Short Straw

Fifty-three

BARBARA FOLLOWED JIMMY THROUGH THE LIVING ROOM of his house to the kitchen, where he snagged a bottle of Dom Perignon from the fridge and two champagne flutes from a cupboard, before continuing upstairs to his bedroom.

"Your wife isn't in town, I take it," Barbara said.

"She left five weeks ago," Jimmy replied, slipping out of his pants. "I wish she'd come and get the rest of her clothes," he said, nodding at a closet. "I could use the space for mine."

Barbara matched his speed at undressing. She pulled him on top of her and let him find his way inside her. Jimmy had always been an athletic lover, but he was a little out of shape these days, and she wanted him tired, so she let him do all the work, while she uttered encouraging words and noises.

An hour later, Jimmy had been rendered helpless. Barbara decided to nap for a while; she didn't want to make her move until much later.

Eagle and Susannah were locked in each other's arms until exhaustion came, then she went to the bathroom and returned to find him fast asleep. An orgasm, she remembered, rendered a man unconscious.

BARBARA WOKE FROM HER NAP and discovered from the bedside clock that she had slept until nearly three in the morning. She checked on Jimmy and found him snoring happily. He had always been a sound sleeper, she reflected.

She rose from the bed and went to Jimmy's wife's closet. From a large selection, she chose a dark dress, a black silk scarf and a pair of sneakers. The shoes were a little too large, but she could manage.

She dressed, wrapped her head in the black scarf, completely covering her hair, and quietly left the room, taking her large handbag with her. Outside, she got into her little SLK and, without closing the door, put the transmission in neutral and let the car roll down the driveway and out the gates. Once in the street, she closed the door, started the engine and headed for Sunset Boulevard.

Ten minutes later she drove past the main exit of the Bel-Air parking lot, where she got a good look at the lone parking attendant, sitting in a chair, leaning against the attendants' shed, dozing, then on, past the entrance to the lot, and to a driveway, which, at this hour, she knew from experience, would be unattended. She switched off her headlights.

This drive led to a couple of smaller parking lots where guests could park near their rooms without having to take the longer walk through the hotel lobby. She knew where Eagle always parked, and she put her car there.

Before leaving the car she took the little.380 Colt from her bag and found the silencer, screwing it into place. She checked to be sure there was a round in the chamber, then she put the weapon back into her handbag and got out of the car, stopping to listen for footsteps before continuing.

The silence was broken only by a chirping insect nearby. She walked lightly down a footpath toward the courtyard where Eagle's favorite suite was, and when she found the gate to the courtyard, she pulled herself up so that she could see over. All the lights were out inside.

She walked around the building to the rear of the suite and found the fence that enclosed the patio off the bedroom. A nearby garbage can would do for a stool she could stand on to survey the inside. The doors from the bedroom to the patio were wide open, and she could see the foot of the bed, by the light of an outdoor lamp over the path behind her.

She set her bag on the ground beside the garbage can and took out the small, silenced pistol, sticking it into the belt of her borrowed dress, then, with one last look around for company, she climbed onto the garbage can, hiked up her skirt and threw a leg over the fence. She dropped lightly to the stone patio. She didn't much care if he came outside to meet her; it would just make things simpler.

She stopped and listened for a moment but heard no noise, no rustling sheets. Satisfied that all was quiet, she tiptoed to the French doors and looked inside. She could see the shapes of two people in bed, Eagle with his dark head and the actress with her yellow hair. She took another step inside.

Neither moved. She raised the pistol and fired two shots into Eagle's head, then, as the woman woke to the small sounds, two more rounds into her.

Done.

She went back to the fence, moved a patio chair, stood on it and looked around. No person, no sound but the chirping insect. She threw a leg over the fence, found the garbage can and let herself down. She replaced the can where she had found it, took a handkerchief from her bag and wiped the can and the top of the fence clean of any fingerprints, then she dropped the pistol into her bag and began making her way toward where she had parked her car.

She was about to step from a short tunnel into the lot when she heard a noise, and headlights flashed, as a car pulled into the lot. She turned and ran lightly out of the tunnel and stood behind a small tree, trying not to breathe audibly.

She heard car doors slam, and a moment later, a couple, holding hands and laughing, came out of the tunnel and turned up a path toward another building.

Barbara paused to hear their door close, then she made her way through the tunnel and back to her car. She waited until she had driven out to Stone Canyon Road and passed the Bel-Air parking lot before turning on her headlights.

She saw no cars before reaching Sunset, and only two or three before she made it back to Camden. She turned up Jimmy's driveway and parked her car as before, making as little noise as possible.

She let herself into the house and undressed at the foot of the stairs, before tiptoeing back to the master bedroom. Quietly, she put away the borrowed clothes, then eased back into bed. Jimmy still slept soundly.

She woke him in the most pleasant possible way, with her lips and tongue on his penis. She wanted him to remember that they had made love in the middle of the night.

As she mounted him she caught sight of the bedside clock. She had been out of the house for a little less than half an hour. Now, using all her charms, she began establishing her alibi in a way he could never forget.

When they were done, he glanced at the bedside clock. "God, it's four-thirty" he said. "And I've got to work tomorrow."

"Hush, baby, and go to sleep," Barbara said, rubbing the back of his neck. Good boy, Jimmy, she said to herself.