"You got an actual address?"
Harris gave him a range of street numbers. "That ought to narrow it to a block or so."
"Bobby, I can't thank you enough," Cupie said. "Let me know when I can do you a favor."
"Hey, Cupie, you can find out who my wife is fucking." Harris laughed loudly.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. See you around." Cupie grabbed a jacket. He had been getting bored, with no work. He headed for Venice Beach. If Barbara still had his cell phone, maybe he could nail down her location for Ed Eagle. It was something to do.
CUPIE FOUND A PARKING PLACE and began walking up and down the block of Venice Beach to which Harris had directed him. It was a collection of small shops, mostly tourist-oriented: T-shirts, souvenirs. He walked into a couple of them and had a look around. Finally, he stopped in front of a small photography shop and glanced at the window display. What really interested him, though, was that the young girl behind the counter inside was talking on a cell phone that looked very much like his.
He saw a public phone across the sidewalk, and on a whim, went to it and dialed his cell phone number. Busy signal. Bingo! He walked back into the shop and waited for the girl to complete her call.
"Can I help you?"
"I was thinking about some photographs. Hey, that's a good-looking cell phone, can I see it?" He took it from her hand before she could object, switched it off, then back on. As it booted up, it displayed his number.
"Great," he said, "where'd you get it?"
"It was a gift," she said, reaching for the phone, but he hung onto it.
"From who?"
A man stepped from behind a curtain, as if on cue, one hand in a pocket. "What's going on?" he asked.
Cupie recognized the guy but couldn't place him. "This young lady is using a stolen cell phone," Cupie said. "Care to explain that to me?" Cupie pulled his jacket back to reveal his old LAPD badge and the holstered gun, both on his belt. "And take your hand out of your pocket right now."
"I found it," the man said, removing his hand from his pocket.
"Where?"
"On the beach."
"Don't you know it's a crime to make calls on somebody else's phone?"
"Look, officer, I found it, okay?"
"When did you find it?"
"A few days ago, almost a week." Cupie put the phone in his pocket. "The phone company will be in touch," he said, then he turned and walked out of the shop.
BACK HOME, Cupie took another look at his phone bill. The first call had been made the evening he had crossed the border with Barbara, only a couple of minutes later. Then there was a gap of a couple of days before the calls resumed. The first number was in San Diego, and he dialed it.
"Good afternoon, La Reserve," a smooth male voice said.
"Uh, I'd like to book a table for two at eight-thirty," Cupie said.
"Are you a guest, sir?"
"A guest?"
"Our restaurant is not open to the public; this is a spa."
"Oh, I guess I got it mixed up with that other place. Where are you located?"
"In La Jolla, on the beach."
"Sorry about that," Cupie said, then hung up. Barbara was being nice to herself. He went to his computer and Googled La Reserve. Very nice, very plush, very expensive. He thought about it for a moment, then he called Ed Eagle.
"Hello, Cupie," Eagle said. "I sent your check a few days ago."
"Yes, Mr. Eagle, and I got it, thank you very much. I called, because I think I know where Barbara is, or was very recently."
"Where?"
"At a health spa in La Jolla called La Reserve. Very ritzy place, according to their website."
"And how do you know this?"
"My cell phone disappeared in Mexico-I think Barbara stole it-and a call was made on my phone to La Reserve a few minutes after we crossed the border. My guess is she called to book a room and went straight there."
"Very good, Cupie. You want to follow up on this?"
"Mr. Eagle, all due respect, but I've had enough of your wife; I don't want to go anywhere near her again. I just thought I'd pass on the information, and you can do with it as you like."
"Thank you, Cupie, I understand," Eagle said. "I assume you haven't entirely retired. Shall I call you again when something comes up?"
"Oh, sure, Mr. Eagle. I'm available for anything, except Mrs. Eagle."
"Thank you, Cupie."
EAGLE HUNG UP, called information, got the number for La Reserve and dialed it.
"Good afternoon, La Reserve," a man's voice said.
"May I speak to Barbara Eagle, please? She's a guest there; this is her husband."
"Just a mo-" The man stopped mid-word. "I'm afraid we have no one registered by that name, sir."
"Thank you," Eagle said, then hung up. He thought about it for a couple of minutes, then he made another call.
"Vittorio."
"It's Ed Eagle."
"Yes, Mr. Eagle, what can I do for you?"
"I've got a lead on Barbara's whereabouts." He described his phone conversation with Cupie and the man at La Reserve.
"I'm on it, Mr. Eagle."
"Wait a minute, Vittorio," Eagle said. "I want to reiterate: I do not want her killed, and I am not employing you for that purpose. I just want her signature on those blank sheets, this time, for real. Get that, and there's ten thousand dollars waiting for you."
"Yes, sir, I understand," Vittorio said. "I'll be in touch."
Vittorio hung up and began packing a bag. Ten minutes later he was on his way to Albuquerque Airport.
Forty-seven
EAGLE ARRIVED AT SEVEN AT SUSANNAH'S NEW HOUSE ON Tano Norte for her first dinner party. As he got out of his car, another car pulled up, and Rick Barron, the chairman of Centurion Studios, whom he had met briefly at the airport, got out, along with a woman who appeared to be his wife.
"Good evening, Ed," Barron said. "Nice to see you again. I'd like you to meet my wife, Glenna."
"How do you do, Glenna," Eagle said. If Barron was in his eighties, his wife appeared to be considerably younger, perhaps fifteen years or so.
"I've heard of your work, Mr. Eagle," Glenna Barron said.
"Please call me Ed. Shall we go in?"
The front door was ajar, and Eagle called out to Susannah.
"Come in," she shouted from the kitchen, "and go into the living room. Ramon will get you a drink."
A houseman in a white jacket and black bow tie appeared and led them into a large living room off the central hallway. He took their drink orders and prepared them inside what appeared to be a large armoire, which was actually the entrance to a roomy bar.
A moment later, Susannah joined them. "Did you all meet?" she asked.
"We did," Eagle replied.
Ramon handed her a drink, and she joined them. "I'm glad you're in time for the sunset," she said, and they all turned toward the large windows to see a lurid sky with a sun sinking behind the Jemez mountains.
"Los Alamos is right up there," Susannah said, pointing. "Where the atom bomb was built."
"Which saved a lot of lives," Eagle said, "in addition to snuffing out a lot of others. Were you in World War II, Rick?" he asked the movie producer.
"I was," Barron replied. "I flew fighters off the carrier Saratoga, until I got a knee shot up over Guadalcanal. That got me sent home, so I wasn't one of the lives saved by the bomb."
Glenna spoke up. "I was actually able to see Rick aboard the Saratoga," she said, "the day before he was wounded."
"What on earth were you doing aboard an aircraft carrier in the middle of a shooting war?" Eagle asked.
"I came aboard with the Artie Shaw Orchestra," she said. "I was their singer on a USO tour."
"I was just a bit surprised to see her," Rick laughed.
They talked on until they were called to dinner.
AFTER DINNER SUSANNAH led them to a paneled library across the central hallway from the living room and served Eagle and Barron coffee and brandy, then she took Glenna on a tour of the house.