Stuart Woods - L.A. Dead

"I read the papers, I watch TV," Garcia said. "Your name was familiar to me."

"I want to find Cordova, talk to him."

"Not arrest him?"

Stone shook his head. "The police don't consider him a suspect. I just want to find out what he knows about that night."

Garcia nodded sagely. "There are some difficulties here," he said.

The waiter arrived with their lunch.

"What difficulties?" Stone asked.

"Tijuana is a difficult place, even for someone with my connections. And maybe Senor Cordova doesn't want to talk to you. That would make him harder to find."

Stone read this as a nudge for more money. "Can you find him?"

"Probably, but it will take time and effort."

"I'm quite willing to pay for your time," Stone said.

Garcia pushed a huge forkful of lobster into his mouth and chewed reflectively. Finally, he swallowed. "And if I find him, then what?"

"Arrange a meeting," Stone said.

Garcia chuckled. "You mean a nice lunch, like this?" He waved a hand.

"I just want an hour with the man."

"How, ah, hard do you wish to talk to him?"

"I don't want to beat answers out of him, if that's what you mean."

"Are you willing to pay him to sit still for this, ah, conversation, then?"

"Yes, within reason."

"I am not reasonable," Garcia said. "I will require five thousand dollars for my services, half now and half when you see Cordova."

"I don't have twenty-five hundred dollars on me," Stone said. "I can give you a thousand now and the rest in cash when we meet Cordova."

Garcia nodded gravely. "For a friend of Rick's that is agreeable."

Stone took a stack often one-hundred-dollar bills from his pocket, folded them and slipped them under Garcia's napkin. "When?"

"Within a week or so, I think," Garcia replied, pocketing the money.

"You have my number."

Garcia suddenly looked at his wristwatch. "Oh, I have to run," he said, standing up. "I will be in touch." He turned and walked back into the hotel without another word.

Stone finished his lunch and paid the check.

As Stone walked back into the Calder bungalow at Centurion, he could see Betty in her office, leaning back in her chair and waving the phone. "It's Joan Robertson, in New York," she called out.

Stone went to Vance's office, picked up the phone, and spoke to his secretary. "What's up?" He asked.

"Oh, Stone, I'm so glad I got you," Joan said breathlessly. "Water is coming down the stairs."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the main stairs of the house look like a tributary of the Hudson River. It's been raining hard here for three days."

"Oh, shit," Stone said. When he had inherited the house, the roof had seemed the one thing that didn't need renovating. It was old, but it was of slate, which could last a hundred years or more. Now it occurred to Stone that the house was over a hundred years old, and so was the roof. "Here's what you do," he said. "Call a guy named Billy Foote; he's in my phone book. Billy was my helper when I was renovating the house, and he can do almost anything. Tell him to buy a whole lot of plastic sheeting and to get up on the roof and tack it down everywhere. That'll stop the worst of it."

"Okay, then what?" Joan asked sensibly.

Stone realized he didn't know a roofer, let alone one qualified to tackle a slate roof. "Let me think for a minute," he said.

"Listen, Stone, I think you ought to get back here. There are clients you need to see, instead of just talking on the phone, and there's going to be damage to the house as a result of all the water coming in. Please come back."

Stone knew she was right. "I'll be home as soon as humanly possible," he said. "Call Billy, and tell him to hire whatever help he can and to start asking around about roofers who can deal with slate."

"All right," she said, then hung up.

Stone buzzed Betty.

"Yes?"

"Get me on the red-eye," he said. "I've got to go back to New York for a few days."

"Right; you want a car to meet you at the airport?"

"Good idea. I'm going over to Arrington's; you can reach me there, if you need me."

"Okay."

Stone packed his bags and loaded them into Vance's car.

Betty came out of the bungalow. "When are you coming back?" Betty asked.

"As soon as I can," Stone replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Stone, I think I'm going to be getting out of here pretty soon. Do you think you'll need me much longer?"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd hang around at least until I get back from New York.

"Don't worry, I'll clean up Vance's affairs for you, and I'll find somebody to do the job for Arrington when I'm gone. Now you get back to New York, and I'll see you when I see you." She gave him a sharp slap on the rump to send him on his way, and went back to her office.

All the way to Arrington's he thought about his house, how he loved it, and what must be happening to it. He called Joan on the car phone.

"Yes, Stone?"

"You'd better call Chubb Insurance and have them get somebody over there in a hurry. Tell them I need a recommendation for a roofer."

"Will do."

He entered the Calder property through the utility entrance, as had become his habit. Arrington heard the car pull up and met him at the back door.

She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "I missed you," she said.

"How are you?"

"Bored rigid, as a matter of fact." She kissed him again. "And randy."

"Now, now, now, now…" Stone said, holding her away from him. "We can't allow ourselves to think that way, you know that."

"Come on in, and let me fix you a drink."

"I could use one," he replied. They settled in the little sitting room off the master suite. "I have to go back to New York for a little while," he said.

"Oh, no," she replied. "You're all I've got right now, Stone."

Stone explained about the roof and his impatient clients. "If there's as much water as Joan says there is, then it's going to take me some time to get things sorted out."

"But what will I do without you here?"

"Marc Blumberg is in charge of your case, anyway, I'm just an adviser."

"Marc is good, but he's no smarter than you are," she said.

"Thank you, but we're on his turf, and he knows it a lot better than I do. Who else could have gotten you bail on a Saturday?"

"I suppose you're right."

"I'll call every day" he said.

"You getting the red-eye?"

"Yes."

"Let's have some dinner before you go, then." She picked up a phone, buzzed Manolo, and ordered food. "And after dinner, will you please drive Mr. Barrington to the airport?" She thanked him and hung up. "I don't know what I would have done without Manolo," she said. "He's the most intensely loyal person I've ever met, besides you. Do you know that as soon as Vance was buried, he started getting offers from people, some of them my friends? And he turned down every one of them. He and Maria have just been wonderful."

"You're lucky to have them," Stone agreed. "On the subject of loyal help, Betty Southard told me this afternoon that she's going to leave as soon as Vance's affairs are settled, probably move to Hawaii."

"I don't blame her," Arrington said. "She's never liked me, particularly, so maybe it's best."

"She said she'd find somebody to work for you."

"Good."

"I'd like to wash up before dinner; will you excuse me?"

"Use Vance's bathroom, it's the closest," she said, pointing to the hallway.

Stone left her and found the bathroom. As he came back up the hallway, past Vance's dressing room, he thought something was odd, but he wasn't sure what. He walked back to the bathroom and looked at the wall backing up onto the dressing room, then he walked down the hallway and looked at the dressing room. There was something wrong with the proportions, but the bourbon he had just had on an empty stomach was keeping him from figuring it out. He went back and joined Arrington.