Santa Fe Dead

44

EAGLE PICKED UP Susannah at the hospital and drove her to her house to pick up some clothes. Her shoulder-length hair covered the bandage on the back of her head. “Are you in pain?” he asked.

“No, they gave me something for it, but I haven’t had to take it. I have a nice little bald spot on the back of my head, though.”

“Susannah, I’m so sorry I let you stay here alone.” They pulled into her driveway and went into the house.

“Ed, you don’t need to say that to me again. It’s not your fault; it’s her fault.” She walked into her bedroom and looked at the window. “Where’s the bullet hole?”

“I had the windowpane replaced.”

“Thank you, Ed, that was very thoughtful.” She filled a large suitcase with clothes and cosmetics, then a smaller case. “I think that’s it. Let’s get out of here.”

Eagle put the bags into his trunk and started the car. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until this is over,” he said.

“And when will it be over? Do you know?”

“Soon,” Eagle said.

DON WELLS CALLED Ed Eagle.

“Good morning, Don,” Eagle said.

“Ed, what’s going on with the investigation? When are they going to clear me?”

“I don’t want to ask Bob Martínez about that, Don; he’ll think we’re getting nervous, and we don’t want that. I’m sure they’re still investigating, but when their leads don’t turn up anything, they’ll drop it.”

“Will they send me a letter clearing me?”

“I think the best we can hope for is that they’ll release a statement to the press, saying that you’re no longer a suspect.”

“When?”

“Don, it might be a few days; it might be a few weeks. If I don’t hear from them in, say, a month, I’ll get somebody from the press to call and interview Martínez. That will give him an opportunity to clear you.”

“Should I proceed to probate with my wife’s will?”

“Of course. Do anything you’d normally do in the circumstances.”

“What sort of leads do you think they’re following?”

“Well, we know they’re looking for anyone you might have hired to do the job. Detective Reese has already interviewed your two stuntmen, and I’m sure he’s checked their alibis.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I know you want to be out from under this, Don, but you’re just going to have to be patient.”

“All right, Ed. Let me know if you hear anything.”

“Of course I will. Goodbye.”

EAGLE HUNG UP. He was beginning to think that Don Wells was awfully nervous for an innocent man.

ALEX REESE WAS momentarily stumped. He’d checked out all his leads; now he was waiting for a break. Then he remembered something he hadn’t checked out. He called a friend of his at the NYPD.

“Hi, Alex. How you doin’?”

“Pretty good, Ralph. Could you check something out for me on your computer?”

“Sure thing.”

“There was a street killing in Manhattan, a mugging gone wrong, some years back. I’d like to speak to the lead detective on the case.”

“What’s the victim’s name?”

Reese consulted his notes. “William John Burke.”

“Hang on.”

Reese heard the sound of computer keys tapping.

“Got it,” Ralph said. “It’s still open. The lead guy was a detective in the One-Nine named Dino Bacchetti. I know him. He’s a lieutenant now, runs the detective squad over there. Here’s his number.”

Reese wrote down the number. “Thanks, Ralph. I appreciate it.” Reese dialed the Nineteenth Precinct.

“Bacchetti,” the man said.

“Lieutenant Bacchetti, my name is Detective Alex Reese, Santa Fe, New Mexico, P.D.”

“What can I do for you, Detective?”

“You worked a homicide some years ago. Victim was one William John Burke. You remember that?”

“Yeah, I remember. I was never able to clear it. It looked like a mugging, but the guy had a rich wife, and that always interests me.”

“Do you remember the name Donald Wells, in connection with that case?”

“Yeah, I do. He was a friend of the couple-more of an acquaintance, really. He had been at a dinner party with the two of them the night before Burke was killed. I talked to him, but he had a solid alibi, and he struck me as uninvolved. Until…”

“Until what?”

“A year later-no more than that, a year and a half, maybe-I saw Mrs. Burke and Donald Wells at a restaurant together, looking very interested in each other. Not long after that, I saw in the papers that they had gotten married.”

“Did you interview him again?”

“No. I went over my notes, and, like I said, he had a solid alibi. He was at some sort of awards ceremony at a table of eight. I couldn’t find any substantive reason to talk to him again.”

“Did he seem like the kind of guy who might have the connections to hire somebody to mug or murder Burke?”

“I thought of that at the time, but no, he didn’t seem like that kind of guy, and none of his acquaintances I talked to thought so, either. They were a pretty straight crowd. But you never know, do you? There might be somebody in anybody’s past who would commit murder for enough money.”

“That’s right. You never know.”

“You looking at Wells for something else?”

“Yeah, somebody murdered his wife and stepson.”

“The same one? The rich one?”

“Same one.”

“Ahhhhh,” Bacchetti breathed. “Now, that’s interesting.”

“And this time I’ve found a possible hit man-two of them, in fact.”

“Would you do me a favor and find out how long he’s known these two guys?” Bacchetti asked.

“Not long enough to go back to your case. They’re both stuntmen at Centurion Studios, and, as far as I can tell, he hasn’t known them for more than four years.”

“Tell you what, Alex. I’ll put a couple of men on the Burke homicide. You never know what they might come up with.”

“Thanks a lot, Dino.” Reese hung up wishing he had some way to help Bacchetti tie Wells to the Burke killing, too.