Santa Fe Edge (10 page)

Vittorio began opening the papers to the real estate section. “Here’s one,” he said, circling an ad.

“Let’s go through them all,” Cupie said.

They spent most of an hour cutting out and dating ads for possible houses and apartments, then sorted through them, finding seven likely properties.

Cupie went through them again, checking the dates. “There are ads for three houses that stopped running in the past couple of days,” he said. “That means they’ve been rented.” He handed the ads to Vittorio.

“Two of them are from the same agent,” Vittorio said. He got out his cell phone and called the agent’s office and asked for her.

“Hello?”

“This is Sergeant Rivera at the Santa Fe Police Department,” Vittorio said.

“How can I help you, Sergeant?”

“You ran ads for two rental houses in the
New Mexican,
” he said.

“More than two,” she replied. “I specialize in rentals.”

“There are two that you stopped advertising: one in Tesuque, one at Las Campanas.”

“Yes, both those have been rented.”

“Can you give me the renters’ names?”

“Let’s see,” she said. “The Tesuque place went to a Mr. and Mrs. Torrance, and the Las Campanas house—it was a guesthouse—went to a Mrs. Keeler, from San Francisco.”

“Can you describe Mrs. Keeler?” Vittorio asked.

“Five-six or -seven, slim, auburn hair, very attractive.”

“Thank you so much,” Vittorio said and hung up. He turned to Cupie. “What was that guy’s name that Barbara married in San Francisco?”

Cupie screwed up his face. “Walter something, electronics zillionaire. I can’t think of the last name.”

“Could it have been Keeler?” Vittorio asked.

“It could have been, and it was!” Cupie said.

The two men exchanged a high five.

“Let’s get out to Las Campanas,” Vittorio said.

18

B
arbara dressed carefully in casual but elegant clothes: tight silk pants and a tight cashmere sweater that showed off her cleavage.

At dusk she turned out the lights in her guesthouse and walked up to Dolly’s place, bearing a good bottle of wine. As she reached the door it occurred to her that she should have left a light on for her return home, but then it didn’t really matter, as she kept a small flashlight in her purse. She knocked on the door.

Dolly opened it, smiling. “Hi, there,” she said. “Come on in.” She was dressed similarly to Barbara but wearing a small apron.

“I don’t know what you’re cooking, but I brought some wine,” Barbara said, offering it.

“Zinfandel,” Dolly said, reading the label. “Perfect. We’re having a veal stew. Would you like something to drink?”

“Do you have bourbon?” Barbara asked.

“Bought some this afternoon,” Dolly said, going to the little bar and holding up a bottle of Knob Creek. “Tip drinks this, so it must be good.” She poured some over ice.

“My favorite,” Barbara said, accepting the drink. “Tip seems like quite a fellow,” she said. “I was very impressed with that last putt of his. He must do very well.”

“Yes, he does. He’s won only a few times on the tour, but he’s usually in the top ten, sometimes in the top five. I don’t think the public understands how much money a pro can make playing that kind of golf regularly and finishing high up consistently.”

“How much can he make?”

“A million or two a year, maybe.”

Barbara whistled. “I hope he’s paying you well.”

“He is, and he just added this house to my compensation package.”

“Is he single?”

“Yes. He was widowed recently. His wife was either murdered or committed suicide, I’m not sure which.”

“In that house next door?” Barbara asked.

“Yes, in their bedroom. Tip came back from playing a tournament in Dallas and found her.”

“He must be very shaken up, but he played so well in Houston.”

“He seems oddly serene,” Dolly said, “but I think he’s just a stoic. That’s my read on him, anyway.”

Dolly sat down beside her on the sofa with her drink. “Dinner’ll be ready in half an hour. There’s nothing left to do but serve it.”

Barbara started to say she was hungry, but she stopped in mid-sentence. She’d heard a car drive up and stop nearby, and now she heard two car doors close. She got up and peered through the little window in Dolly’s front door. “A car,” she said. “Two flashlights.”

VITTORIO STOPPED THE SUV at the locked gate of the main house, and he and Cupie got out. He handed Cupie a compact flashlight. “These are very good,” he said. “Lithium ion batteries: They’re bright enough to temporarily blind a man in the dark.”

