote my shares against the sale, and do what you can to get the other stockholders to vote against it.”

  “How many are there?”

  “A couple of dozen, maybe. I’ll send you a list, along with my signed proxy, to the Bel-Air house. You can have the guesthouse, as usual. Manolo and Carmen will take good care of you.”

  Manolo and Carmen were the Filipino houseman and his wife who ran the place. Stone knew he would be taken care of very well indeed. “All right, I guess I can manage that.”

  “Can you get there tomorrow?”

  “Or the day after,” Stone said. He wanted to fly himself in his new airplane.

  “I guess that will be all right,” she answered. “You remember Rick Barron?”

  “Yes, I met him and his wife at Vance’s burial.”

  “That’s right. Call him as soon as you get there, and take him and his wife, Glenna, to dinner. Rick is in his nineties now, but he’s sharp as a straight razor, and he’s leading the fight to keep the studio closely held.”

  “I’ll be glad to do that.”

  “In fact, invite them to the house, and let Manolo and Carmen do the dinner. They know all the Barrons’ favorite dishes.”

  “All right.”

  “Call me when you get there?”

  “Will do.”

  “Say hello to Elaine and Dino.”

  “Will do.”

  “Goodbye.” She hung up.

  Stone put away his phone. “Arrington says hello to both of you,” he said to them.

  “How is she?” Elaine asked.

  “Sleepy,” Stone replied. “Dino, you want to spend a few days in L.A.?”

  “On whose nickel?” Dino asked.

  “Transportation is free, and we’ll be staying in Arrington’s guesthouse.”

  “I’m in,” Dino said.

  Mike spoke up. “Can you just walk away from the NYPD that way?”

  “I get time off, just like everybody,” Dino said, “but I get to approve when, and I approve this one.”

  “Okay,” Mike said.

  “Mike,” Stone said, “Dino has the NYPD by the ear, didn’t you know? He’s a law unto himself over there. The new commissioner, who doesn’t know him very well, loves him.”

  “He’d love me more, if he knew me better,” Dino said.

  Elaine pinched Dino’s cheek. “To know him is to love him,” she said, planting a big kiss on his forehead. She got up and made her move to the next table of regulars.

  Dino rubbed his cheek. “I hope she didn’t make a bruise.” “With that five o’clock shadow, who could tell?” Stone asked.

  “You guys have the life,” Mike said. “And I’ll bet you’re going to fly the Mustang out there.”

  “You betcha,” Stone replied.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Dino said. “I didn’t volunteer for suicide.”

  “It’s time you had your first flight in the Citation Mustang,” Stone said.

  “He’s right, Dino,” Mike echoed. “You’ll love it.”

  Dino looked doubtful. “I just don’t know if God intended Stone to be put in charge of a jet airplane.”

  “You liked my old airplane well enough,” Stone said.

  “Yeah, but it had a propeller up front that made it go, and I took comfort in that.”

  “The Mustang has two engines, Dino,” Mike said, “and they’re fan jets. Twice the safety.”

  “No propellers, though.”

  “Propellers would just slow it down,” Stone said.

  “Mike, you think I should do this?”

  “I’ve flown with him, Dino; he’ll get you there.”

  “Well, okay, if you say so.”

  “You get a choice of seats,” Stone said. “Up front with me, or you can lounge in the back and sleep all the way.”

  “How could I sleep with you at the controls?” Dino asked. “I’ll take my chances up front, where I can do something, if I have to.”

  “I’ll teach you to fly the airplane, Dino,” Stone said.

  “Hey, that’s a good idea. That way when you turn blue and clutch your chest, I can save myself.”

  “I wish I could be alive to see that,” Stone replied.

  2

  Stone rose the following morning, showered, shaved, packed and took his luggage down to the garage in the elevator. He put his bags in the trunk of his car and went to his office.

  His secretary, Joan Robertson, put some papers on his desk. “Sign these,” she said.

