Short Straw

Fifty-five

EAGLE WALKED QUICKLY ALONGSIDE VlTTORIO TOWARD his suite. Vittorio had been right: he had been in denial. He had underestimated Barbara at every turn, but now she had gone too far. The police could take it from here.

Vittorio stopped as they were entering the large courtyard with the fountain. "You don't need me for this," he said. "And I have something else to do. I'll check with you later."

Eagle nodded and continued toward the gate guarded by two policemen. "Good morning," he said to them. "My name is Ed Eagle, I'm an attorney, and I occupy the suite next door to your crime scene. Please tell the investigating officer in charge that I wish to speak with him, that I have information that may be helpful."

"Just a minute," one of the officers said. He went inside for a moment, then returned. "Please go in, Mr. Eagle, and ask for Lieutenant Charles Vickers. And don't touch anything."

Eagle thanked the man and entered the suite. He recognized Vickers immediately as a detective who had testified in a case he had tried in Los Angeles some years before.

Vickers came over and shook his hand. "Morning, Mr. Eagle. What brings you to see us?"

"I think we'd better sit down, Lieutenant; I have a lot to tell you, including, I believe, the name and location of your perpetrator."

The lieutenant led him to a chair in the suite's living room. "All right, let's hear it." He produced a notebook.

"I have reason to believe that your perp is my ex… my estranged wife. She's traveling under the name of Barbara Wood-field." Eagle gave the detective a summary of her background, her prison record and her absconding with his money, while Vickers took rapid notes in shorthand. "I believe she's staying at Chateau Sunset."

VITTORIO PARKED IN FRONT of Chateau Sunset and walked into the lobby to the front desk. He flashed a wallet that contained his California carry license and an LAPD badge he had bought from a badge catalogue years before, which bore the rank of sergeant and the number 714. It was Joe Friday's Dragnet badge, but nobody ever noticed. "I need to speak with your guest Barbara Woodfield," he said. "Just give me her room number and don't call her."

"I'm afraid Ms. Woodfield checked out a couple of hours ago," the desk clerk said.

"Do you have a forwarding address?"

"No, and she didn't say anything about her destination."

"How was she traveling?"

"Well, she turned in her rental car, and someone picked her up."

"A limo service?"

"No, I believe it was a gentleman in a BMW, black. Seemed to be a private car. She got into the front seat."

"Has her suite been cleaned yet?"

The man consulted his computer. "No."

"Then I'd like to see it, and keep the maid out until I'm done."

"Of course, Sergeant." The clerk gave him the room number and a key card.

Vittorio went upstairs and opened the door to the suite. It was a mess, with empty shopping bags from Rodeo Drive shops and wrapping paper everywhere. He went over the place quickly, looking for anything that might give him a clue to her destination, looking particularly for hotel notepads that might contain airline flight information or other information. There was nothing.

He returned to the front desk and gave the clerk the key card. "Thank you," he said. "There'll be other officers here soon." He returned to his car.

BARBARA GOT OUT of the BMW, and a bellman took her bags. "Jimmy, you're a sweetheart to drive me," she said, giving him a kiss.

"Glad to do it, sweetie. As I said, I have business down here anyway. I'll pick you up at seven for dinner; you're going to love this place. And I won't mind at all if you wear that red suit again."

"Maybe I will, baby. See you then," she said, closing the car door.

EAGLE FINISHED GIVING his account of Barbara's activities and watched as Vickers issued a stream of orders to his colleagues. He tried to relax. This was all going to be over soon, though he would, no doubt, have to testify at her trial. The police would have her in custody within minutes, and she wasn't going to get bail from any judge in his right mind.

Vickers came back to where Eagle was sitting. "I want to thank you Mr. Eagle," he said. "The victims were a man named Ippolito and his girlfriend, from New York. He had serious Mafia connections, and without your help, we would have been chasing mob leads all over the place, wasting our time. And I'm glad Ms. Woodfield didn't find you."

"So am I, Lieutenant." Eagle gave the man his card. "Let me know if you need me again. I'll be here for another night, then I'm headed back to Santa Fe." He put Vickers's card into his pocket and went back to his own suite.

Vittorio was back at his own suite, wondering what his next move should be, when his cell phone rang.

"Yes?"

"Vittorio?" A woman's voice.

"Yes."

"It's Birgit, here."

He smiled. "Hello, Birgit, how are you?"

"The question is being, how are you? Any infection?"

"No, you did a great job; I'm healing well."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in L.A."

"Coming back this way any time soon?"

"I don't think so, Birgit."

"Maybe I can persuade?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, guess who I am just giving massage?"

"Beats me."

"Your friend, Barbara."

Vittorio's heart leapt. "She's back at La Reserve?"

"In the Pine Cottage, like before, and with lots of new clothes."

"Sweetheart, I'll be in La Jolla as soon as I can."

"You won't find her here tonight, though."

"Why not?"

"Well, she's going out to dinner; she asked me about the restaurant."

Vittorio looked at his watch. It was after one o'clock. "Birgit, I'm going to drive down there right now. I'll call you when I arrive."

"Okay, I'm looking forward to change your bandage."

"Oh, will you book me a room there? It will save me time."

"Sure, I talk to desk. Bye-bye."

"Use the fake name, remember?" Vittorio grabbed his bags and ran for his car.

TWO HOURS LATER, Vittorio was still stalled in a monumental traffic jam on the interstate, south of L.A., and the only way out was to get out of the car and jump over the railing to the ground. Vittorio had considered it more than once, but it was a good sixty feet, he reckoned. He'd have to sweat it out.

It was a little after seven when he arrived at La Reserve and checked in. He called Birgit.

"Good day," she said.

"It's Vittorio. Thanks for booking the room."

"I am glad to."

"Do you know where Barbara is now?"

"I have seen her in the hotel shop some minutes ago."

"Where is the shop?"

"In the main building, but she is not there no more."

"Where is she?"

"I am seeing her getting into black BMW for her dinner date."

"Do you know where she is dining?"

"Yes, she is asking me about restaurant."

"Which restaurant?"

"La Fonda."

"Do you know the address?"

"Not exactly address. It is on the beach outside town."

"What road?"

"The big main road; I forget the number."

"Never mind; it doesn't matter." He would wait for her in her cottage.

"I am sorry I have been to this restaurant once before. It is best in Tijuana."

"La Fonda is in Tijuana?"

"Yes, on the road from Tijuana, on the beach. Is easy to find."

That put a whole new light on things. "Thank you, Birgit."

"We are having dinner, Vittorio?"

He thought about it. Why not? "You want to go to La Fonda?"

"Oh, yes."

"How soon can you be ready?"

"Thirty minutes?"

That would give them time to settle down at the restaurant before he arrived. "I'll meet you out front in half an hour."

VITTORIO HAD TWO PHONE CALLS to make. First, he called the Bel-Air and asked for Ed Eagle.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Eagle, it's Vittorio."

"Yes, Vittorio?"

"I know where Barbara is, or at least, where she'll be a little later this evening."

"Tell me, and I'll call the police."

"I'm afraid that won't help."

"Why not?"

"She's staying at La Jolla again, but she's gone to Tijuana for dinner. I'm headed down there; do you want to be there when I confront her?"

"Yes, I do"

"You have an airplane, don't you?"

"Yes. The flight is less than an hour."

"She'll be at a restaurant called La Fonda. It's on the beach, west of the city. Any cabdriver should know it. I'll be outside."

"See you there." Eagle hung up, and Vittorio began getting into his resort clothes.

Then he made his second phone call.