The Ed Eagle Novels

by Stuart Woods

  “HELLO?”

  “Hello, Barbara,” Eagle said.

  “I’ve nothing to say to you,” she said.

  “You don’t have as much money as you think.”

  “What?”

  “I stopped the wire transfer from the brokerage house, and the funds still in the Mexico City account have been frozen.”

  There was a long silence. “What do you want, Ed?”

  “A divorce. You can keep the three hundred grand you’ve still got, and, of course, you have your jewelry. You can get by on that until another patsy comes along.”

  “You bastard,” she said.

  “In a few minutes, there will be a file waiting for you at the front desk of your hotel; it contains six sheets of blank paper. All you have to do is to sign at the bottom of each sheet and give the file back to the desk clerk, and it will be done. I’ll send the final papers to you wherever you wish for another signature. We will never have to see each other or speak again.”

  “Ed, you think you know what’s happening, but you don’t.”

  “Barbara, I don’t care what’s happening. Just do as I ask, and it’s over. You don’t want to get in court with me; I think you know that.”

  “It won’t be over.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t want to go into it now.”

  “You don’t have to; just sign the sheets of paper.”

  “You could put anything you wanted above my signature,” she said.

  “I could, but I give you my word that all I will put on the paper will be a brief agreement giving you three hundred thousand dollars and terminating your marital rights.”

  “And if I don’t sign the papers?”

  “Then you will subject yourself to a punishing legal process, and, given your criminal record, you will very likely go to prison.”

  “Ed, do you think I’m stupid? I haven’t broken any laws.”

  “Barbara, if you believe that you can escape the legal process, then you have been very badly advised.”

  “You don’t know what advice I’ve taken.”

  “Whatever that advice is, what good has it done you? If you’d simply divorced me you’d have gotten a decent settlement, but instead, you tried to steal from me. I don’t understand how you could have been so stupid.”

  “You are the one who’s stupid.”

  “Don’t you realize that you’ve shot a man? That’s illegal, even in Mexico. Do you want to end up in a Mexican jail? Do you have any idea what that would be like? I can assure you it would be very different from the country club where you did your previous time. Sign the papers, and I’ll see that all that goes away; no charges will be pressed.”

  The line suddenly went dead.

  VITTORIO WATCHED as the waiter collected the cell phone from Barbara Eagle and walked around the pool toward him. It began ringing as the waiter approached. He grabbed it.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Eagle. She hung up on me. Get her signature on those sheets of paper; I don’t care how you do it.”

  “All right. Any other instructions?”

  “Don’t let her get away from you until she signs.”

  “Right.” Vittorio closed the phone, picked up his briefcase and walked into the hotel. He went to the front desk and asked for the manager. When the man appeared, Vittorio showed him ten one-hundred-dollar bills and explained to him that they would be his, if a desk clerk would inform him if Ms. Kennerly decided to check out and, further, to delay her departure for ten minutes. The man accepted the offer with alacrity, and Vittorio gave him five of the bills. He added a hundred to the offer, in exchange for a key card to her room. “It is purely a domestic matter,” he explained. “Her husband wishes to speak with her.”

  EAGLE SAT AT HIS DESK and thought. What was the matter with the woman? He had offered her an easy way out. She had behaved stupidly, but she seemed to think he was the stupid one. What the hell was going on?

  Twelve

  VITTORIO RETURNED TO HIS ROOM, DRESSED AND PACKED his things. He had a feeling that Barbara Eagle would be leaving the hotel shortly. As if to confirm his judgment, the phone rang.

  “Yes?”

  “It is the manager, señor. Señorita Kennerly has ordered a taxi in thirty minutes’ time.”

  “Thank you. You’ll have the rest of the money shortly.” He took his bag and briefcase down to the front desk, paid the manager and asked him to keep his bags for a few minutes. He removed the file from his briefcase and went upstairs. First, he listened at Barbara’s door, but he heard nothing. He looked at the surrounding doors and judged the size of her room, then he put an ear to the wall twenty feet down the hallway. He could hear water running, probably the shower.

  Vittorio went back to the door, inserted the key card and cracked the door. He could hear the shower running. He let himself in and took a seat at a table in the corner, facing the open bathroom door, then put the file on the table and waited. A moment later the water was turned off, and he heard the shower door open and close. Perhaps ten seconds later, Barbara Eagle walked into the room, naked.

  Vittorio hadn’t expected that. She was still wet, and for a woman who must have been forty, she looked spectacular. Her breasts were high, the nipples erect, her belly flat, all her pubic hair waxed away. She had a small tattoo of a bright yellow sunflower between her breasts.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, putting a finger to the brim of his hat.

  She did not move. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  “There are six sheets of paper in this file,” he said, tapping the file with a finger. “Sign each of them at the bottom, and I’ll leave you in peace.” She continued to stare at him and he at her, but she still made no move toward the table or to cover her body.

  “If you don’t sign them, I am authorized to persuade you. I think I would enjoy that.” He knew from his experience that people, especially women, often found his appearance threatening, and he used this to his advantage. He actually considered himself a peaceful, nonviolent person, but threat had its uses.

