Santa Fe Dead

59

CUPIE AND VITTORIO stood on the fore-deck of Enticer, staring toward the shore. “Where the fuck is he?” Cupie asked.

“He’ll be here,” Vittorio said. “He promised me, and he owes me.”

“Owes you?”

“He accepted a gift: I gave him a beautiful Colt.45 the last time I saw him,” Vittorio explained. “I couldn’t cross the border with it, so I thought, what the hell, it couldn’t hurt to keep a capitán sweet.”

“You’re sure he’s coming?”

“She cut off his nephew’s dick. He’ll be here.”

“He’d better; the yacht has to be back at Marina del Rey tomorrow morning, or it will cost Eagle another five grand, and I don’t want to have to explain it to him.”

Cupie went to the bridge, where Captain Ted was lounging, letting the autopilot take them south at a leisurely eight knots.

“What’s up?” Ted asked.

Cupie grabbed the microphone of the VHF radio and tuned it to channel 16. “Capitán Rodríguez, Capitán Rodríguez, this is the yacht Enticer. Do you read?”

Static. Then a voice, very loud. “Enticer, this is Rodríguez. What is your position?”

Cupie looked up at the GPS and read off their latitude and longitude.

“That is not very far away. Are you wearing lights?”

“Yes, we are,” Cupie said. He turned to Ted. “Give me a white flare,” he said.

Ted dug into a locker and handed him the flare.

Cupie picked up the microphone again. “Watch for a bright light,” he said, then he walked back on deck, peeled the seal off the flare, struck it and held it overboard, so the phosphorous wouldn’t drip on him. The whole world lit up.

BARBARA WAS RIDING Ron Gillette as if he were a circus pony, and making a lot of noise doing it. She was suddenly reined in by a hammering on the door.

“Mr. Gillette!” a voice called out.

“Huh? Yes?” Gillette said.

“Please come on deck and bring Mrs. Keeler; the police want to inspect the yacht and see the crew’s papers. Please bring your passports!”

“Yeah, give us a couple of minutes, okay?”

Barbara sighed and rolled off Gillette. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just a routine thing,” Gillette replied. “Happens all the time; homeland security and all that. Let’s get dressed.”

They got into their clothes, and Barbara took a moment to apply lipstick. She grabbed her handbag. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“They’re going to want to see our passports,” Ron said, taking his from an inside pocket of his blazer and holding it up.

Barbara dug into her handbag and came up with her passport. “Got it.”

“Don’t worry,” Ron said. “We’ll be back in bed in ten minutes.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Barbara said, smiling.

He led her up the companionway stairs and onto the afterdeck. A brightly lit motor vessel was moored alongside Enticer, bobbing on the small waves. It was flying a Mexican flag.

“Ron,” Barbara said, “that’s a Mexican flag.” She pointed.

“Yes, it is,” he replied.

“Are we in Mexico?”

Ron looked toward shore at some lights. “I guess so.” He pointed. “That must be Tijuana over there.”

Barbara looked around, as if for a way out, but there was no escape; she’d just have to brazen it through. Then two men appeared from forward on the yacht, and she knew one of them. “Cupie? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hi, Barbara,” Cupie said cheerfully. “You remember Capitán Rodríguez, don’t you?”

Barbara stared in horror at the Mexican policeman. “No,” she said, “I don’t.”

“Well then,” Cupie said, “you remember his nephew…”

“Ernesto,” the capitán said, helpfully.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“May I see your passport, Mrs. Eagle?” Capitán Rodríguez said. “I’m sure we can straighten this out very quickly.”

“My name is Mrs. Walter Keeler,” she said, handing the capitán her passport. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

“Oh, he’s not confused, Babs,” Cupie said.

“No, señora,” the capitán replied, “I am not confused.” He removed a piece of paper from his tunic pocket and handed it to her. “I have a warrant for your arrest on three charges of attempted murder.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” she demanded.

Vittorio appeared on the afterdeck. “One,” he said, raising his hand. “Attempted murder by drowning.”

“Two,” Cupie said, raising his hand. “Attempted murder by gunshot.”

“And three,” the capitán said, “counting my nephew, who will be very happy to see you, Mrs. Eagle.”

“I tell you I am not this Eagle person!” Barbara said desperately. “My United States passport will tell you that!”

“Yes,” Cupie said, “she is.”

“Right,” echoed Vittorio.

“You are all insane!” she shouted. “Ron, do something!”

Gillette took the paper from her hand and glanced over it. “Well,” he said, “this appears to be a valid warrant. Did I mention that I’m a lawyer?”

“Well, if you’re a lawyer, do something!”

“I’m afraid I’m not licensed to practice in Mexico,” Gillette said. “I’m awfully sorry about this, Barbara, but it looks as though you’re going to have to go with this policeman.”

As if on cue, two other policemen, bearing automatic weapons, appeared behind the capitán.

“If you please, señora,” the capitán said, indicating that she should board his boat. “I hope it will not be necessary to handcuff you.” He took her by the wrist and elbow and began dragging her toward the other boat.

“This is outrageous!” Barbara shouted. “I want to speak to the American ambassador at once!”

“Unfortunately,” the capitán said, “we did not bring his excellency with us, but as soon as we reach my office you may telephone him.”

The two policemen stepped forward, lifted Barbara off her feet and handed her over the rail to two more policemen on the other boat.

The capitán gave Captain Ted a smart salute. “I think we need not detain you further, Captain,” he said. “I bid you all a good evening,” he said to the others, then, assisted by his officers, he climbed over the railing and reboarded his boat.

“Cupie!” Barbara shouted from the police boat, “call Ed Eagle! Tell him I need a lawyer!”

“Oh, don’t worry, Barbara. I’ll call Ed Eagle. You have a nice evening, now.” He waved as the police boat pulled away. “Well, Captain Ted,” he said, “if you could drop us in La Jolla, then you can be on your way back to Marina del Rey.”

“Sure, Cupie,” Ted replied.

“Oh, and may Vittorio and I have some dinner, please?”

“Of course. I’ll tell the chef.”

“I assume you’ve already eaten, Ron.”

“Yes, I have,” Gillette said, “but I’ll join you for a drink. Tell me, did that beautiful woman actually cut off somebody’s dick?”

“She certainly did,” Cupie said. “Probably more than one.” He got out his cell phone and speed-dialed Ed Eagle.

“Wow,” Gillette said, “I guess I got out lucky.”

The yacht slowly turned back toward La Jolla and her speed increased.

ED EAGLE PICKED up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Cupie.”

“What’s the news?”

“Mrs. Keeler is in custody.”

“Where?”

“In Tijuana, Mexico, though I think she will shortly be transported south, to the scene of the penilectomy. By the way, she asked me to call you, and I assured her I would.”

“Call me? Why?”

“It seems the lady needs a lawyer.”

Eagle laughed. “Well, she hasn’t lost her sense of humor,” he said. “Send me your bill, Cupie, and thank you so very much.” He hung up.

“What is it?” Susannah asked.

“It’s over,” Eagle said. “Let’s spend tomorrow in bed.”

“You talked me into it,” she said, melting into his arms.