by Stuart Woods
“Freeze!” Rivera said weakly. He was sitting on the kitchen floor, his back against a cabinet.
“It’s Billy Barnett. Put the gun down.”
“Help Rossi,” Rivera said.
Teddy grabbed a dish towel from the kitchen counter, knelt beside Rossi, and pressed it to his chest. He picked up Rossi’s hand and put it on top of the towel. “Press,” he said, then turned back to Rivera.
A small hole in Rivera’s shirt trickled blood. “Don’t call it in,” Rivera said.
“Why not?”
“You’re not here, and Sergei is in your car, headed down the PCH. I think he’s going to the trailer park, number 601. I fired two rounds, and I may have hit him. I’ll give you as much of a head start as I can. Check on Joe.”
Teddy went to Rossi and put a hand to his neck, looking for a pulse. The man stopped breathing.
Teddy sagged. He could hardly do chest compressions with that knife wound where it was. It would just pump out more blood. He turned his attention to Rivera.
“He okay?” Rivera asked.
Teddy shook his head.
“Go,” Rivera said. “Kill the sonofabitch. And by the way, Baxter is back in L.A., at his house on Mulholland.” He gave him the number. “Go,” he said again.
Teddy turned, ran for the garage, got the car started, and went back the way he had come. If Kasov had headed for L.A. he was gone. His only chance of catching up to him was the trailer park, if that was where he was going.
54
RIVERA SAT NEXT to his dead partner. He reached out and held his hand. “It was my fault, Joe,” he said. “I should have gone in there.” He looked at his watch; he had to give Barnett five minutes, anyway. Instead, he found his phone and called Chita.
“Carlos?”
“I’m sorry to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“Listen, I’m not going to make it to dinner.”
“That’s okay, we’ll do it later.”
“It’ll be a while. I got shot.”
“Carlos!”
“Don’t worry, I’m going to be okay. An ambulance is on the way now, be here in a minute.”
“Where will they take you?”
“I don’t know, maybe UCLA hospital.”
“I’ll be there,” she said.
“Gotta run,” he replied.
“I’ll be there.” They both hung up.
Carlos pulled on the cord of the land line until the telephone fell to the floor, then he dialed 911.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” She sounded very young.
“Two officers down, one stabbed, one gunshot wound.” He gave her the address.
“Stay on the line, Officer, while I call it in.”
“Okay.” He could hear her using the radio.
“They’re on the way,” she said. “You stay with me. Talk to me.”
“What’s your name?”
“Emma.”
“I’m Carlos.”
“Are you bleeding a lot, Carlos?”
“Not a lot. I think it was a .22. Don’t worry, I’ll make it. What hospital will they take me to?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll hear after they pick you up.”
“Do me a favor—call this cell number.” He gave her Chita’s cell. “Tell her which hospital I’m going to. She’s on the way to UCLA now. I don’t want her to go to the wrong hospital.”
“How’s your partner doing?”
“He didn’t make it,” Carlos said. “Nothing . . . I could do for him.”
“Anybody else I can call for you?”
“No, nobody else. I can hear the ambulance now, so you can go back to work.”
“I’ll wait until they’re with you.”
He heard doors slamming and people running. “They’re here,” he said. “Thanks.” He hung up and passed out.
• • •
TEDDY MADE THE LEFT turn into the trailer park, then eased off the throttle; he didn’t want to make any more noise than necessary. He pulled over to the side of the road, got a small flashlight from the glove compartment, got out of the car, and began trotting up the drive, unholstering the 9mm. Up ahead, he could see the rear of the Mercedes protruding from a driveway, and as he approached it, he saw that the driver’s door was open, and the car was still running.
He hoisted a foot and slid a knife out of the heel, holding it in his left hand. The trailer door was open, and a light was on. He heard a man’s voice. “Now you listen to me, Baxter,” he was saying. “I’m at Dimitri’s trailer, and I’ve taken a bullet. No! Don’t call an ambulance! There’s a doctor named Schweitzer, near the trailer park. Do you have his number? Call him and get him over here now. Tell him to bring an IV, some Lidocaine and antibiotics. He’ll need surgical stuff, have some stitching to do. I’ll need blood, type O. You got that?”
Teddy knelt and peeped around the doorjamb. Kasov was sitting at a desk, and he was wearing a shoulder holster with a weapon in it. He could see the silencer protruding from the bottom. Good.
“Don’t you worry about Barnett,” Kasov was saying. “He is a dead man. Call Schweitzer!” He hung up, and he was panting.
Teddy stepped through the doorway, pistol out in front of him. “Good evening, Sergei,” he said. The man whipped around and got a hand on the butt of his pistol. “No! Don’t reach for it! I’ll put one in your head.”
“You are Barnett,” Sergei panted. “I suppose you’re going to kill me.”
“That would be a great pleasure,” Teddy said, “but then I’d have to explain how my bullet got into your head. No, I think I’ll just wait for you to bleed out. It won’t be long. Are you in pain?”
“Yes,” Sergei replied. “What do you think?”
