After riding a bus into Santa Monica, Booth Stallings took a taxi that let him out at the Beverly Hills Budget rental car outlet that specialized in exotic autos. On duty was the same clerk who had rented him the Mercedes 560SEL sedan that Wu and Durant drove.
She looked up when he came in, smiled and said, “Hi, there, Mr.
Stallings. Don’t tell me somebody went and stole the Mercedes?”
Stallings, remembering that her name was Gloria, decided she still had yet to experience a moment of gloom. He returned her smile and said, “Not yet, Gloria.” He paused then, frowned slightly and said,
“What’d you tell me your last name was?”
“I didn’t. But it’s Ransome with an ‘e’—at your service.”
“Well, Ms. Ransome with an ‘e,’ I need me another car.”
“Business must be good—whatever you guys are doing out there in Malibu.”
“Picture deal,” Stallings said. “A fat one.”
“No kidding? That’s wonderful. So what’ve you got in mind? Just remember we’re talking car now.”
“If you were a few years older, we might be talking Tahoe weekend.”
“I’ve gone out with older guys.”
“To Tahoe?”
“No, but there’s always the first time.”
“Tell you what, Gloria,” Stallings said, leaning on the counter, “after we sign this picture deal, I’m going to treat myself to both a weekend in Tahoe and a new car and probably could use some company.”
“What kind of car?” she asked.
“I’ve been thinking about a Mercedes 500SL.”
“Good Lord! You know how much those things cost?”
“About a hundred thousand. But what I’m more interested in right now is how much they rent for. I thought I’d test-drive one for a few days before deciding anything.”
“Must be some picture deal.”
“Like I said, it’s fat. Real fat.”
“Well, the 500SL rents for four hundred a day but you’ve got to put up a cash deposit.”
“How much?”
“Five thousand.”
“That’s fine. You got one ready to go?”
“Let me check.” She turned to her computer, tapped away for a few moments, studied the screen and said, “You’re in luck. We’ve only got the one and it’s available.”
“You’ve only got one?”
“They’re real expensive and we don’t get all that many calls for it.”
“Is it black?”
She nodded. “You got something against black?”
“No, I was just wondering if it’s the same one a friend of mine rented last New Year’s Eve.”
“Like me to check that for you?”
Stallings gave her his warmest smile. “Only if it’s not any trouble.”
Thirty-eight
Quincy Durant didn’t like the looks of Cousin Colleen’s Bed & Breakfast Inn and said so. Georgia Blue replied that if he had seen it for the first time at night, he would’ve liked it even less.
Durant stopped the rented Ford sedan near the large sign where the red neon letters forever blinked “No Vacancy.” He studied the huge old house in the distance and decided it looked like a place to store ancients until they breathed their last while watching black-and-white reruns of I Love Lucy and Perry Mason. As if reading his thoughts, Georgia Blue said, “It’s just somewhere to lie low until the looted trust funds reach the Bahamas.”
Durant grunted, then drove up the long brick drive, taking in the trees and drought-resistant flowers that he thought could use some moisture. In the fan-shaped parking area, Blue noticed that the elderly MG roadster was gone although the Toyota pickup truck remained.
Durant parked next to the pickup and said, “What d’you want to do with the money?”
“Lock it in the trunk?”
“Trunks take about three seconds to open.”
“You carry it, then,” she said.
When they were out of the Ford, Durant followed Georgia Blue up the nine steps to the porch. As they neared the doorbell, she also noticed that the stained-glass panel of a bowl of cherries, through which Otherguy Overby had rammed his elbow, had been replaced by one representing a bowl of purple grapes.
