Stuart Woods: Santa Fe Edge

“She has a history, Bob. Tip was screwing her while she was still married to her last husband. I expect that if I send an investigator to Dallas to talk to other members of the tour and their wives and girlfriends, we’ll find that she had a reputation among the camp followers. This is an old story, Bob, and it will embarrass everybody concerned when the news desks pick it up from the sports pages. You really want to stir that up?”

“Maybe they’ve been fighting. Maybe we’ll turn that up among their friends.”

“So what? Every couple fights, but they rarely murder each other. Now, do you really want to arraign him? If you do, then I’ll get him released on his own recognizance and he’ll go back to playing golf for a living, and the whole thing will drag on for weeks before I get a dismissal. Do the right thing, here, Bob.”

Martínez opened a file on his desk and made a show of reading it, while Eagle sat mute, occasionally crossing and recrossing his legs just to let him know he was still there.

“All right, I’ll drop the charges for now,” Martínez said, “but if we turn up anything else-anything at all-I’ll have him rearrested.”

“That’s fair, Bob. Now, will you please fax over a release order to the jail, so I can drive the boy home? He’s got some grieving to do.”

Martínez buzzed his secretary. “Type up a release order for one Terrence Hanks,” he said. “I’ll sign it, and you can fax it to the jail.”

Eagle stood up and offered his hand. “Thank you, Bob,” he said. “You won’t regret doing that.”

Eagle left the office, got into his car and drove back to the jail, phoning ahead to let them know he was coming and to have his client processed out. He had only a few minutes to wait before Tip Hanks appeared, taking his belongings out of an envelope and stuffing them into his pockets.

“Is it time for the arraignment?” he asked as he shook Eagle’s hand.

“You’re not going to be arraigned,” Eagle said. “I persuaded the D.A. to drop the charges.”

Hanks looked at him incredulously. “How did you do that?”

“He hadn’t even read the case file thoroughly,” Eagle replied, leading him out the front door. “Once he did, he reconsidered, after I had pointed out how weak his case was.”

They got into the car, and Eagle turned toward Las Campanas. “By the way,” he said, “I told him that your wife was on the pill; I hope that’s true.”

“It is,” Hanks replied.

“Here’s my theory of the case: Your wife was having an affair, and she didn’t expect you home before noon today. Her lover had already shot her, for reasons of his own, when you pulled up, and he ran. Maybe they’ll find DNA, maybe not. He could have used a condom. But they won’t find your DNA in her, right?”

“Right,” Hanks said.

“You’re wondering who she was having the affair with?”

“Yes.”

“Any ideas?”

“Could have been anybody,” Hanks replied. “She liked sex more than any woman I ever met, and she wanted it regularly. Normally, she’d have been in Dallas with me, but she’s missed a couple of tournaments lately, saying she wasn’t feeling well enough to go. She was a terrible hypochondriac.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Eagle said.

“What are the chances that they’ll catch the guy?” Hanks asked.

“Fifty-fifty, I’d say. A lot better if there’s DNA.”

Hanks put his head back against the headrest and sighed. “She didn’t deserve this,” he said.

“Are you scheduled to play next weekend?”

“No, I passed on the next one. The week after, though.”

“That’s time enough to get your head together,” Eagle said. “Go out and practice as you usually do; look sad, don’t laugh at anybody’s jokes; keep any conversations about her to an absolute minimum. People are going to be watching your reactions. Same thing when you rejoin the tour.” He followed directions to Hanks’s front door, and the young man got out.

“I’ll send you a check. What do I owe you?” he asked.

“I get ten grand for getting out of bed,” Eagle said. “I’ll send you a bill.”

“Fair enough.”

“If the evidence doesn’t go your way and Martínez has you rearrested, I’ll apply it to my retainer.” Eagle reached into his glove compartment and found a card. “This is the number of a service that cleans up crime scenes,” he said. “Don’t call them until the police let you know they’ve released the scene. Take care.”

Eagle drove away, thinking he’d done a good day’s work.

Barbara spent a day shopping in Phoenix and Scottsdale, and found a used, low-mileage Mercedes station wagon within her budget. By the time she had finished shopping she still had twenty thousand dollars of Alvarez’s money in her new purse. She employed her old, legal identity as Eleanor Keeler, which would be all right as long as Warden Alvarez didn’t report her escape.

She found a branch of her San Francisco bank and arranged a wire transfer of cash from her account, and they issued her a new checkbook. None of her credit cards had expired.

After a room-service dinner and a movie in her room she called Canyon Ranch, in Tucson, a top-notch spa resort, and booked herself into a suite for a week. Then the following morning she drove there and checked in.

It was a beautiful place, and her little cottage was near the dining room and classrooms. She didn’t need to lose any weight, but she took the opportunity to tone up and pamper herself with facials and massages.

A couple of days after she checked in, as she sat down for dinner in the crowded dining room, an attractive couple asked if they could join her.

“We’re Hugh and Charlene Holroyd,” the man said, and she shook both their hands. “Eleanor Keeler,” Barbara replied. She had no qualms about using the name, because, according to Jimmy, the AP reports of her arrest and trial in Mexico had used the name Barbara Eagle.

Everyone got on together immediately, and they hadn’t been sitting at her table more than five minutes before Barbara knew what they had in mind, which was fine with her, because she hadn’t had enough voluntary sex for nearly three months, and she missed it.

After dinner they invited her back to their cottage, which was larger than hers, and everybody had a drink. Fifteen minutes later the three of them were in bed together.

Later, when they had exhausted themselves, Hugh asked, “Where do you hail from, Eleanor?”

“ San Francisco,” Barbara replied, “but I’m thinking of making a change. How about you two?”

“We have a ranch near Los Alamos, in New Mexico,” Hugh said. “You should come for a visit. It’s nice around there.”

“What a kind invitation,” Barbara said, kissing Charlene again. “I just might take you up on it.”

“You girls play,” Hugh said. “I’ll just watch, until I, ah, catch my breath.”

TIP HANKS SHOWED the cleaners out of the house. They had made his bedroom as new and replaced the bedding and mattress. He was all right, really, except that he was still angry with his wife, and he was glad for the cleaners to take away garbage bags full of her clothes and other belongings. Now there was nothing left of her in the house, and he wanted it that way. He’d kept her jewelry, which was locked in the safe.

The phone rang, and he answered. It was his caddie, Mike Pat-rick. “Hey buddy,” Tip said.

“I heard about it on TV,” Mike said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m getting past it,” Tip replied. “I’m going to start practicing again tomorrow.”

“You want me there?”

“Nah, Mike, I’ll meet you in Houston next Tuesday night. You’ve already booked the hotel, haven’t you?”