“I’m delighted to hear it. Dimitri died in great pain—bled out, just like you. Do you know why you’re panting like that? It’s because your body cavity is filling up with your blood, and it’s pressing on your lungs.”
Sergei made a prolonged groaning noise as he turned the swivel chair so that he was facing Teddy. “Doctor!” he said.
Teddy thought he was asking for a doctor, then he sensed someone standing to his left. He swung the blade in his left hand, not really aiming at anything. There was a scream, and he glanced to his left. A man was standing there with a slash across his face. He dropped a medical bag from his hand.
Sergei got to his feet and staggered toward Teddy, clawing at his holstered weapon. Teddy retreated in small steps; he didn’t want to fire and then have to find the bullet. Sergei fell to his knees, then facedown. Blood oozed from around his body. He couldn’t see any breathing.
Teddy went to the door and stepped over the doctor’s cowering form. “If anybody asks,” he said to the man, “my name is Dax Baxter. That’s Dax Baxter.” He left him there, still alive, and trotted back to his car. He started it, made a U-turn, and got back onto the highway, headed toward Sunset.
No need to speed now, he thought. Just take it easy.
• • •
CARLOS CAME TO with the pungent smell of ammonia in his nostrils. He was on a stretcher, being carried out of the house.
“Who did this to you, Detective?” a cop was asking. “Did you know the man?”
“Yes,” Carlos said.
“What was that again?”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
“Sergei,” Carlos replied, then passed out again.
55
TEDDY CONSIDERED GOING back to his house and talking to the police, but he thought better of it. He’d leave Sally’s car where it was and let the police deal with it. Back on the highway, he turned left and drove up Sunset. At the Arrington’s gate he stopped.
“Evening, Mr. Barnett,” the guard said. He was wearing a name tag that said Earl.
“Evening, Earl.” He handed the man a hundred-dollar bill. “It’s unlikely that anyone would ask, but if anyone does, I’ve been in my bed all night.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Barnett. I’ll see that the logbook jibes with that.”
“Thanks, Earl, and good night.” Five minutes later he slid into bed beside Sally.
She snuggled close. “I don’t want to know where you’ve been,” she said.
“I haven’t been anywhere,” Teddy replied, kissing her. “I’ve been right here beside you all night.”
“Of course you have.”
• • •
TEDDY’S CELL PHONE rang at seven AM. “Hello?” he said sleepily.
“Mr. Barnett?”
“Yes. What time is it?”
“Seven-oh-six,” the man said. “I’m sorry to wake you so early, but this is Detective Schwartz of the LAPD. I wanted you to know that there was an incident at your home in Malibu last night. Where are you?”
“I’m staying with a friend in Bel-Air.”
“That’s just as well. There are still officers at your home. Two police officers were wounded there last night, one of them fatally.”
“Who are they?”
“Detectives Carlos Rivera and Joseph Rossi, who is the deceased.”
“Detective Rivera called me last night and said he thought there might be an intruder in my house. I told him where to find a key. I’m sorry to hear what happened.”
“Detective Rivera is recovering at the UCLA Medical Center. He should be out of the hospital in a couple of days.”
“I’m glad to hear it. When will your people have my house cleared?”
“This morning sometime.”
“Well, I’m enjoying my friend’s place, so I think I’ll stay another day or two.”
“May I ask where you’re staying?”
“My friend has a cottage at the Arrington Hotel.”
“I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable. May I contact you at this number should I have any questions?”
“Of course. I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”
• • •
STONE BARRINGTON WAS having breakfast at Ana’s house in Santa Fe when his cell rang. “Hello?”
“Hi, Stone, it’s Cupie.”
“Good morning, Cupie. You’re up early.”
“I had a worm to catch. Listen, I thought you’d like to know that the heat seems to be off Dax Baxter. He called a few minutes ago and told me to pull my guys off him.”
“Did he say what the reason was for his new confidence?”
“He said the guy who was after him is dead.”
Stone’s stomach lurched. “Good luck to him,” he said. “Gotta run.”
“See ya, Stone.” They both hung up.
Stone immediately called Billy Barnett.
“Hello?”
“Billy?”
“Good morning.”
“I’m relieved to hear your voice,” Stone said.
“Relieved? Why?”
“I just got a call from a PI I know, and he told me you were dead.”
“Let me see,” Teddy said. “No, I’ve still got a pulse. Where did he hear that?”
“From Dax Baxter. He had four men protecting him, and he told my friend to call them off.”
“Because I’m dead?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Listen, Stone, we’re really enjoying the house.”
“Stay as long as you like, Billy, and take care of yourself.”
The two men hung up.
• • •
SALLY NUDGED TEDDY. “What was that about your having a pulse?”
“I do,” Teddy said. “Why don’t you feel around for it, just to be sure.”
“Love to,” she replied.
• • •
CARLOS RIVERA WOKE up with sunlight streaming through a window. Chita was asleep in a reclining chair next to his bed. He reached out and tweaked a toe.
Chita sat up, blinking. “You’re awake!”
“And alive, too.”
“How do you feel?”
