by Stuart Woods
Joe peeped inside. “I’m going to count it later,” he said. “If it isn’t all there, Harold is going to get hurt today. So are you.”
She started the truck, backed out of the parking space and drove away.
Joe went back to his truck, got in and counted the money. It was all there. “Jesus,” he said aloud, “why didn’t I go into this line of work sooner?”
BARBARA PUT DOWN her cell phone and turned to Vittorio. “How long are we staying here?”
“I figure one more night, just to let things cool off.”
“I have to go to a bank or a Western Union office today.”
“Are you nuts?”
“My sister has an emergency, and she needs money. Don’t argue with me, Vittorio; it has to be done.”
VITTORIO DROVE HER into town, parked in front of a bank, checked the street in every direction and waved her inside. Half an hour later, she was back.
“Everything go okay?” he asked.
“Perfectly,” she said.
“Then why do you look so nervous? I never saw you look nervous before.”
“Shut up and drive,” she said.
Thirty
EAGLE DIALED SUSANNAH’S CELL PHONE NUMBER.
“Well, hi there,” she said.
“Are you moved in yet?”
“In a manner of speaking,” she replied. “I mean, the boxes have all been dumped here; now they’re unpacking them.”
“I’m glad you’ve got help,” he said.
“I’ve got four guys here, working like beavers. If I can keep them from breaking the crystal, I’ll have this place in shape by dinnertime.”
“I wish I were there to cook for you.”
“You cook?”
“When you’re a bachelor for as long as I was, it’s a survival skill. When are you coming back? I hope you’re not waiting until the closing.”
“Well, I was going to, but once this place is livable I don’t really have anything to occupy me here, until I get some work.”
“Come here, and I’ll occupy you. In fact, I’ll see if I can’t get the closing brought forward. I know that the owner has already moved out. And I have a comfortable guest suite, and I’d be very pleased if you’d stay at my house until the closing.”
“That would be very nice. See what you can do about the closing, and I’ll go ahead and have my furniture shipped.”
“Do you have enough to fill the house?”
“No, not with splitting my things between two places.”
“I’ll give you a list of all the best shops.”
“I’m going to need a housekeeper and a secretary, too.”
“I’ll put my secretary on that right away.”
“You’re a doll, Ed Eagle.”
“I hope you’ll still think so a year from now.”
“Why a year?”
“I reckon that’s how long it will take you to find out.”
“We’ll see. I’ve gotta run. Somebody just dropped a Baccarat goblet.”
Eagle hung up feeling like a new man, but then it occurred to him that he hadn’t received the FedEx package from Vittorio. He called the Apache’s cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Vittorio? It’s Ed Eagle.”
“Good morning, Mr. Eagle.”
“Why haven’t I received the FedEx package from you?”
“I was planning to send it from the airport yesterday, but I got held up. It’ll go out today, I promise.”
“Everything all right?”
“Couldn’t be better,” Vittorio replied.
“Give my best to Cupie.”
“Will do.” He hung up.
Eagle wasn’t going to feel comfortable until he had those blank pages in hand.
JOE BIG BEAR SAT outside the Western Union office, reading a paperback novel, a western. He glanced up at the storefront, watching the clerk inside for some sign that he had received the wire. Nothing. He looked at his watch: eleven-forty. She wasn’t going to send it.
Oh, well, he thought, I’ll just have to get by with the twelve-five from Harold. At that moment, the clerk left his counter, went to the front door and waved Joe inside. His heart leapt, and he hurried into the office.
“Your wire is in,” the man said. “How do you want the money?”
“In cash.”
“You sure you don’t want a cashier’s check? It’s safer.”
“Nah, I’ve gotta pay for a car in cash.”
“Give me a minute,” the man said. “I’ll have to see if we’ve got that much.” He disappeared into a back room.
Joe took a chair, picked up a magazine and tried to be cool.
Five minutes later, the clerk returned with a large brown envelope. “I don’t have it all in hundreds,” he said, “so I had to give you a lot of fifties and twenties.”
