Santa Fe Rules
Page 27
“I’m puzzled,” Wolf said. “Does Monica have a flower tattoo like yours and Barbara’s?”
“Yes, she does,” Julia said. “For some months, now; Monica loves me so, but she is incredibly stupid.”
“I’m sorry, Julia,” Monica said. “I was only trying to help.”
Julia turned and looked at the blond. “Monica, I told you to shut up.” Julia raised Wolf’s pistol and casually fired a shot into the woman’s chest. Monica flew backward and disappeared behind the sofa.
Now it became very quiet in the room.
Eagle spoke first. “You’re not planning to leave anybody alive here, are you, Julia?”
“That’s right, Mr. Eagle, except for my little sister; she’s coming with me. But there’s something I want to know first. Where’s the money? It isn’t in the Cayman account, and they wouldn’t tell me where it had gone.”
“It’s back where it belongs, Julia,” Eagle said. “You waited too long to run.”
Julia glared at the lawyer. “I guess you had something to do with that, huh?”
“It was my pleasure,” Eagle said.
She turned to Wolf. “Listen to me, Wolf. You’re very relaxed, and you want to go to sleep now. Very relaxed; just let your head fall. That’s it, just go to sleep.”
Wolf didn’t try to fight it; sleep began to swim up at him. He fell down a deep well.
Eagle tried to move, but couldn’t. Since Julia had shot Monica Collins, he had been very frightened, but he remained perfectly calm. It must be the effect of the drug, he thought. Still, his mind was clear.
Julia smiled. “Now Eagle goes. Then poor Wolf, terribly upset at what he’s done, puts one in his brain. A neat murder-suicide, don’t you think? And I don’t even have to wait around for him to be tried. I think the authorities will buy it, since Wolf already has an undeserved reputation for blowing people away. I go public, explain to the police that I’ve been hiding because I was afraid Wolf would try to kill me, and suddenly I’m a rich widow. Wherever the money is, it’s mine, and so are this house and the one in Bel Air and all the rights to Wolf’s and Jack’s films. Pretty neat, huh?”
Eagle waited with interest for Barbara’s reply.
“I need a cigarette,” Barbara said, reaching for her handbag. She rummaged around inside.
“After that,” Julia said to Barbara, “it’s you and me, babe. We can go anywhere we like.” She stood up and pointed the pistol at Eagle.
“Julia,” Barbara said.
Julia stopped and looked at her.
“Do you really think that I would sit here and watch you kill everybody, then just follow you off into the sunset? I wouldn’t go to the toilet with you.”
Eagle liked that answer.
“Well, sweetie,” Julia said, swinging the gun around to point at Barbara, “I’m sorry you feel that way, but this is the only alternative.”
“Wrong,” Barbara said, her hand still in the pocketbook. The handbag exploded, and Julia flew backward into the big leather chair, which skidded a few feet, then came to rest against the paneling. The middle of her chest was a mess.
“Close work,” Eagle said admiringly. “That little short-barreled thing is good for close work. I sure am glad I didn’t take it away from you.”
Barbara removed the smoking revolver from her handbag and placed it on the coffee table, then fell back in her chair, her hands over her face. “Please tell me there was nothing else I could do,” she said.
Eagle still could not make his body move, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Julia, either. Julia still held the pistol, and Eagle watched with rapt attention as she began to raise it again. “Barbara,” he said.
“Ed, please give me a minute,” she replied her face still in her hands. “I’ve just killed my sister.”
“Not quite,” Eagle replied. Julia had the pistol up now and pointed at Barbara. “Please shoot her again,” Eagle said, with all the urgency he could muster.
Barbara took her hands away from her face as Julia fired. The chair next to Barbara’s head exploded, and she jumped a foot.
Julia’s pistol clattered onto the hearth. She looked at Eagle with something like hatred, then her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Never mind,” Eagle said.
Barbara sat trembling in her chair for a moment. “Ed,” she said finally, “you’re stoned out of your mind, aren’t you?”
“I believe I am,” Eagle agreed. “Aren’t you?”
“No.” She sighed. “Julia said she spiked every bottle, but she didn’t get to the Stolichnaya in the refrigerator.”
“Oh,” Eagle said.
Wolf woke up on the sofa in the study, feeling a little fuzzy, but refreshed. There was a murmur of voices in the house. He sat up and looked over the back of the sofa. There was a lump of some sort on the floor with a sheet over it. He got his feet on the floor, then tried to stand up, but he didn’t make it the first time; he simply wobbled and sat down heavily again.
From the sitting position, he could see another lump in the chair next to him, again with a sheet covering it. There was a puddle of blood on the hearth next to the chair. The night began to come back to him.
“Wolf?” Eagle’s voice came from the doorway.
Wolf turned and looked at him. “What happened?” he asked.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
Wolf thought. “I remember Julia. And we were laughing a lot. I can’t remember why. I must have dreamed Julia.”
Eagle came and sat down next to him. “It wasn’t a dream,” he said. “More of a nightmare.”
Wolf nodded at the chair. “Is that Julia?”
“Yes,” Eagle replied.
“Who’s the other one?” Wolf asked.
“Monica Collins. She had been hiding Julia since the killings. She’s the one who tried to have you killed.”
Wolf nodded. He felt much as he had the morning after the first killings, but more lighthearted, somehow. “Why am I so happy?” he asked.
“The drug, partly,” Eagle said. “I’m pretty happy myself; but I think it’s more than that.”
“It’s over, isn’t it?”
“It’s over, Wolf.”
Wolf began to cry.
Eagle put his arms around Wolf and held him.
