Paul said, “Scott Schelling.”
“Yes. What we’re doing is erasing the last evidence of a youthful indiscretion for a rich man who will only get richer. He’s into having power over people. Maybe six years ago he overdid it with some girl. Wendy Harper is the only one left who knows it, and he’s willing to pay big to end the threat. And I guarantee he will have problems of the same sort in the future. Men like him always do. Then you can be sure I’ll get a call to have you come and solve his problem.”
“Interesting,” said Paul.
“Yes, interesting,” Sylvie echoed. “It’s interesting that you gave our names to a man who loves having power over people, and surrounds himself with thugs. Thanks.”
Densmore’s breath caught for a second. While he had been talking she had driven up the Golden State Freeway almost to the foothills. They passed under a big green sign that said “14—Antelope Valley Freeway.” Densmore had made so many mistakes. He hadn’t needed to stay in his office this late. He just had not wanted to go home and face Grace’s resentment. The whole office had cleared out long ago. For that matter, he could have paid for bodyguards—the thugs that Sylvie seemed to be so afraid of. She was driving him up into the mountains. He hated her. He felt such contempt for her that it was making him stupid.
He had to appeal to Paul. “Paul, think about this. You and I have had a good working relationship. We’ve made money. We’ve lived well.”
“Pretty well.”
“And this time, when things got tough, did I question your competence or insult you? No. I offered to pay four times—” Densmore saw the expression on Paul’s face too late. Paul must have been keeping this from her. He closed his mouth, but too many words had already come out.
The gun roared in the confined space of the car, fulfilling Densmore’s premonition: The bullet burned through his belly. He bent double, not even in reaction to the pain, but as though the bullet had forced the muscles to spasm. Then he felt the hot muzzle of Paul’s gun against the back of his head.
Darkness came.
33
TILL AWOKE AND LOOKED at the clock beside the bed. It was seven in the morning. He inhaled slowly and smelled Wendy’s scent on the pillow, then turned to face her. Her facial muscles relaxed during sleep, so her face looked smooth and untroubled.
He took his cell phone, slipped into Wendy’s room, then into her bathroom, closed the door and called Max Poliakoff. He got Poliakoff’s voice mail. “Max,” he said. “This is Till. The man who is after Wendy Harper is named Scott. I don’t know if it’s a first name or a last name. But now you know what I know. I’ll talk to you later.”
He called Holly’s number, but her phone was turned off. He said, “It’s just me, your early-bird father. I love you. Have a great day.” He disconnected, and went to Wendy’s window to look outside. As always, the sidewalks and the path to the rock were full of tourists—men wearing baggy shorts and women in unflattering hats. He studied them, and after a minute he had satisfied himself that there was no sign of suspicious activity, so he closed the curtain again.
He went back to his room, and when he stepped in, he saw that Wendy’s eyes were open, looking at him, and he smiled.
“Good,” she said.
“What?”
“When you saw me, you didn’t frown and think, ‘What the hell have I done?’”
“I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m sorry if I made noise.”
“You didn’t,” she said. “But it was time to get up and get moving. I’m feeling energetic today.”
“Why? What happened?”
“You know what happened.” She smiled. “Don’t start pretending you weren’t in your right mind or something.” She stood up, threw her arms around him, and held him.
They embraced for a long time, and kissed. Then he pulled back a bit. “Do you think you’re up to going the rest of the way to L.A.? I think it’s time to go finish what we started.”
They stood there together for a few seconds, and then she said, “I think you’re right. Let’s do it.”
They went about packing, showering, and dressing without speaking. The silence was new. There was an intimacy to it, a change that came over them because they had slept together, but there was also an element of dread. As Jack packed his suitcase, he thought about the trip to Los Angeles, and about the man named Scott.
The telephone on the nightstand rang, and startled him. He supposed she had probably asked for a wake-up call. He picked it up. “Yes?”
“Mr. Till?”
“Yes.”
“This is Rob Sheffield of the Cheapcars rental company, San Luis Obispo office. I hate to bother you, but I understood from the police that you were staying here, and if you could spare me a few minutes, we could get the accident report out of the way for the car you rented in San Francisco.”
Till said, “Do you already have the police report?”
“That’s been received at the San Francisco office, but I don’t have a copy with me at the moment. I was out when I got the call, so I’m in the lobby, and I thought maybe you would come down to speak with me for a few minutes.”
“All right. I’ll be down as soon as I can.” Till hung up.
Wendy appeared at the connecting door. “Who was that?”
“There’s a guy downstairs who wants to talk to me. Just a second.” He went to the desk where he had left his belongings, and found the papers for his rental car. He dialed a number from the back sheet. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Jack Till. I’m a customer, and I was wondering if you could tell me if you have a Mr. Sheffield at your office. You do? Is he in the office today? No, that’s okay. Thanks. I’ll talk to him later.”
“What’s wrong?” Wendy asked.
“Just a precaution. The other night, the cop promised he wasn’t going to write down where we were staying. Maybe he forgot to tell his partner. There’s a workout room off the back hallway on the ground floor. You know—treadmills and weight benches and stuff. I saw it when I came in the back door a couple of nights ago. Go in there and wait for me.”
She nodded. “Okay. Are we in trouble?”
“Sorry. It’s just another precaution. If this isn’t about you, then there’s no reason for him to know about you. I’ll come for you when I’m done.”
“Fine,” she said.
He opened the door and they walked down the hall to the stairwell. They descended to the first floor and he led her to the door of the gym, looked through the small window to see who was inside, and opened the door for her. “Nobody there. See you in a little while.”
“Right.”
He returned to the stairwell, ran up the stairs and along the hall to the elevator, then took it to the lobby. As Till stepped out into the lobby, he saw the man who was waiting for him. He was tall, about forty years old, wearing a gray sport coat, white shirt, and a red tie. He looked like a former high-school athlete who already had the bad knees and the slight belly, and would probably have the heart attack in a few more years.
The man stepped forward and held out his hand. “Mr. Till? Rob Sheffield. Thanks for setting aside the time to talk to me.”
Till shook his hand. “No problem. What do we need to do?”
“You tell me the whole story of what happened to the car, I go back to the office and fill out the forms, and the company takes care of getting it appraised and sending it to the shop.”
“All right. By the way, how did you find out where I was staying?”
Sheffield smiled. “The rental papers, I imagine.”