“No problem,” Joe said.
The man handed him the envelope. “Count it, please.”
Joe riffled through each stack of bills, counting quickly. “It’s all here,” he said.
“Sign right here, Mr. Grande,” the clerk said, offering him a pen. “Pepe Oso Grande,” the clerk mused. “Doesn’t that mean Joseph Big Bear in English?”
“Something like that,” Joe replied. He signed the document, took his money and walked out. Back in the car, he didn’t trust himself to drive for a moment. His heart was pounding, he was breathing rapidly, and he was sweating.
“Thirty-seven thousand, five hundred dollars,” he said aloud, mopping his brow. He’d never had more than two thousand dollars at once in his life. He took some deep breaths and started the car. He had no idea where to go, so he just wandered slowly in the direction of home. What would he do with all this money? He hadn’t allowed himself to think about that until now.
“Buy a safe,” he said aloud. He turned into Sam’s Club, stuffed the cash under his seat and locked the pickup. He was back in twenty minutes with a heavy, cardboard box on a dolly. With the help of a clerk, he muscled it into the pickup and unlocked the cab, checking to see that the money was still under the seat.
He drove back to his trailer, got his toolbox and bolted the safe to the floor under a kitchen cabinet. Then he set the combination into the electronic lock and practiced opening it a few times. Satisfied, he took the money out of its envelope and placed it on a shelf in the safe, along with the twelve-five from Harold, then he closed and locked the safe and got a beer from the fridge.
He sat, sipping it, thinking about what he could do with thirty-seven thousand, five hundred dollars. It was all his, and he didn’t have to do a fucking thing for it. The woman didn’t know who she’d wired the money to.
Then the beer went sour in his mouth. Harold knew who he was, and he had promised to find and kill him if Eagle wasn’t dead before he got out of jail.
Joe swallowed hard. It was the first time it had occurred to him that he was really going to have to kill Ed Eagle. And he was probably going to have to kill Harold, too, when he got out. And his wife; she knew his name, too.
Thirty-one
BARBARA WOKE UP BEFORE DAWN. VITTORIO WAS SLEEPING soundly beside her. She picked up her handbag, then walked to where Vittorio’s bag stood open and felt inside, coming up with the Federal Express envelope. She took it into the bathroom, locked the door and turned on the light.
It was just an ordinary FedEx shipping envelope; he hadn’t affixed the label, yet. She pulled the tab that opened it and removed the signed blank sheets of paper inside. Then she opened her large handbag and took out the FedEx envelope and blank paper she had gotten from the bank. She stuffed the blank sheets inside, sealed it, then put the old envelope and the signed sheets into her handbag. Then she switched off the light, unlocked the door and tiptoed to Vittorio’s bag. She put the FedEx envelope containing the blank sheets into the bag, then crept back into bed.
“What?” Vittorio said.
“Nothing,” she said. “I just went to the bathroom.”
He reached f
or her, and she melted into his arms, feeling for his crotch. Gotta keep him sweet, she thought, and she ducked under the covers, giving herself to the enterprise.
WHEN SHE WAS DONE, she nestled in his arms.
“That was wonderful,” he said.
“You know what would be wonderful?”
“What?”
“If we could just stay down here.”
“In Mexico?”
“Yes. I like it down here, and you can live dirt cheap.”
“Your three hundred grand wouldn’t last all that long.”
“I’ve got more coming,” she said. “A lot more.”
“From where?”
“From Ed,” she said.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” he said.
“It’ll happen, if you don’t FedEx him those signed sheets.”
“That wouldn’t work,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Cupie.”
“What about him?”
“He wouldn’t sit still for that.”
“So, don’t tell him. We can just send him on his way.”
“But when Eagle doesn’t get the signatures, he’ll put Cupie on us. Cupie is very smart; he’d find us again.”
