Twenty-six

EAGLE WALKED INTO THE INN OF THE ANASAZI TO FIND Susannah Wilde waiting for him, standing in front of a roaring fireplace in the lobby. She was wearing a cream-colored linen dress that set off her tan, a string of pearls, a cashmere sweater over her shoulders and a big smile. She offered her hand.

Eagle took it. "The car is right outside," he said, "not that we need it. The restaurant is just up the street." He put her into the passenger seat, tipped the carhop and drove the two blocks to Santa Cafe.

"I've heard of this place," she said as they were seated.

"I'm glad to be the first to bring you here. We're blessed with good restaurants in Santa Fe, but this is my favorite."

A waiter appeared.

"What would you like to drink?" he asked.

"I'll have a Knob Creek on the rocks, please," Susannah said.

"A woman after my own heart. Make that two. And where did an LA. girl learn to drink hundred-proof bourbon?"

"Oh, I'm not an L.A. girl at all; I'm a Georgia girl, small town called Delano."

"Never heard of it."

"Neither has anybody else, but it got me my first movie role."

"How?"

"A couple of weeks after I first arrived in L.A., I was waiting outside Neiman Marcus for my car to be brought around, and I got into a conversation with an elderly man named Richard Barron."

"I've heard of Rick Barron," he said. "He's the chairman of Centurion Studios."

"I didn't know that, at the time. We had a five-minute wait, and he asked me where I was from. I told him, and, to my astonishment, he told me he had been born in Delano, Georgia, though he left there when he was quite young. You can imagine his surprise when I told him I was from Delano, too. Our cars arrived, he gave me his card and asked me to call him. I did, and he arranged for me to meet the head of production at Centurion, who introduced me to several producers at lunch, and a week later, I had an agent and was working in my first movie."

"Are you always so lucky?"

"Not always. I married one of the producers, and I wouldn't call that lucky."

"Kids?"

"Nope."

"How long have you been divorced?"

"A little over a year. How about you?"

Eagle looked at his watch. "By five o'clock tomorrow afternoon, if I'm lucky."

"How long separated?"

"Less than a week."

"How do you get a divorce so quickly?"

"One: you have a signed financial settlement; two: you have a very good reason; and three: you have a good buddy who's a judge. I have all three."

Their drinks came, and she raised her glass. "Here's to all three," she said.

Eagle raised his glass. "I'll drink to that."

"I take it you're not in a frame of mind to reconsider your marriage."

"You are a perceptive woman."

"It's not hard to see the anger underneath your otherwise charming demeanor."

"That's not anger," he said. "It's relief. The anger came when I found out she'd stolen over a million dollars from me and gone to Mexico."

"Compared to my settlement divorce, that's a cheap divorce," Susannah said.

"That's not counting the other four million she tried to steal but that I was able to hang onto. And it's not costing me very much. I managed to get a lot of it back."

"How did you do that?"

"I hire good people. What about you? Are you still angry at your former husband?"

"The anger pretty much went away when he made good on the settlement."

"Good for you. Anger is self-destructive. It's why I don't do divorce work anymore; I couldn't take the anger my clients were radiating. Let's change the subject. I loved your work in Big Deal and Dare Me."

"Thanks. You Googled me, didn't you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I Googled you, too."

He laughed. "Got me, but I did see both pictures and a couple of others, too."

"Supporting work is sometimes the best," she said, "although, from your resume, I take it you prefer to star."

Eagle laughed. "Nobody ever put it exactly that way before, but yes, I do. I prefer associates to partners. Do you intend to keep on working after your move to Santa Fe?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to look very hard for it. I'll let my agent do that, and I'll only take the good roles. If I don't get those, then I'll produce something myself and shoot it in Santa Fe."

"You're a smart girl," he said. "I hope you don't mind being called that."

"Smart or girl?"

"Girl."

"I'm old enough to take it as a compliment."

They ordered dinner and a bottle of wine.

"What tribe are you?" she asked.

"An eastern tribe."

"Which one?"

"I don't suppose you'd believe I'm the last of the Mohicans?"

"I know the story too well to buy that."

"Ashkenazie."

"That's more like one of the tribes of Israel, isn't it?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Funny, the Internet thinks you're an Indian."

"I never said so to anybody," Eagle said, "but I never contradicted anybody who thought so."

"You're an interesting man, Ed Eagle."

"And you're an interesting woman, Susannah Wilde."

Twenty-seven

A FEW MILES NORTH OF PUERTO VALLARTA, VlTTORIO spoke up. "Something's wrong," he said.

"What?" Cupie responded. "What's wrong?"

Vittorio pulled over to the shoulder of the road and got out. He looked at the left front wheel, kicked it and screamed, "Goddammit!!!"

Cupie got out. "Flat?"

"Flat." Vittorio opened the trunk.

"Spare?"

"It's here," Vittorio said, freeing the tire and rolling it to the front of the car. "Get the tools, will you?"

Cupie went back to the trunk and returned with a jack and a lug wrench. He knelt down, placed the jack and pumped away, until the tire was nearly free of the road, then he handed the lug wrench to Vittorio. "The rest is yours," he said. He leaned against the car and mopped his brow, then he glanced down the highway. "Uh-oh," he said. "Black Suburban coming."

Vittorio yanked the flat off the car and stood up. "Not again," he moaned. "Get in the car and get her down," he said.

Cupie got back in the car. "Barbara," he said.

She was sitting in the backseat, looking bored.

"I want you to get all the way down on the floor, and right now."

"Shit," she said, but she did it.

Cupie picked up his shotgun, flipped off the safety, then opened the road map and used it to cover the weapon. "All set in here," he said, then pretended to study the map.

Vittorio got the spare on the car and had the lugs finger-tight before the Suburban arrived.

The big, black vehicle slowed, then stopped, and the front passenger window slid down. Same bandito as before. "Buenos dias, senores," he said. "Do you have trouble?"

"Not any more," Vittorio said, tightening the lugs. He stood up and rolled the flat tire to the trunk and tossed it in, then went back for the tools.

"Are you certain you do not require any help?"

Vittorio closed the trunk then went and stood next to the rear door of the car, blocking any view of the backseat. "All done," he said, wiping his brow with his sleeve.

The rear window of the Suburban slid down a few inches, and this time Vittorio could see the figure in the rear seat. The window slid up again.

"Vaya con Dios, senores," the front passenger said, and the Suburban moved away.

Vittorio got into the car. "The guy in the rear seat was wearing a police uniform," he said. "I have the very strong feeling that we're going to encounter a roadblock before we go too many more miles."

"Make a U-turn," Cupie said. "I saw an interesting sign back there."

Vittorio turned the car around and started back. A mile or so down the road the sign appeared.