Short Straw

Thirty-seven

EAGLE WOKE THE NEXT MORNING FEELING NEARLY HUMAN.

He showered, shaved and checked the state of his face. There was still the discolored eye, but the swelling in his face had gone down. He put antibiotic cream on his wound and applied a bandage. By the time he was dressed, he could smell bacon cooking.

"Good morning," she said as he walked into the kitchen.

"You really don't have to cook all our meals," he said.

"I've got to earn my keep somehow."

"I guess I'm going to have to take you out this evening to keep you from cooking again."

"Don't you like my cooking?"

"It's wonderful, but I don't like making you work."

They sat down and ate a big breakfast, then Eagle got out the Range Rover and drove them through Tesuque and down Tano Road.

"This route isn't as easy as it used to be," he said as he first followed a four-lane highway, then turned onto a dirt road. "They closed the entrance to Tano Road in some sort of weird traffic rerouting, so it'll take you a little longer to get home than it once did."

"I don't mind the drive," she said.

He turned onto Tano Norte. "This road used to be called County Road 85, or something like that, but the writer who built your house and Stanley Marcus, of Neiman's fame, who lived right there"- he pointed out a house as they passed-"got together and had the name of the road changed and the houses numbered."

They drove on down Tano Norte until they came to the house, where Susannah's real estate agent was waiting for them. The walkthrough went well, and Susannah made notes for minor repairs and changes she wanted done.

"I'll recommend somebody to take care of all that," Eagle said.

The walk-through completed, they drove to Eagle's office, where his associate had the paperwork arranged on the conference table in his suite. The seller's lawyer showed up, the papers were signed and money changed hands.

"Congratulations," Eagle said, "you're a Santa Fe home owner."

VITTORIO WOKE UP LATER than he had intended, had some breakfast and got dressed. He could see the Toyota in the ferry parking lot across the street, and he kept an eye on it as he dressed. His intention had been simply to go and get into the car when Cupie and Barbara did, but then he had a strange thought: Could the two of them have been in cahoots? He dismissed the idea as implausible, but he resolved to be more cautious.

He asked the hotel to provide a rental car, to be dropped off in Tijuana, and when Cupie arrived at the Toyota with their bags he was waiting across the street in a red Chevrolet.

CUPIE OPENED THE TRUNK and set his and Barbara's luggage inside, then he stopped. Vittorio's luggage had been there; now it was gone. He checked the lock on the Toyota; it was undisturbed; the trunk had not been broken into. He closed the trunk and looked carefully around him. What was going on here? The coast guard had reported not finding Vittorio's body. This was creepy.

VITTORIO DUCKED AND WAITED for Cupie to drive away, then he followed. Cupie stopped at a side entrance to a hotel, and Barbara ran from the building and dived into the rear seat of the Toyota. Cupie was still being careful. Good.

Vittorio followed at a distance as the Toyota made its way out of town, north toward Tijuana. He wasn't sure just how he was going to handle this yet, but what he really wanted was to kidnap her himself and sell her to a pimp in Tijuana. Maybe life as a sex slave in a Mexican whorehouse would be good for her.

BOB MARTINEZ SAT IN his car with a detective, across the street from the Santa Fe County Corrections Center, and watched the day's crop of released inmates leave the building.

"You know any of these guys, Pedro?" he asked the detective. "I'm looking for a man who might do a contract killing."

Pedro Alvarez watched the men through small binoculars. "I know three of them," he said. "One is a burglar, one is a car thief and the third is what you might call a jack-of-all-trades."

"What's the jack's name?"

"Harold Fuentes," Pedro replied, as he watched Fuentes get into a pickup truck with a woman. "He's your best bet."

"Then let's follow him."

"What do you expect to learn by doing that? I could just brace the guy."

"We don't have enough to charge him with anything yet. Let's just see where he goes and what he does."

Pedro started the car and followed the pickup at a distance.

"You know where he lives?" Martinez asked.

"Off Agua Fria, in a little adobe," Pedro replied.

Martinez watched as Fuentes passed Agua Fria without turning. "Harold appears to be going somewhere else," he said.

Fuentes passed the road to the interstate without turning. "There's nothing out here but a water-treatment plant and the airport," Pedro said.

"Let's see which one he chooses," Martinez replied.

Fuentes turned left toward the airport.

"You know who lives out here?" Pedro said.

"Yeah, Joe Big Bear, or at least he did before Ed Eagle so kindly blew him away for us."

Fuentes drove past the big junkyard, then turned into a road alongside it.

"Bingo," Pedro said.

"Stop here, and let's see what he does," Martinez ordered.

Pedro pulled over and looked through his binoculars. "He's trying to get into Big Bear's trailer," he said. "The woman is keeping watch. He's fiddling with the lock." He watched as Fuentes gave up on the lock, returned to the pickup for a tire iron, then jimmied the door. The woman followed him inside.

"Now we've got a charge," Martinez said. "Let's go get him."

Pedro drove down the road and turned into the trailer's driveway, then coasted to a stop. "Are you carrying?" he said to the D.A.

"You bet," Martinez said, producing a Walther.380. "Let's go."

The two men got out of the car and walked to the trailer, its door ajar. They peeked inside and saw Fuentes and the woman ransacking the place.

"Here!" the woman cried, opening the undersink cabinet. "He's got a safe."

They watched as Fuentes knelt in front of the safe, took hold of it and tried to lift it. "It's bolted down," he said, taking the tire iron to the plywood floor.

Martinez signaled Pedro to wait, and the two men watched through the door until Fuentes had the safe free of the floor. "Now," he said, stepping back and letting the detective precede him.

Pedro pushed open the door, held out his gun and yelled, "Freeze, police!"

Fuentes was lifting the safe from under the sink, and he dropped it as if it were red hot and turned around. "What?" he said. "What's going on?"

"You're under arrest for burglary, both of you," Pedro said.

"What are you talking about? My wife and me live here."

"Come on, Harold, this is Joe Big Bear's trailer."

"I rented it from him the day before yesterday," Fuentes protested. "I've got the agreement in my truck."

"You talked to Joe the day before yesterday?"

"Sure, I did. He came to see me in jail."

"Is that when you hired him to kill Ed Eagle?"

"Now, wait a minute Detective Alvarez," Harold said. "Maybe I better explain this a little better."

"Okay, Harold," Pedro said, producing handcuffs. "Let's go down to the station, and you can explain it to me and the D.A."