She wondered if she could talk him into killing Cupie. Probably not. “I guess you’re right,” she said. She turned over, putting her back to him. He reached for her ass, but she removed his hand.
“Look, baby,” he said, “I took the man’s money; I have to finish the job.”
“You took my money, too.”
“And I’m going to finish that job. I’ll get you back to the States.”
She said nothing.
“And then there’s the Mexican police: they’re still looking for you.”
He had a point. She couldn’t stay in Mexico. But if he sent Ed those blank sheets, the hunt would be on again, at least until this guy Pepe did the job. If he did the job. There were too many loose ends to this; she was going to have to think of a way to tie some of them up. When Eagle was dead, then she’d have everything she needed.
What she had to do now was buy time, until Pepe did his work. If Eagle died without a signed settlement agreement, she’d get his estate and the life insurance. That was the best way.
CUPIE PUT HIS BAG in the trunk of the Toyota, then leaned against it, gazing out across the Pacific. Something was wrong, he figured, maybe a lot. First, he had to get straight with Vittorio, then they could discuss the rest.
Vittorio came out of the casita, carrying his and Barbara’s luggage, and put it into the trunk.
“We’ve gotta talk,” Cupie said.
“I’m listening,” Vittorio replied.
“Your new, ah, relationship with the lady is screwing up this job.”
“How?”
“She’s gonna try to talk you out of going through with it, and I’ll be left with an angry client.”
“She’s not going to talk me into anything,” Vittorio replied. “I’m getting laid; I’m enjoying it. All I have to do to complete the job is to FedEx Eagle those signatures, then get the lady to the U.S. Eagle will be happy, and she’ll be happy, then we can all say bye-bye.”
“Has she asked you yet not to send Eagle the signatures?”
“Of course, but I’m going to anyway. I’ll find a shipping office in Mazatlán and FedEx them from there. That will take care of our client, Ed Eagle, then all we’ll have to do is take care of our client, Barbara Eagle.”
“You’re sure you’re on board for this?”
“I’m on board, Cupie. Besides, I wouldn’t want you dogging my ass.”
“Then there’s something else we have to talk about,” Cupie said.
“Shoot.”
Barbara came out of the casita and headed for the car.
“We’ll talk later,” Cupie said.
“Okay.”
They got into the car, and Vittorio started the engine.
Cupie was looking at the map. “I got an idea,” he said.
“What’s that?” Vittorio asked.
Cupie pointed at the map. “You see this dotted line that runs from Mazatlán over to La Paz, in Baja, California?”
“Yes.”
“That means there’s a ferry. Instead of driving straight up the road to Tijuana, why don’t we take the ferry and drive up the Baja peninsula. It won’t take much longer, and the policía won’t be expecting it.”
“I like it, Cupie; good thinking.” Vittorio turned and looked at Barbara in the back seat. “You okay with that?”
“Good idea,” she said. Barbara thought it was a really good idea, but not for the reason Cupie and Vittorio did.
Thirty-two
JOE BIG BEAR SAT IN HIS PICKUP A HUNDRED YARDS UP THE mountain from Ed Eagle’s driveway. He checked his watch again: eight o’clock. As if a button had been pushed, Eagle’s Mercedes came out of the driveway and turned downhill toward Tesuque. Joe did not follow; there was no point. There was just the one road.
He waited until the car had disappeared down the road, then he started the pickup and drove slowly down the hill. Halfway to the village, he went round a bend, then pulled over at a wide place on the shoulder and got out. This was good, he thought. Eagle would come around the bend and see the truck there with the hood up. Joe would step out and flag him down, as if he needed help. Eagle would recognize him and stop, roll down the passenger window. Joe would put both barrels into him, get back in his pickup and drive away.
He waited in the spot for another half hour, and no one drove by. No commuters at this time of day, except Eagle. Good.
ED EAGLE WALKED into his office at 8:30 A.M. and called the agent representing the seller of Susannah’s new house. Within a few minutes he had moved up the closing a week. He called Susannah.
“Hello?”
