Tom produced a card. “This woman is the queen of Bel-Air real estate,” he said. “I’ll have her call you this afternoon, if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” Grosvenor said, pocketing the card. He began asking questions, doing the talking for both of them, and Tom responded, revealing a depth of knowledge on every subject raised. Stone hardly got a word in edgewise, but he wasn’t bored. Mrs. Grosvenor seemed content to just listen. Two hours later, they parted company.

“What do you think?” Stone asked Tom as they walked to the parking lot together.

“He asks all the right questions and doesn’t seem put off by the property prices in Bel-Air. He’ll do for a client, I think. Did you catch the reference to his airplane?”

“I must have zoned out for a while there.”

“They own a Gulfstream G450. That puts them in the stratosphere in more ways than one.”

“Yes, it does,” Stone said. He shook Tom’s hand.

“Thanks for taking them off my hands,” he said. “I doubt you’ll need any help from me, but call if you do.”

The two men got in their cars and left the hotel.

Chapter 14

Stone was having a drink before dinner with the Bacchettis and Mike Freeman, waiting for the Eagles to arrive, when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“You son of a bitch.” A woman’s voice, low and threatening. “You goddamned motherfucking bastard.” The volume was growing.

“Who is this?”

“You filthy, scum-sucking piece of shit!” She was screaming now.

“Who is this?” Stone said, then held the phone away from his ear as the screaming continued. “Stop it!” he shouted, and she did for a moment. “Now, let’s start over. Who is this?”

“This is the best actress working in movies,” she said, “the one who’s not going to get a nomination next year.”

“Charlene? Is that you?”

“How could you do it?”

“Do what? What on earth are you talking about?”

“My part in Peter’s picture—you gave it to Susannah Wilde, who won’t have the slightest idea what to do with it!”

“I didn’t give Susannah anything,” Stone said. “Peter is in charge of his own work and I stay out of it.”

“Then how is it that she’s staying at your house and she just happened to turn up at Peter’s bungalow for lunch today?”

“I set up the lunch because they both wanted to meet.”

“And he gave her my part just like that! That horrible, preposterous bitch, who can’t act her way out of a paper bag!”

“Charlene, you’re not yourself. Let’s talk another time when you can be more civil about this.”

“And thank you so much for getting me involved with that slimy adulterer Marty Stanton.”

“I didn’t get you involved—you said you wanted to meet him, so I introduced you.”