“Surprisingly good. My chest is kind of sore.”
“When they told me you had a chest wound, I nearly died,” she said.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“You know about Joe.”
He nodded. “I wasn’t careful enough.”
There was a knock at the door, and Rivera looked up to find his LAPD and BHPD captains standing there.
“Ah, you’re awake,” Fitzhugh said.
“Awake and hungry, sir,” Rivera replied.
“I’ll go get you some breakfast,” Chita said, and disappeared into the hallway.
The two men pulled up chairs. “First of all,” Fitzhugh said, “we both want you to know how bad we feel about Joe Rossi.”
Carlos nodded. “Thank you, sir, both of you. I should have gone in first, but Joe got ahead of me. Any news on the perp?”
“A call came in last night from a Dr. Schweitzer, who had been called to the perp’s trailer to treat a gunshot wound. He found Kasov dead—probably your bullet. We’re running the ballistics now. Another man was present, who knifed the doctor—non-fatal wound.”
“What other man?”
“He told the doctor his name was Dax Baxter. We’ve got him down at the station now, but he’ll be released soon. He had four security guys sitting on him at his house, and they backed him up, said he never left. Any idea who else the guy could be?”
“No, sir.”
“We were thinking, maybe, the owner of the Malibu house where you and Rossi were found. Kasov had stolen his car to make his getaway.”
“Barnett? No, sir, I don’t think so. We thought Sergei Kasov might be in his house. We found a stolen motorcycle abandoned nearby. I called Barnett, and he told me where to find a key.”
“Where was he when you spoke?”
“At the Arrington Hotel, in Bel-Air.”
“Well, he’s still there with his girlfriend, and, according to her, as well as the security log, he hasn’t left the property since arriving there yesterday.”
“Any other suspects?”
“None.”
“What kind of a doctor responds to a gunshot victim in a private home without calling nine-one-one?”
“We’re looking into the good doctor. He was very well equipped to treat the victim, but he didn’t get there fast enough.”
“Well, I’m not unhappy that Kasov is dead, and I hope it was my bullet.”
They chatted for a moment longer, then left.
Chita came back with a nurse who bore eggs and bacon. She looked at her watch. “I’d better get to work. You going to be okay?”
“You don’t have to rush. I hear Dax is going to be late.” He explained what had happened.
“Well, in that case,” she said, “I’ll beat him to Burbank.” She kissed him and left.
Rivera finished his eggs, then fell asleep again. He really hoped it was his bullet that killed Kasov.
56
DAX DROVE FROM the police station back to his house, showered and changed clothes, then drove to his office.
“Morning, boss,” Chita said brightly. “Good trip to Santa Fe?”
“Very good,” Dax replied. “Hal Palmer is coming in at noon to work on a screenplay with me. Order us a good lunch from the commissary.”
“Okay, boss.”
• • •
TEDDY GOT A call from the LAPD later in the morning, saying that a Mercedes convertible registered in his name that had been reported stolen had been found at a trailer park on the Pacific Coast Highway, undamaged. He was told where he could recover it. He hung up. “They found your car,” he said.
“I didn’t know it was lost.”
“I forgot to tell you. Somebody stole it last night. We’ll pick it up later today at the police pound.” He called the office and told them he would be out a couple more days. “If anyone calls, say that I’m not at work and you don’t know when to expect me.”
• • •
RIVERA GOT A CALL from Captain Fitzhugh later in the morning. “You’ll be happy to know that the bullet found in Kasov matches your gun’s ballistics on file.”
“Thank you, sir, that’s good news.”
“The LAPD is very impressed with you, Carlos.”
“Oh?”
“Well, in a matter of days you solved the shooting of their two detectives and shot their assailant. It was intimated to me that if you’d like to go work over there, they’d be glad to have you.”
“That’s very flattering, sir.”
“On the other hand, Lieutenant Goodwin is up for retirement in a few months, and if you’d like to continue working here, I’d be disposed to promoting you to head of the squad.”
“That sounds great, sir.”
“Then you’d better start studying for the lieutenant’s exam, which happens in three months.”
“I’ll do that, sir.”
“When they release you, take a week and rest up. There’ll be an inspector’s funeral for Joe Rossi next week. I’ll let you know the day and time.”
“Thank you, sir.” They hung up.
• • •
DAX BAXTER SAT at his desk. For some reason, he didn’t feel as relieved as he thought he should. He Googled Centurion Studios and called the Barrington unit. “Billy Barnett, please,” he said to the woman who answered.
“I’m afraid Mr. Barnett is not working today,” she said, “and we don’t know when he’ll be in. May I take a message?”
Baxter hung up. He felt better now.
• • •
TEDDY AND SALLY drove to the LAPD pound and rescued her car, then Sally said she’d like to do some shopping, and they’d meet back at the Arrington in time for drinks. Teddy watched her drive away, then drove up to Mulholland Drive. He found Dax’s house, a very large establishment, nestled on the mountainside, overlooking the city. He parked along the drive and took a stroll, taking with him a pair of binoculars from his glove compartment.
