“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
“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.”
“Okay,” Cupie said. “We’ll stay here, but what are we going to do next?”
“Since we don’t know where she is,” Vittorio said, “we should stick with Eagle.”
“He won’t like being tailed,” Cupie pointed out.
“Then he shouldn’t know,” Vittorio said.
20
Ed Eagle was back at his law office, having had enough of watching the sausage that was film made ever so slowly. He had some phone calls to return and some correspondence to dictate, and he was at it when his secretary buzzed him.
“Yes?”
“District Attorney Roberto Martinez for you on line one. You in?”
“I’ll get it,” Eagle said. He pressed the button. “Hello, Bob?”
“Morning, Ed,” Martinez said. “I thought you had gone into the film business. You back earning an honest living again?”
“Yep. I discovered that the film business can get along without me. I spent two days at that studio and couldn’t think of a single suggestion to make. You wouldn’t believe how long it takes them to get a scene in the can.”
“No, and I don’t want to hear about it,” Martinez said, “unless there are some very beautiful women in that movie.”
“Only two: One of them is sleeping with the director, and the other is sleeping with me.”
“Rats. Listen, can you use some good news?”
“Always.”
“The crime lab called me this morning with some new information that casts a new light on the Constance Hanks case.”
“You have my undivided attention,” Eagle said.
“A technician found two lipstick smears on the pillow on which Mrs. Hanks’s head rested when found.”
“Did they belong to Mrs. Hanks?”
“One of them did,” Martinez said.
“Aaaaah,” Eagle said. “And the other?”
“The technician at the scene took samples of all of the lipsticks belonging to Mrs. Hanks-the ones in the medicine cabinet and her dressing table, and the second smear didn’t match any of them. A detective interviewed the Hanks’ housekeeper on the day of the murder, and she told him she’d changed the bed linens the day before, so the unidentified smear was made within twenty-four hours of Mrs. Hanks’s death.”
“Any DNA mixed in with the lipstick?”
