"Santa Fe Edge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Woods Stuart)

24

Barbara woke up at her usual hour, had some breakfast and prepared for the usual visit from Vittorio and Cupie. She cleaned the kitchen, put away her clothes and stuffed her makeup and toothbrush into the bathroom medicine cabinet.

Promptly at nine o’clock she heard the SUV stop outside on the road, and she took her coffee into the bedroom closet again.

“VITTORIO,” CUPIE SAID. “How long are we going to keep making this trip?”

“Until she shows up,” Vittorio replied. “The real estate agent has confirmed that she rented the place to Barbara, and that her lease is month-to-month. If she has gone away somewhere, she’ll return here, and when she does, she’s ours.”

They did their usual walk-around of the little house, peering into windows.

“Nothing’s changed,” Cupie said. “She’s not here.”

“Until tomorrow,” Vittorio said.

THEY WERE CLOSE ENOUGH to the bedroom window that Barbara could hear that exchange. Maybe Jimmy was right; maybe she should go to L.A. for a while. She called Jimmy.

“Hey, baby,” he said.

“I’m taking your advice, sweetheart,” she said. “Can you put me up for a while?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll get a plane from Albuquerque today and a cab to you. Should be there late afternoon.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said.

“Me, too!”

Barbara packed her bag and, being careful to leave the house exactly the way it had been, got the Mercedes station wagon out of the garage and began driving toward I-25, which would take her to Albuquerque. She backtracked a couple of times, driving through residential neighborhoods, to be sure she wasn’t being followed, then kept an eye on her tail all the way to the airport. Along the way, she used her cell phone to book a seat on a flight.

VITTORIO AND CUPIE sat in the SUV, parked just off the Plaza, with a view of the entrance to Eagle’s office building.

“He’s in for the morning,” Cupie said. “Let’s go to Tia Sophia’s and get a good breakfast.”

“Cupie,” Vittorio said with some exasperation, “you’ve got to remember that we’re not watching for Eagle, we’re watching for Barbara.”

“Well, she’s not likely to come to his office, is she? She’s much more likely to wait out near his house and shoot him when he comes home. He’s safe in his office.”

“All right, all right,” Vittorio said, starting the vehicle. “I guess I’m hungry, too.” He drove a couple of streets over and found a parking spot near Tia Sophia’s, a popular breakfast and lunch spot.

“At least we’ll get a table now,” Cupie said. “The breakfast crowd has already gone to work.”

Cupie was right. Soon they were having huevos rancheros.

BARBARA ARRIVED at Jimmy’s house in Beverly Hills a little before six, and he was waiting for her with martinis already mixed. He took her bags upstairs while she relaxed with her drink.

He came back down, poured his own martini and sat down. “So, how’s it going?” he asked.

“Not so hot,” she said. “Ed knows I’m either in town or on my way. Those two P.I.s, Vittorio and Cupie Dalton, have figured out that I rented my house, and they’re out there every day, trying to catch me there. I’m going to have to get a new place when I get back.”

“Sounds like a good idea. They can waste their time looking for you while you’re here with me.”

“Jimmy, tell me more about this pilot of yours-what’s his name?”

“Bart Cross. I’ve known him since he was a kid, and he’s done a lot of work for me on films. I helped him get a union card.”

“Is he one of those people who always needs money?”

“I think that’s true of most people, babe, but more so of Bart than most. He’s a poker player, and no better than so-so. He wins sometimes, but he loses more often. And he has to make the payments on that Beech Baron of his. That’s gotta be costing him four or five grand a month, and then there’s insurance, hangar and maintenance.”

“So, you think he’d be up for making some large cash?”

“How large?”

“I guess I’d go to twenty-five grand,” she said. “If I have to.”

“Bart would do just about anything for that kind of money,” Long said.

“Good. I’d like to meet him tomorrow. Can I have his number?”

“I’ll call him for you.”

“No, I’d rather do it directly and cut you out of this. We don’t ever want him to be able to testify that he put us in touch.”

“All right.”

“Does Bart know that I escaped from prison in Mexico?”

“Not from me he doesn’t, and nothing’s been on TV about it here, and he’s not the sort to read the papers. I’d say he’s ignorant of your Houdini act.”

Barbara looked at her watch. It was an hour earlier in Santa Fe, so she called her real estate agent.

“Yes, Mrs. Keeler?”

“I wanted to let you know that I won’t be needing the house after the end of the first month.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay longer,” the woman said. “Will you be needing another place?”

“No, I’ve decided to go back to San Francisco.” Barbara gave her a bank account number to wire her security deposit to when her month ended.

“Thank you for all your help,” she said, then hung up. She thought about Dolly Parks and whether to call her, then decided not to. Best to cut her trail clean.

“So, you’re not going back?”

“Eventually,” Barbara said, “but that house is blown for me. I’ll find another place, if I need it.”

Long went to his desk, opened his address book and wrote down a number. “Here’s Bart Cross’s cell number,” he said, handing her a slip of paper. “He’s not working at the moment, so you’ll probably catch him at home in the morning.”

Barbara tucked the paper into her bra. “Thanks, sweetie,” she said. “I’ll be sure to tell him you know nothing about my seeing him.”

“I’ve still got your old Toyota,” Long said. “It’s in the garage, on a trickle charger. It should be okay.”

“I think I’ll have another martini,” Barbara said, holding out her glass.