took a shuddering gulp from the cut-crystal tumbler, angrily contemplating the turn of events that had necessitated the loss of his precious souvenirs.
How had they found him?
With an increasing sense of outrage, Carns wrestled with the question. At last, though unable to arrive at a conclusion, his thoughts kept returning to a common dominator, a thread running through the entire fabric of recent events. The maggot appellation. The furtive meeting he had witnessed at the West LA health club. The blond reporter’s inflammatory broadcasts. The police trap in Sherman Oaks. His near-capture at Van Owen’s condo. And now this.
Kane.
Carns drained his Scotch and poured another. But instead of drinking it, he set aside the tumbler, his mind revisiting a dangerous stratagem that had occurred to him earlier that afternoon. At first it had seemed precipitous, even foolhardy; the product of anger, not logic. But the more he thought about it, the more the plan began to crystallize into what possessed the earmarks of an intriguing countermove.
Obviously, the police were hoping he would make a mistake. Now that he knew of their presence, he could suspend the game-indefinitely, if he had to. Well, maybe not indefinitely, but long enough. Unfortunately, he also realized that the watchers wouldn’t give up. They weren’t certain of his guilt. They couldn’t be; they would have taken action by now if they were. But if things went on too long, they’d eventually tire of waiting and come for him.
When they did, they would find nothing in his house. Nonetheless, a chance remained that with the publicity certain to follow, something unexpected might arise. For instance, someone at the rental garage might remember his face. A search there could prove disastrous. Yet paradoxically, the very police surveillance now in place offered a hope of exoneration. After all, what better proof of his innocence could there be than if another murder were to take place while he was being watched?
Slowly, a move that Carns had originally deemed unthinkable took shape in his mind. An hour later, after examining it from every angle, he knew it would work… if he had the nerve to pull it off.
Carns came to a decision. That night, if everything went as planned, he would turn adversity to advantage, eliminate all weaknesses, and settle a debt. Smiling, he retrieved his drink and raised his glass to toast his reprisal. But instead of drinking, he dumped the amber liquor into the sink. If he were to succeed tonight, he would need all his powers. And he would succeed.
He had no choice.
51
The lighted ball in Times Square wouldn’t descend for another hour, but already I felt myself growing progressively depressed. For some reason New Year’s Eve has always been a gloomy time for me, and this year, as I sat alone in an overstuffed armchair in Arnie’s living room, promised to be the worst. Glumly, I flipped on the TV. Minutes later, having tired of watching a crowd of celebrants jostling one another toward the magic midnight hour, I turned it off.
Earlier, Arnie and Stacy had left for a party at her studio in Venice. Though they had invited me to join them, I’d declined. Now, my mood plummeting, I began to wish I had accepted-deciding that even a room full of self-absorbed artists, sculptors, and art critics would be better than this.
With a sigh, I lifted the phone and dialed Catheryn’s mother in Santa Barbara. Moments later she answered. After warmly returning my holiday wishes, she informed me that Catheryn had temporarily returned with the children to Malibu, and she was attending a New Year’s Eve party that night at the home of Arthur West. Catheryn’s mother added that following the party, Catheryn planned to spend the night at the beach house, as by then it would be too late to return to Santa Barbara. Following a few more minutes of small talk, I hung up. I sat for a moment, dismayed that Catheryn hadn’t notified me of her plans to return to the beach house, even if it were only for a short time. True, I had assured her that Carns was safely under police surveillance, but still…
I briefly considered calling Arthur’s house. Deciding against it, I dialed the beach house instead, hoping to get one of the kids. When the machine picked up, I disconnected without leaving a message, remembering that on occasion Catheryn and I, like other parents caught in the holiday babysitter crunch, had brought our children with us to various New Year’s parties-including a past one at Arthur’s. Not an ideal solution but better than none, with older kids watching their younger peers in a room stocked with cookies, soft drinks, and videos.
As a precaution I contacted the Malibu sheriff’s station, identified myself, and requested that local units keep an eye on the beach house. Afterward boredom set in once more. Idly, I spent the next ten minutes calling friends in the department. Not surprisingly, everyone was out. I finally reached Paul Deluca on his cell. He, along with several members of the OC sheriff’s surveillance unit, was spending the evening in a van across from Carns’s estate.
“Anything happened recently?” I asked once Deluca had completed a colorful complaint about working on Christmas Eve.
“Naw,” Deluca answered. “He left for a couple hours. Gave the mobile guys something to do,” he added, referring to the six-car surveillance team stationed at various points around Coto to pick up Carns whenever he left. “Otherwise, things have been quiet. After doing some shopping, he came home, made a fire, and stayed in the rest of the day. Lights are on in all the windows. No movement inside. No calls, either.”
“You guys get a GPS transmitter on his car?”
“Yeah.”
“Did the van or the Toyota show up?”
“Nope.”
I thought a moment. “A fire, huh? It had to be seventy, seventy-five out today.”
“Closer to eighty down here. Maybe he has air conditioning. We sure as hell don’t.”
“Tough,” I said. “Listen, I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you’re not doing, but I just found out that Kate and the kids have returned to the beach house. If there’s any change in the situation at Carns’s, I want to know.”
“Kane, I hate to bring this up, but you’re no longer on the case. Snead made a big deal outta nobody talkin’ to you. If he finds out you’ve been checking up like this, he’s gonna-”
“I’ll handle Snead.”
Deluca hesitated, probably realizing that wasn’t an answer. “No problem,” he said anyway. “Say hi to Kate for me when you see her. And Happy New Year.
“Thanks, Paul. You, too.”
Allison sat up in bed. Her throat burned; her head throbbed; her entire body ached. She felt terrible. With a pang of self-pity, she realized she hadn’t had the flu this bad in years. But something had roused her from the medicine induced lethargy that had kept her under the covers most of the evening. What?
Callie?
No. She’s at the vet’s.
She glanced at a clock on her night table. The numerals were out. Puzzled, she reached over to turn on a bedside lamp. She froze as she heard a thump downstairs. A prickle shivered up her spine.
Someone was in the house.
I had been chewing on it for the past twenty minutes. My mind kept coming back to it, wouldn’t let it go.
Eighty degrees out, and Carns makes a fire?
Finally I dialed Deluca’s cell phone again.
Deluca answered on the second ring. “What’s the matter, Kane? No parties to go to?”
“Listen, Paul. This may be important. Are you sure about his making a fire?”
“I’m sure. Smoke was pouring out one of the big brick chimneys for most of the afternoon.”
“Anything unusual about it? The smoke, I mean.”