  “I’ll get a pen,” she said, nodding at her purse on the bed. She took a step toward it.

  “Stop,” he said, opening his jacket, so she could see the gun at his waist. He took a pen from his jacket pocket and placed it on the file. “Use mine,” he said.

  She did not move, just stared at him.

  “It would be a mistake to try with me what you did to the other fellow,” Vittorio said. “In fact, he is on his way here at this very moment. I think it would be good for you to be gone before he arrives.”

  She still just stood there.

  Vittorio reached into his jacket pocket and removed a small plastic box cutter, bright orange. With a thumb, he extended the blade to its maximum, about three inches. “You have such a beautiful body,” he said. “It would be a shame to have it scarred.”

  A shudder ran through her. She walked over to the table, picked up the pen, opened the file and signed all six pages at the bottom. “There,” she said. “You can tell him it’s not over.” She walked back to the bathroom door, then stopped and turned. “Now get out of my room.”

  Vittorio put a finger to the brim of his hat, took the file and left. He was surprised it had been so easy. He collected his bag and got into a cab for the airport, still thinking about the beautiful, naked body. He was halfway to the airport when a trace of doubt drifted across his mind. He opened his briefcase and took out the file. Each of the pages was signed, perfectly legibly, “Minnie Mouse.”

  “Turn around,” he said to the driver. She was a smart woman. She had known he would be looking at her tits, instead of her signature.

  As his cab turned around, another taxi passed them, and Vittorio caught sight of Cupie Dalton in the rear seat. When he had told Barbara that Cupie was on his way, he had been bluffing, but there he was. Ten minutes later, they arrived simultaneously at the hotel.

  “Wait for me,” he said to the
driver.

  Cupie got out of his cab, his left arm in a sling. “Oh, there you are.”

  Vittorio said nothing. He walked into the hotel and went to the front desk, where the manager stood. Cupie followed.

  “Señor,” he said.

  “Is she still here?”

  “She left in a taxi five minutes ago.”

  “She’s gone?” Cupie asked.

  “It seems so,” Vittorio replied. “Come on.” He went outside and waved a twenty at the doorman. “The tall American woman, which way did she go?”

  The doorman pocketed the twenty and pointed down the road, away from the airport. “That way, señor,” he said.

  “What kind of car and what color was the taxi?”

  “It was a Ford, dark blue.”

  Vittorio beckoned to Cupie and got back into his waiting cab.

  Cupie tossed his bag into the front seat and got into the back with Vittorio.

  “That way,” Vittorio said to the driver, pointing. “Find a dark blue Ford taxi.”

  “Sí, señor,” the driver said.

  “And go fast.”

  “Sí, señor.”

  “What happened? “Cupie asked.

  “She signed the papers.”

  “Then why are we chasing her?”

  “She signed somebody else’s name.”

  “And you didn’t check the signature before you let her go?”

  “My attention was diverted,” Vittorio said. “Now, please shut up and look for the taxi.”

  Thirteen

  JOE BIG BEAR WAS LET OUT OF HIS JAIL CELL AT THE SANTA Fe County Corrections Center and allowed into the yard for exercise. He found a shady spot in the shadow of the building, near a corner and sat down; he liked to stay as far as possible from the other inmates. These people were criminals, and he had nothing in common with them. He wished he could smoke, but he had given up cigarettes three years before.

  He stretched out his legs and rested his head against the side of the building. There was a little breeze, and for a few minutes, at least, he could forget he was in jail. He was aware of the murmur of voices around the corner from him, only a few feet away, but he had no interest in what other inmates might have to say. Until he heard the name Ed Eagle.

  Joe opened his eyes and moved closer to the corner of the building.

  “The guy’s got to go,” a voice said.

  “So, what’s it to me?”

  “There’s money to be made, amigo.”

  “So why aren’t you doing it yourself?”

  “I would have if they hadn’t busted me. I don’t get out until a week from Friday. You’re getting out the day after tomorrow.”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “I know a lot of things.”

  “How much money we talking about?”

  “Ten grand.”

  “All of it for me?”

  “That’s your cut.”

  “How are you going to pay me, if you’re in here?”

  “The thing has already been paid for. I’ll get it to you the moment I read in the paper that Eagle is wasted.”

  “I’ll want something up front. After all, I’ve got to live when I get out.”

  “You’ll be released along with the others at ten A.M., the day after tomorrow. There’ll be a woman in a red bandanna sitting in a pickup truck in the parking lot. Tell her your name, and she’ll give you an envelope with a thousand dollars in it. She’ll call you and meet you with the other nine grand as soon as I tell her to.”

  “Let me tell you something, amigo: if I waste this dude, and the money don’t get to me, you’re a dead man as soon as you walk out of here.”

  “That goes without saying. It also goes without saying that if you botch the job and get caught and mention me or my girl, then you’re a dead man.”

  “How’s this woman going to find me when the job is done?”

  “You got a number where you can be reached?”

  “I got a place she can leave a message.”

  “Write it on a piece of paper and give it to her when she gives you the first grand. As soon as I know the guy is dead, I’ll call her; she’ll call you, and she’ll deliver the money. Straight up, man.”