  Stone signed them.

  She picked them up. “Thank you.”

  “What were those?” Stone asked.

  “Just a complete power of attorney and assignment of all your assets to me, personally, with immediate effect.”

  “Oh, okay,” he said absently. “I’m going to L.A. for a few days,” he said.

  “Another vacation?” she asked.

  “You know I never take vacations, unless there’s work involved.”

  “What’s the work?”

  “Voting some shares at a stockholders’ meeting for Arrington Calder.”

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  “No, I have to persuade others to vote with me.”

  “If there are any women in the group, you’ll succeed,” she said.

  Stone brightened. “That’s a thought,” he said.

  “When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know—give me a week.”

  “It’s not as though you’re needed here,” she said. “I can handle whatever comes along.”

  Stone knew that was close to the truth. “Try not to practice any law,” he said. “You’ll get arrested.”

  “Don’t worry, there won’t be any of my fingerprints on anything.” She flounced back to her office.

  At Teterboro Airport, Stone did his walk-around preflight inspection of the airplane while Dino stowed their luggage in the forward compartment. When he finished, Dino was standing, staring at the airplane. It was the first time he’d seen it, Stone reflected.

  “Well, I like the paint job,” Dino said.

  “Is that it?”

  “The airplane is kind of pretty; it looks like it could fly, if it had to.”

  Stone pushed him aboard and settled him in the copilot’s seat, then pulled up the stairs and closed the door. He got into the pilot’s seat, ran through the checklist, and started the engines.

  Then he called Teterboro Clearance and got his IFR clearance for his first leg.

  “How many times do we have to stop?” Dino asked.

  “Twice, if we’re lucky. There’ll be very little in the way of headwinds today, maybe even a little tailwind. That’s unusual.”

  “I’ll take what I can get,” D
ino said.

  Stone radioed Ground Control and got permission to taxi. Shortly, they were ready for takeoff.

  Stone looked at Dino and saw a film of sweat on his forehead. “I turned on the air-conditioning,” he said. “Are you still hot?”

  “I’ll be okay,” Dino said, mopping his brow.

  It occurred to Stone that Dino might really be nervous about flying in the jet. “I’ll give you something to look at,” he said, pointing to the copilot’s Primary Flight Display. He pressed a button on the throttle and a wide, magenta V popped up on the screen. “When we take off, all I have to do is to keep the yellow V, which represents the airplane, nestled up against the magenta V, which represents our climb angle and course. As long as the two are together, we’re fine.”

  “Okay,” Dino said, tightening his seat belt.

  The tower called and cleared them for takeoff. Stone taxied onto Runway One, stopped the airplane, centered the heading control, and, with the brakes on, shoved the throttles all the way forward. The engines ran up, and he released the brakes. The little jet shot down the runway, and, at ninety knots, Stone rotated, pulling the yellow V up into the magenta V. He raised the landing gear and flaps, then, at 700 feet, he pressed the autopilot button and turned the heading bug to 040. At 1,500 feet, following the departure procedure, he turned to 280 and climbed to 2,000 feet, then the controller gave him 10,000 feet, and they were on their way.

  Dino was staring at the PFD.

  “It’s okay to look out the window now,” Stone said. “The autopilot is flying the airplane, and it is a better pilot than I.”

  Dino looked around. “This isn’t bad,” he said. “It’s quieter than your old airplane, and smoother, too.”

  “That’s the idea,” Stone said. The controller handed them off to New York Center, and they climbed to their final altitude of Flight Level 340, or 34,000 feet. Stone reduced power to the cruise détente on the throttles. “That’s it,” he said. “Now the airplane flies us to Wichita.”

  Dino looked at the chart on the big panel display. “That looks like a long way.”

  “See these two rings?” Stone said, pointing. “The dotted one is the distance we can fly and still have a forty-five-minute fuel reserve, and it falls beyond Wichita. The solid ring is the distance we can fly before dry tanks.”