Stuart Woods - Santa Fe Dead

“Thanks. I’ll be there shortly.” He drove back to his home, parked in the garage and let himself into the kitchen. A police detective was sitting at the counter, sipping coffee. “Good evening,” Eagle said.

“I made myself some coffee,” the cop said.

“Raid the refrigerator, if you’re hungry. I’m going to bed. Long day.”

“Good night, then,” the cop said.

Eagle went into his bedroom and switched on the lights.

JACK CATO HAD seen the car drive in and the light go on. He worked his way around the house a couple of dozen yards until he could see, through a window, someone moving. He sighted through the scope and found his victim, as described.

He knelt beside a large boulder and rested the rifle on it, giving himself a steady shooting cradle. The target walked past a window, but he didn’t have time to fire. Then the target came back and was satisfyingly still, framed by the window, undressing.

Cato needed only a single shot. He heard the glass break, and his target spun and fell, out of sight. Cato wasted no time. He walked quickly back to the car, disassembled the rifle, locked it in the trunk in the compartment with the spare tire, backed out of the dirt road with his lights off and drove away from the house. Using his map, he found another way back to town. An hour after the kill, he was in his bed, sound asleep, with the clock radio set for five A.M.

The following morning, Cato was back at the airport, just as Santa Fe Jet opened. He turned in his rental car and paid his fuel bill in cash, and half an hour later he was on his way back to Los Angeles.

After landing, he called the cell number he had been given.

“Yes?” she said.

“The job is done.”

“I’ll mail your money as soon as it’s confirmed.”

Cato hung up and drove home.

BARBARA TURNED OFF the cell phone and put it in her handbag.

“Well,” she said to Jimmy Long, who was sitting up in bed, reading the papers, “my work here is done.”

“You’re leaving today?”

“Tomorrow,” she said. “I want to see the papers before I leave.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll be back.”

DETECTIVE ALEX REESE got the call at home, and he arrived at the house to find an ambulance parked at the front door and a stretcher being loaded. He got to the driver before the vehicle pulled away.

“What’s the story?” he asked.

“Gunshot wound to the back of the head,” the man said. “Still alive, though.” He put the ambulance in gear and drove away.

Reese went into the house and found two deputy sheriffs placing yellow tape across a bedroom door. He ducked under the tape and walked into the master suite. Bullet hole through a windowpane, considerable blood on the carpet. There was nothing for him to do here, so he gave the deputies his card. “Tell the criminalist I want a copy of his report faxed to me the minute it’s ready,” he said.

Reese went into the study and found Ed Eagle on the phone.

“Cupie,” Eagle was saying, “it’s Ed Eagle. Call me as soon as possible on my cell phone.”

“What are you doing here, Mr. Eagle?” Reese asked.

“We had a lunch date; I found her on the bedroom floor, unconscious and bleeding, and I called nine-one-one.” He stood up. “I’m going to the hospital. If you want to talk more, I’ll see you there.”

“All right,” Reese said.

EAGLE LEFT SUSANNAH’S house in a cold fury and drove to the hospital. He went into the emergency room and found a doctor he knew, who promised to let him know as soon as an assessment of Susannah’s condition had been made, then he went and sat in the reception area.

Alex Reese came in and sat down beside him. “How is she?”

“They don’t know yet.”

“All right, Ed, tell me everything you know.”

Eagle explained about the death of Joe Wilen and how he had expected to be attacked that weekend. “Bob Martínez sent two detectives out to the house. We were hoping to arrest the assassin and question him, but, as it turns out, he was after Susannah, not me.”

“Who would have done this?” Reese asked.

“My ex-wife hired somebody to kill Wilen and, I thought, me. As it turns out, she had a plan to cause me a lot of pain first. Next, she’ll come after me.”

“Where is your ex now?”

“In Los Angeles. The police there have been watching her.”

“Any other possible suspects?”

“None. You’d be wasting your time if you looked for anybody else.”

A doctor approached them, and Eagle stood up. “Yes, Doctor?”

“Ms. Wilde has suffered a gunshot wound; the bullet creased the back of her skull and knocked her down. The scalp wound bled a lot, but she’s not seriously hurt. She has a concussion, so we’ll keep her overnight to make sure nothing further develops. She’s awake, if you want to see her, but she’s been sedated, so she’s pretty groggy.”

“Yes, please, I’d like to see her.” Eagle was led into a curtained cubicle where Susannah lay on a gurney. He picked up her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Dreamy,” she said.

“I’m sorry this happened. I never believed she’d go after you.”

“Ed,” Susannah said, “come close.”

Eagle bent over and put his ear near her lips.

“If you don’t kill her,” Susannah whispered, “I’m going to.” Then she seemed to fall asleep.

EAGLE WAS DRIVING home when his cell phone vibrated. "Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Cupie.”

“Cupie, I thought Barbara’s hit man would come after me this weekend, but he didn’t. He went after Susannah Wilde instead.”

“Oh, shit.”

“She’s all right; the shot clipped her but missed doing serious damage by half an inch.”

“Do you think the hit man thinks she’s dead?”

“Probably.”

“Can you get a story planted in the Santa Fe paper saying she was shot and killed?”

“I know the editor, but I don’t think he would print a false report.”

“Tell him what’s up. It’s best if Barbara thinks she’s dead. Don’t use her name, just say an actress. Tell him to put it on the AP wire, too.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Eagle said. “In the meantime, I want you to start thinking about something.” Eagle told him what he had in mind.

“That’s going to be tough,” Cupie said, “and it involves serious criminal activity on my part.”

“You’ll be well paid, Cupie. If you don’t want to do this, tell me, and I’ll get somebody else.”

Cupie was quiet for a moment. “Let me get Vittorio in on this,” he said. “I think it would appeal to him.”

“All right, talk to him about it, then get back to me.”

“Will do.” Cupie hung up.

One way or another, Eagle vowed to himself, he was going to see Barbara taken out.

BARBARA WOKE EARLY and went downstairs. The L.A. Times and The Wall Street Journal were on the doorstep. She took them into the kitchen, made coffee and started leafing through the Times . Nothing in the front section. She was well into the arts pages before she found it.

ACTRESS MURDERED IN SANTA FE

AP: Santa Fe police announced the death by shooting of a woman they described as "a member of the film community” at her home outside the city. She had apparently been shot through a bedroom window by a sniper, who is being sought by police. Police are withholdingher name, pending notification of next of kin.

Barbara thought her coffee had never tasted better. In a rush of good feeling, she made breakfast for Jimmy and took it upstairs to him on a tray.

“Hey, the service is getting pretty good around here,” he said. “You sure you have to go?”