Stuart Woods: Short Straw

"He's dragged me into a triple homicide," Eagle replied.

"Oh, was one of them Barbara?"

"Nope."

"Too bad."

EAGLE ARRIVED AT SANTA CAFE ON TIME AND FOUND Wolf Willett already at the bar, sipping bourbon. Eagle ordered a Laphroaig, his favorite single-malt Scotch.

"I don't know why you drink that stuff," Wolf said, nodding at the amber liquid in Eagle's hand.

"Nectar of the gods," Eagle replied, "unlike that Kentucky horse piss you drink."

"It's the patriotic thing to do," Wolf replied, raising his glass. "Unlike that foreign camel sweat you imbibe. How'd the party go today?"

"The way it was supposed to, I guess," Eagle said.

"You don't sound too happy about it. Or is it the thing with Barbara that's got you down."

"Jesus, Wolf, I was in love with the woman, really I was."

"I was in love with Julia, too, right up to the moment when she tried to kill me and take my money. At least, Barbara didn't try to kill you."

"Maybe she did. She put Ambien in my wine last night; I found the bottle in her bathroom, empty. Maybe she didn't use enough; maybe she forgot to refill the prescription."

"You didn't see this coming, then?"

"I guess that's what really pisses me off. I pride myself on being able to read people, but man, I didn't read her."

The head waitress came to the bar. "Your table is ready, Mr. Willett, Mr. Eagle."

They got up and followed her into the next room, where she seated them by the fireplace. The aromas of pinon smoke and good food filled the space. They ordered dinner and a bottle of wine.

"Are you going to put the cops on her?" Wolf asked.

Eagle shook his head. "She hasn't broken the law, just me."

"She steals what, a million two? And that doesn't break the law?"

"She was authorized to sign on both accounts. The brokerage accounts, too, but I got to the broker five minutes before he wired her another four million."

"Good timing. What are you going to do?"

"Well, forgiving her and inviting her back isn't going to work, since she obviously wants to be somewhere else."

"With somebody else?"

"I have no idea."

"So, what are your options?"

"As far as I can figure, two: let her keep the money and divorce her, or find her and kill her."

"I hope you're not considering the second option."

"No, I'm not mad enough at her-not yet, anyway-just disappointed."

"Well, if you can get a divorce without giving her any more money, that wouldn't be such a bad deal."

"I guess not."

"Does she have any other money?"

"Her first husband was a jeweler in New York; he gave her a lot of diamonds, but I've no idea what they're worth." He recalled that he had met Barbara in prison, after she had let her boyfriend through the security to rob her husband's business, and the boyfriend had shot the husband. She had turned state's evidence and gotten a short sentence, then had been paroled in a general release of nonviolent prisoners due to prison overcrowding.

"So, she should be pretty comfortable."

"Not as comfortable as she was here," Eagle said, "but I guess she could live well enough in Mexico on what she's got. Of course, she was counting on another four million."

Eagle's cell phone vibrated on his belt. "Hello?"

"Ed, it's Cupie."

"Where are you, Cupie?"

"In Mexico City."

"Jesus, that was fast."

"I connected with a good flight."

"Any luck?"

"I got a list of expensive hotels here off the Internet before I left, and I started calling them on the airplane phone. She's registered at an elegant little inn called El Parador, very swish. I'm standing across the street now. What are your instructions?"

"If I told you to shoot her, would you?"

There was a brief silence. "I wouldn't want to discuss that on the phone," Cupie replied.

"Only joking, Cupie. What I'd like you to do is to follow her when she leaves the hotel, and when she sits down somewhere, call me, then give her the phone."

"Okay, I can do that. I'll go into the hotel, in case she's having dinner there."

"Before I talk to her, I'd like to know if she's alone or with somebody."

"Okay, I'll see what kind of information a fifty will get me."

"Talk to you later." Eagle hung up and turned to Wolf. "I sent a P.I. down there, and he's found her."

"That's some P.I.," Wolf said.

"He's a smart guy; he's been useful in the past-on your case, as it happens. He found out that Julia and her boyfriend had gotten false passports."

Their dinner arrived. Eagle hadn't felt hungry, but the news that Barbara had been found had improved his appetite. "So," he said, "Centurion Studios bought your final cut on the movie?" Wolf had made many movies with a partner, and he'd made one from his partner's script after his death, but Eagle knew this was his first film made from his own script.

"They did, and without an argument."

"Are you happy with it?"

"I certainly am. If it does good business, I'll be back where I was with the studio when Jack was alive."

"Congratulations, Wolf; it's a milestone."

"It's a great relief," Wolf said. "I'm already working on another script. My plan is to do a film a year, either from my own script or somebody else's."

Eagle's cell phone vibrated again. "Hello?"

"Would you like to speak to Mrs. Eagle?" Cupie asked.

EAGLE COULDN'T BELIEVE HIS LUCK. "You bet your ass, I'd like to speak to her."

Cupie's voice became a little fainter; apparently he was holding out the phone to Barbara. "Excuse me, Mrs. Eagle," he was saying. "Yeah, you, sweetheart. Your husband would like to speak to you." Then Cupie sounded alarmed. "Hey, wait a minute, lady! You don't wanna…" Then there was a single, very loud noise.

Eagle took the phone away from his ear. "Jesus!" he said. "She shot him!"

"Are you sure?" Wolf asked.

"That was either a gunshot or a stick of dynamite," Eagle replied. "It was plenty loud." He put the phone back to his ear and listened. "Nothing," he said. "The connection was broken." He redialed Cupie's cell phone, but he was sent straight to voice mail.

"It's Eagle; call me." He hung up. "What the hell do I do now?" he asked.

LATER, BACK AT HOME, Eagle put the phone down. He had been trying to get hold of the Mexico City police for more than an hour, and finally he had gotten hold of a Colonel Ricardo. "The police can't find Cupie," he said to Wolf, who was sitting on the opposite sofa. "They searched the area near the hotel, and they couldn't find anybody matching his description, shot or not shot. They found some blood in an alley next to the hotel, but they're not even sure it's human."

"What else can you do?" Wolf asked.

"I've left a message for another guy I could send down there to look for him, but he hasn't returned my call. I talked with the local FBI guy, too, but he says they don't investigate shootings in Mexico, unless they involve U.S. officials, and Cupie isn't that. He's trying to get me a name in the federal police down there."

"I hope you're not thinking of going down there yourself," Wolf said.

"No. My experience with Mexico is limited to a single visit to Acapulco fifteen years ago, for Easter weekend, and I don't have the language. I'd be helpless."

"It's good that you know that. I'd go with you, but I'd be helpless, too."

Eagle's cell phone vibrated on his belt. He picked it up. "Hello?"

"It's Cupie." He sounded very tired.

"What happened, Cupie? I've had the Mexican cops looking for you."

"The bitch shot me, that's what happened! I was handing her the phone, and she pulled out this little gun, maybe a.25, and got off a round."

"Are you badly hurt?"

"I was in the process of ducking when she fired, and the bullet went right through that piece of flesh between my neck and my shoulder, you know? I bled like a stuck pig, but it wasn't too bad. I got back to my hotel and told the desk clerk I'd been robbed. He got me a doctor who, for an extra fifty, didn't see a need to call the cops. He patched me up and gave me a shot of penicillin and some Percodan. I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you sooner."