38 

THEY MET OUT at the pool, where Stone was wearing a robe, and Ana was swimming laps. Cupie looked much the same, Stone thought, watching him fanning himself with his straw hat.

The butler approached. “What can we get you?” Stone asked.

“Gin and tonic, mostly gin,” Cupie replied. “Warm day, isn’t it?”

“Take off your jacket, Cupie, and cool down.”

Cupie did so. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“We’re having lobster salad for lunch. That okay with you?”

“Fine, just fine.” Cupie took a long pull on his drink, sat back, and sighed.

“What’s Vittorio up to these days?” Stone asked.

“Oh, you know Vittorio—he’s sitting on a mesa in New Mexico, contemplating the sunrise, or the sunset, or whatever. Work still brings us together, but if he tried to live on Venice Beach, he’d wither and die.”

“I expect he would.”

“I guess you’d like to know what I know,” Cupie said.

“How much is it going to cost me?” Stone asked.

“When you know all and have had a chance to act on it, I will leave my fee entirely to your generosity, Stone.”

“I’ll hope for the best.”

“All right,” Cupie said, “I have just come from the office of one Dax Baxter, a movie producer of some repute, not all of it good. Ring a bell?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He sicced a hit man, known as the Russian, on a friend of mine recently.”

“My condolences to you and your friend’s family.”

“Unnecessary,” Stone replied. “Save them for the Russian.”

Cupie’s eyebrows shot up. “Your friend offed the Russian?”

“Close, but not quite. The Russian came after him with a knife, and my friend put him in the hospital for several days.”

“Out of professional curiosity, may I know the extent of his injuries?”

“He would have cut the man’s leg off, if the shinbone hadn’t gotten in the way.”

Cupie blinked. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Sorry?”

“Not for the Russian, for your friend. The only thing worse than having the Russian trying to kill you would be having tried to kill the Russian and failed.”

“The man is of a vengeful nature, then?”

“He’s the last man on earth I’d want to have a grudge against me—except, maybe, your friend. Would you like me to arrange some personal security for him?”

“I think he’s already demonstrated the lack of a need,” Stone replied. “The Russian is the one who’s limping. Now, what’s all this about Dax Baxter?”

“Ah, I almost forgot. Apparently, you have somehow offended Mr. Baxter. Do you have any idea how?”

“Well, when he applied for membership in the Arrington Club, I signed the rejection. That was this very morning.”

“And he knows that?”

“I expect so.”

“So, you’ve humiliated him?”

“Not unless he tells all his friends. We didn’t publish the letter.”

“All Dax’s friends would fit into a phone booth, if such still existed,” Cupie said. “May I ask how you delivered the rejection letter?”

“By e-mail, I believe.”

“That’s good, because it isn’t lying on his desk where his staff could read it.”

“What do I care?”

“Well, if somebody who is acquainted with the gossip industry saw the letter, it might soon find itself in the wrong mailbox.”

“Not my problem,” Stone said.

“Dax’s office called me this morning and told me to get my ass to his office in a hurry.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Only when there’s nobody else he could call. Anyway, I went over there and he threw a thick Google printout at me—all about you—and hired me to find out something that could ruin you. He’s paying twenty-five grand, half in advance.”

“Well, I wish I could help you, Cupie, but I don’t know of anything that could allow Dax Baxter to ruin me.”

Their lobster salads arrived; Ana joined them and was introduced.

“Cupie, here, is an ace private eye,” Stone said to her, “and he has just been telling me that Dax Baxter has hired him to ruin me because of the rejection letter I signed.”

“Ruin you? How’s he going to do that?”

“I’ve just been trying to think of a way, so that Cupie can collect the other half of his fee, but so far, nothing.”

“Ana,” Cupie said, “perhaps you know some dirty little secret of Stone’s that you could share with me?”

“Well,” she said, “I ran a check on him recently, and he appears to be as clean as a hound’s tooth.”

Stone put down his fork and swallowed. “You ran a check on me?”

“Of course, darling. I don’t go jetting off to L.A. with a man I don’t know everything about. It’s not good for a girl’s rep.”

“And it’s how I stay in business,” Cupie said, handing her a business card. “I’m at your service at all times.”

“Since I have been unable to assist Cupie,” Stone said to her, “perhaps your investigation turned up something damning.”

“I’m afraid not,” she said to Cupie. “As I said, as clean as a hound’s tooth.”

“That’s very disappointing,” Cupie replied, then he brightened. “Here’s a thought,” he said. “We think of something so obviously untrue that no one would ever believe it. I give that to Dax, he circulates it, then you sue him for defamation and nail him to the wall.”

“That is an absolutely terrible idea, Cupie,” Stone said. “If you do that, half the people who read or hear this ‘obviously untrue’ thing that no one will believe, will believe it, and my sterling character will forever be besmirched.”

“Well, there is that,” Cupie said.

“Cupie,” Stone said, “I’m afraid my contribution to your Dax-generated enterprise is going to have to begin and end with lunch.”

“And a very fine lunch it has been,” Cupie replied, putting down his fork and sipping his Puligny-Montrachet. “I consider it a good use of my time.”

“For which Dax is paying,” Stone said, “not I.”

“I cede you that point,” Cupie said. “Billing will not occur.”

“I hear that Mr. Baxter has a reputation for being reluctant to pay his debts,” Stone said.

“A well-earned reputation,” Cupie said. “I compensated for that by doubling my fee and getting half up front in cash.”

“Then you will both be happy,” Stone said. “You will have been paid, and Dax will believe he has screwed you.”

“A happy circumstance, is it not?” Cupie said, beaming. He shook hands, thanked Stone for the lunch, and departed.