They climbed over the low gate. “Let’s have a look at this guesthouse,” Vittorio said.

“Pretty dark,” Cupie replied. “No lights, and the garage door is closed.”

They reached the house and walked around it, shining their lights through windows. “Very neat and clean,” Cupie said. “Doesn’t look like anybody lives here.”

“Not even a toothbrush in the bathroom,” Vittorio replied. “Why don’t we ask at the house next door? There are lights on there.”

Cupie went ahead. “Let me do it,” he said. “You’re too scary on a dark night.”

“I HAVE TO TELL YOU,” Barbara said. “One of the reasons I’m in Santa Fe is that I’m being stalked by a man I went out with after my husband died. It would be just like him to show up here or to send a private detective to find me. Looks like two men coming this way.”

“Go into the guest room and close the door,” Dolly said. “If they come here I’ll handle it.” She put Barbara’s drink in the kitchen sink and her own on the counter. The doorbell rang.

Dolly went to the door, switched on the porch light and opened the door a foot, keeping her boot jammed against it. A plump, baby-faced man in a tweed topcoat and tweed hat stood there. A few feet behind him, in the shadows, stood another man wearing a flat-brimmed hat that partly hid his face.

Cupie swept off his hat and smiled. “Good evening. I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said. “I’m looking for the woman who lives next door, a Mrs. Keeler.”

“No one lives next door,” Dolly said. “The place is owned by some people from New York, but they’re only here in the summer.”

“I’d heard that this Mrs. Keeler had rented it in the past couple of days, and it’s important I get in touch with her on a business matter. Some papers have to be signed.”

“I’d know if it had been rented,” Dolly said, “and it hasn’t. In fact, I spoke to the woman in New York this morning, and she told me they had taken it off the rental market.”

“Are you alone here, ma’am?”

“No, the main house is occupied,” she said. “Is there anything else?”

“I wonder if I could use your telephone?”

“I haven’t had it turned on yet,” she said, “and cell phones don’t work out here. Good night.” She made to close the door, but he stuck a hand through. “Here’s my card,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you would give me a call, if someone turns up in the house.”

“Sure,” Dolly said. She took the card, closed the door, locked it and turned off the porch light.

Barbara edged into the room. “Everything all right?”

“Shhh,” Dolly said, waving her back. “They haven’t gone yet. I can still see their flashlights.”

A minute passed and she heard car doors slam, then the car’s headlights came on and it turned around and went back the way it had come. “Okay,” Dolly called out. “The coast is clear.”

Barbara came back into the living room. “That was scary,” she said.

“The guy at the door wasn’t very scary, but he had a friend, and he was.”

“Did they give you a name?” Barbara asked.

“They gave me a card,” Dolly responded, handing it to her.

“Oh, I know these guys,” she said. “My ex had them tailing me in San Francisco.”

“They asked for you by name,” Dolly said, “but don’t worry, I told them the house hadn’t been rented to anyone and that the owners had taken it off the rental market.”

“Oh, thank you, Dolly,” Barbara said, kissing her on the cheek. “Now I won’t have to move.”

Dolly hugged her. “I know you’re going to be happy here, Ellie,” she said.

“I think I will be,” Barbara replied, returning the hug.

19

B
arbara awoke to the sound of her cell phone vibrating on the bedside table. Dolly was still asleep, naked, in the bed beside her, so she took the phone into the living room before she answered.

“Yes?”

“It’s Jimmy,” he said.

“Hi. It’s a little early, isn’t it?”

“I’m on Pacific time. Isn’t it later there?”

She ignored the probe. “You’re back from Santa Fe, then?”

“Yes, I got back last evening, after watching a couple of days’ shooting. I just wanted to reassure myself that my writer/director knows what he’s doing. He does.”

“That’s good.”

“Something I thought you should know: Yesterday I was followed by those two private detectives that were watching my house in L.A. when Eagle was looking for you. I think he must know you’re out and probably coming to Santa Fe. I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

“That’s good advice, Jimmy. Thanks for letting me know about the two men. I’ll watch myself.”

“You might be better off holing up here with me,” Long said. “I’ll take good care of you.”

“Thanks. I might take you up on that at some point, but I’m okay where I am for the moment.”