It was very late before Eagle got back to his house with Barbara. At the front door, he picked her up and carried her across the threshold, then kissed her.
“Now what was that all about?” she asked, her arms around his neck.
“Fella does that in Santa Fe, girl has to marry him; that’s Santa Fe Rules.”
Barbara frowned. “Mama said she would come back to haunt me if I ever married a man who wasn’t Jewish.”
Eagle kissed her again. “Boy, have I got news for you,” he said.
EPILOGUE
Jane Deering sat in the car and watched the entrance to the executive offices of Centurion Studios.
Sara squirmed in the backseat. “What’s taking Wolf so long, Mom? He’s been in there over an hour.” Flaps was asleep, her head in the little girl’s lap.
“It’s business, honey; important business.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s about making a movie. Wolf has to convince some people that he can direct a movie.”
“But Wolf makes movies all the time, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, but he’s always been the producer, remember? You know the difference between a producer and a director, don’t you?”
“Sure. You think I’m dumb or something?”
“Well, this is the first time that Wolf has wanted to direct, and he has to get these people to give him the money to make the movie.”
“Oh.” Sara poked her mother in the back. “Here he comes,” she said.
Jane looked up to see Wolf coming down the front steps. He wasn’t smiling.
Wolf got into the car. “I’m sorry to keep you both waiting so long,” he said. “I had a pretty tough meeting.�
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“What happened?” Jane demanded. “Are they going to finance the deal?”
“Maybe,” Wolf said, “but there’s an important condition.”
“What is it? Is it something you can’t live with?”
“Apparently they don’t trust me to shoot this on my own; they’re insisting I take on a partner.”
“Well, is it somebody you hate?”
“No, I get to pick the partner.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You want to make this picture with me? You want to be my partner?”
Jane flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, you bet I do!” she yelled.
“Then there’s no problem,” Wolf said. “No problem at all.”
Flaps lifted her head and grinned at everybody.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank Brian Dennehy for suggesting the title of this book, and, for (sometimes inadvertently) assisting with the research, Steven and Barbara Bochco, Judy Tabb, Pitts Carr, Mark and Winanne Sutherland, Ted and Barbara Flicker, Bob and Pat Eggers, Doug Preston and Christine and Selene Gibbons, John Ehrlichman and Christie Peacock, Marcia Stamell, Ellen Windham, Landt and Lisl Dennis, Pat and Michael French, Ed Zuckerman, Bettina and Sandy Milliken, Sharon and Bob Woods, Jennifer Dennehy, and Melody Miller.
I am, once again, grateful to my editor, Ed Breslin, my publisher, Bill Shinker, my London publisher, Eddie Bell, and all their colleagues at HarperCollins for their hard work on this book.
I want to express my particular gratitude to my agent, Morton Janklow, his top associate, Anne Sibbald, and to all the people at Janklow & Nesbit for their continued enthusiasm and support over the past ten years.
Finally, I must apologize to the Irish veterinarian Wilf Woollett for once again mangling his name.
About the Author
STUART WOODS is the author of more than fifteen novels, including Chiefs, Grass Roots, Santa Fe Rules, L.A. Times, Dead Eyes, Heat, New York Dead, Imperfect Strangers, Choke, Dirt, Dead in the Water, Swimming to Catalina, Deep Lie, and Orchid Beach. He lives in Litchfield County, Connecticut, and Vero Beach, Florida.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Praise
RAVES FOR SANTA FE RULES
“A whirlwind story with a plot that twists more than Chubby Checker. Even the veteran mystery reader will be dazzled…. Santa Fe Rules is a delight.”
—L.A. Life
“Long on heart-stopping suspense…. The plot has more twists than the Grand Canyon.”
—Palm Beach Post
“Slam-bang action…Woods weaves an intricate web of intrigue and deceit in this his ninth mystery novel.”
—Bookpage
“With its mysterious homicide, spunky characters…and steamy sexuality, Santa Fe Rules is thoroughly entertaining.”
—Santa Fe New Mexican
“Distinctly readable—told with speed and glamorous flourishes.”
—Chicago Tribune
“Guaranteed to keep you guessing.”
—Detroit Free Press
“Whether you are a mystery fan or not, this book will keep you reading until you’ve finished—no matter the hour…it undoubtedly is headed for the top rung of the bestseller lists.”
—Richmond-Times Dispatch
“Santa Fe Rules is a mystery fan’s guilty pleasure…you just keep turning the page.”
—Blade-Citizen Preview
“The writing is slick…impossible to stop reading.”
—Boston Sunday Herald
“Santa Fe Rules could be the basis of a sizzling movie script. Woods takes you through a wonderful, dark maze of dicey characters and subplots…a must read for thriller fans.”
—Plain Dealer
“Santa Fe Rules…is confident, often quite funny, and works very effectively.”
—Boston Globe
“A breakneck pace and a tight plot with several good twists, including a truly magical one close to the end.”
—Booklist
Books by
Stuart Woods
CHIEFS
CHOKE
DEAD EYES
DEAD IN THE WATER
DEEP LIE
DIRT
GRASS ROOTS
HEAT
IMPERFECT STRANGERS
L. A. TIMES
NEW YORK DEAD
ORCHID BEACH
PALINDROME
RUN BEFORE THE WIND
THE RUN
SANTA FE RULES
SWIMMING TO CATALINA
UNDER THE LAKE
WHITE CARGO
WORST FEARS REALIZED
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SANTA FE RULES. Copyright © 1992 by Stuart Woods. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © NOVEMBER 2007 ISBN: 9780061827327
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