  “It better be.”

  There were noises of the men getting up, and Joe let his chin rest on his chest and snored. The two men walked past him and away. By the time he opened his eyes they were gone, probably mingling with the other prisoners. Joe closed his eyes again, just in case they were watching.

  ED EAGLE PRESENTED HIMSELF at the jail and waited in the small room for his client. Joe Big Bear eventually appeared and was unhooked by the guard, who, apparently, had a memory.

  “Morning, Joe,” Eagle said.

  “When am I getting out of here?”

  “It’s going to be a few days. We’ve got to have a hearing where the guy whose car you fixed last Wednesday afternoon can testify, but he’s gone out of town, and we don’t know where he is. We’re calling his house every day; the moment he gets back, I’ll ask for the hearing.”

  “How much bail am I going to need?”

  “I’m going for a dismissal of the charges. I’ll call the crime scene investigator who worked your trailer, and he’ll testify that the time of deaths was while you were working on a car. That should be it.”

  “Is there a chance I’ll need bail? I’m going to have to borrow some money.”

  “If the judge won’t dismiss the charges, he’s not going to release you on bail when you’re charged with a triple homicide. He’ll cut you loose, or nothing.”

  Joe nodded. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

  Oh, no, Eagle thought; don’t confess. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

  “Well, if I want both of us to be at that hearing, I’d better.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s a contract out on you.”

  “What?”

  “I overheard two guys talking in the yard this morning, arranging the thing.”

  “What, exactly, did they say?”

  “They agreed on a price. The guy who’s paying had already been paid to do the job, but he got busted, and he doesn’t get out until a week from Friday. He’s paying a guy who gets out the day after tomorrow to whack you.”

  “Who are these men? What are their names?”

  “I don’t know. I was sitting on the ground around the corner of a building from them, and I could hear their voices clearly; when they left, I pretended to be asleep, so I never saw them.”

  “I want you to find out who they are.”

  “How the hell am I going to do that? I only heard their voices. If your name hadn’t been mentioned I wouldn’t have paid any attention to them.”

  So this was what Barbara had been talking about, Eagle thought. She paid somebody to kill him before she left. With him dead, she would inherit his entire estate. Killing him was her insurance.

  “You got a gun?” Joe asked.

  “Yes.”

  “If I were you, I’d carry it at all times. Oh, one thing that might help: the guy is being released at ten A.M. the day after tomorrow, and he’s to look for a woman wearing a red bandanna in a pickup truck. She’s going to give him a thousand, and he’s going to give her a phone number, so she can meet him to pay him another nine thousand when you’re dead.”

  “That’s good, Joe. I’ll have the police pick him up and question him.”

  “That’s no good,” Joe said. “These guys saw me when they walked around the building; they’ll figure it out, and I don’t want a shiv in my back. Find another way to deal with it.”

  Eagle nodded. “All right, don’t worry.”

  “You do the worrying,” Joe said.

  EAGLE DROVE BACK to his office and called in Betty. “And bring in your pad,” he said. “I’m going to dictate a new will, and I want it executed by the end of the day.”

  Fourteen

  VITTORIO AND CUPIE DALTON
SAT IN THE BACK OF THE un-air-conditioned cab and sweated, while they looked for Barbara’s taxi.

  “Stay near the beach,” Cupie said to the man.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Vittorio admitted.

  “You and I have to get something straight,” Cupie said.

  Vittorio looked at him and waited.

  “I had thirty years on the LAPD and retired as a detective sergeant. The last ten years I served in elite investigative units, everything from homicide task forces to fugitive hunts. You may think I’m just a fat guy in a cheap suit, but I know what I’m doing, and if you and I are going to work on this you’d better find a way to show me a little respect.”

  “If you’re so good, how’d that lady happen to shoot you?”

  “First time ever anybody put a bullet in me, and I had no reason to think she was armed. How’d she manage to get past you in that hotel room? She show you her tits?”

  Vittorio managed a short laugh. “As a matter of fact, she did.”

  “Something else: that evil Indian act of yours doesn’t wash with me. Try and act like a regular human being.”

  “I am an evil Indian,” Vittorio said.

  Cupie burst out laughing. “What were her tits like?”

  “Magnificent.” He pointed at his chest. “She has a tattoo of a sunflower right here, and no bush, should you ever have to identify her.”

  “As much as I would enjoy identifying her, I’ll never have need; her face is burned into my memory. Uh-oh.” Cupie pointed ahead. “Dark blue Ford cab.”

  Vittorio peered through the windshield. “Right. Driver, twenty bucks, if you can force that cab off the road without killing anybody.”

  “Señor…” Suddenly, the driver jerked his wheel to the right as a black Suburban with darkened windows cut him off while passing his taxi. He began slowing down.

  “Keep up!” Cupie said. “Don’t let him get away from you.”

  “No, señor,” the man said. “You don’t want to fuck with these people in the black car.”

  “Who the hell are they?”

  The driver pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. “No, señor; it is not worth my life.”

  Cupie got out of the car, opened the driver’s door, and, with his good arm, shoved him into the passenger seat. He slammed the door, put the car in gear and spun the tires.