“Whatever you say,” he replied. “Take care of yourself, wherever you are.”

“Thanks, baby. I will. Oh, Jimmy …”

“Yes?”

“You remember you said that our pilot on the flight back from Mexico did a lot of odd jobs for you?”

“Yes, he has in the past.”

“Do you think he might do a little odd job for me?”

“Do I want to know what kind of odd job?” he asked.

“No, but you’d better find out if he’s squeamish.”

“Ooookay,” Long said. “I’ll have a chat with him. Can I reach you at the same number?”

“Yes,” she said. “Soon, please.” She closed the phone.

“Ellie?” Dolly called from the bedroom.

“I’m here,” she said, walking back there to get her clothes.

“Come back to bed,” Dolly said alluringly.

“Thanks, but I’ve got things to do today,” Barbara replied. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

“Eventually. Tip always goes to the practice range early and doesn’t get back until midmorning. I’ll be at my desk by then. What are you going to do about those two men who came last night?”

“I’m going to keep my lights off in the evening and keep my garage door closed.”

“You’re welcome to sleep here,” Dolly said.

Barbara knelt on the bed and kissed her on a nipple, then on the lips. “That’s comforting to know,” she said, then got dressed and went back to her own house.

VITTORIO RAPPED SHARPLY on the guest-bedroom door. “Wake up, Cupie! Time to get going. There’s coffee on.”

“Be there in a couple of minutes,” Cupie called back.

Vittorio went back to the kitchen, toasted a muffin and was eating when Cupie wandered in, dressed but still looking sleepy. “Morning. Kind of early, isn’t it?”

“We’ve got things to do,” Vittorio said.

“What have we got to do?”

“I want to take another look at that guesthouse in daylight.”

“Wouldn’t afternoon daylight be as good as dawn daylight?” Cupie asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“If Barbara slept there last night, maybe she’s up and around now.”

“The house was empty, Vittorio, and the neighbor confirmed it.”

“I thought the neighbor was hostile to our inquiry,” Vittorio said.

“We were two strange men at her door—one of us very strange—and after dark. What did you expect, to be invited in for a drink?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Vittorio said, “but then again, maybe not. You ready?”

“Okay, okay,” Cupie said, getting to his feet. “You got a to-go cup?”

“Take the one in your hand,” Vittorio said.

VITTORIO STOPPED THE SUV at the top of the hill above the house. He could see only a little of the guesthouse, most of it hidden by cottonwood trees. He started down the hill, then put the gearshift in neutral and let it coast down the road, braking to keep his speed from increasing.

BARBARA, SITTING IN HER kitchen over coffee, heard a brake squeal. Quickly, she put her dishes in the sink, then took her coffee mug into the bedroom, first checking that her toothbrush had been put away in the medicine cabinet. She stepped into her bedroom closet and slid the slatted door closed behind her, then stood quietly, sipping her coffee.

Shortly, she heard car doors closing and the rattle of the main gate as someone climbed over it. Then there was the crunch of shoes on gravel. The doorbell rang twice, then she heard them walking around the house. Finally, the footsteps retreated, and she heard the car doors slam. The car started and drove away.

She waited another two minutes before she came out of the closet.

“I THINK she’s back in L.A.,” Cupie said.

“Barbara
should
be here,” Vittorio responded, “and she fits the description of the woman who rented the guesthouse.”

“Just because somebody rented it doesn’t mean that she’s going to move in right away.”

“Possibly.”

“You’re like a dog with a bone,” Cupie said. “If she was here, maybe she flew back to L.A. with Long. We didn’t see him board the airplane. Maybe she was there waiting for him.”

“Cupie, have you forgotten what a determined, goal-oriented person Barbara is?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten.”

“I think you have. She wants Eagle dead, so she has to come to where Eagle is. I think she already has.”

“If she has, I think she went back to L.A. with Long.”

“It’s not like her to backtrack from her goal,” Vittorio said. “Not like her at all.”

“I don’t disagree with that, Vittorio, but people do unpredictable things sometimes.”

“I’m not going to L.A.,” Vittorio said. “You want to go, you go, but here is where the action is going to be, and this is where I’m staying.”