“Good morning. How did the unpacking go?”
“Very well, thanks, and I got a good night’s sleep. By the end of the day it’s going to look like I’ve always lived here.”
“Good. I moved up the closing to this Friday. That okay with you?”
“Sounds great.”
“Can you fly here tomorrow?”
“I can. I think I might even be able to wangle a seat on the Centurion Jet. Rick Barron has a place in Santa Fe, and he goes every weekend.”
“Let me know, and I’ll meet you at the airport.”
“Great, because I don’t have a car in Santa Fe, yet. I’ll have to buy one.”
“I’ll take you car shopping.”
“That would be very nice.”
“And I’ll cook you dinner tomorrow night.”
“That would be wonderful. You sure you don’t mind putting me up until Friday?”
“Longer, if you can’t get your furniture here by then.”
“I’ve already told them to ship it. I’ll call and see when I can expect it to arrive.”
“Call me from the airplane and let me know your ETA tomorrow.” He gave her his cell phone number.
“Will do. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“And I you.” Eagle hung up feeling just wonderful.
THEY DROVE INTO MAZATLÁN and followed the signs toward the ferry. Vittorio pointed ahead. “There’s a pack-and-ship place,” he said, pulling into a parking place. “I’ll be right back.” He got out of the car.
Barbara, lying in the rear seat, lifted her head and watched him go, the FedEx envelope in his hand. Less than ten minutes later, he returned empty-handed. She was very disappointed with him. When Ed got the envelope with the blank pages, he’d be on the phone to Vittorio, and there would be hell to pay.
She lay back down and thought about her plan. It wasn’t foolproof; she’d have to get lucky. On the other hand, she’d always been able to make her luck, one way or another.
HALF AN HOUR LATER they rolled onto the car ferry. Barbara stole a look around as they drove on. It wasn’t very big: half a dozen vehicles and some foot traffic.
“B
arbara,” Cupie said, “you’re going to have to stay where you are; we can’t take any chances. There’s a snack bar one deck up. Can I bring you anything?”
“No,” she replied. “I’m going to take a nap. How long is the ferry ride?”
“An hour and a half,” Cupie replied. “Vittorio, you want a sandwich?”
“No, I’m going to the top deck, I think. I like to be as far from the water as possible on boats like this.”
“Suit yourself.” The two men got out of the car.
Barbara thought back to their first dip in the Pacific the day before. Vittorio had refused to go into the water more than waist deep. Vittorio couldn’t swim.
HAROLD FUENTES SAT in the dining hall of the Santa Fe County Correctional Center and ate his Jell-O. It wasn’t going down very well. This Joe Big Bear had pissed him off. Big Bear had taken twelve thousand, five hundred dollars of Harold’s money and insulted him in the process. The man had no respect, and Harold was very big on respect.
Harold had already decided to kill Big Bear as soon as he got out. He knew where the guy lived, in that trailer next to the junkyard on the road to the airport, so it wouldn’t be all that hard. When it was done he’d ransack the trailer and find the money, get it all back. But as he thought some more about it, he didn’t relish doing the actual deed. After all, Big Bear had weapons of his own, and he might be a light sleeper. Then Harold smiled to himself. Maybe there was a better way.
He finished his lunch, then went and stood in line at the bank of pay phones outside the dining hall, fingering the quarters in his pocket. He’d show the son of a bitch, then he’d get his money back.
WHEN EAGLE GOT BACK from lunch, Betty followed him into his office and closed the door.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“You had a phone call a few minutes ago,” she said.
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but the caller I.D. said it came from the county jail.”
“We got any clients in there right now?”
“This wasn’t from a client; it was about a client.”
“Who?”
“The caller said that your client, Joe Big Bear, is going to try to kill you, so to watch your ass.”
Eagle sat down. “Why would Joe want to kill me?” he asked. “I mean, I just got him off a triple-murder rap.”
“The caller didn’t say why; he just said that Big Bear was going to try and kill you.”
