EL RANCHO ENCANTADA

Parador

"Let's take a look," Cupie said, and Vittorio turned right. They drove down a single-track dirt road for a couple of miles, encouraged by further signs. As they crested a rise, the Pacific Ocean appeared, perhaps a mile ahead, and they could see a group of low buildings along the beach.

"Looks nice," Cupie said.

Barbara peered over the backseat. "What looks nice?"

Cupie pointed. "There. Now you get back down on the floor. We don't want anybody to see you."

She did as she was told.

Vittorio drove down the hill and pulled into the parking lot of the main building.

"Let me do this," Cupie said. "And, Barbara, you stay down."

Cupie got out and walked into the building. An attractive woman sat at a large leather-topped desk.

"Buenos dias," she said.

"And to you," Cupie replied. "I wonder if you might have a cottage available?"

"For how many people, senor?"

"Two gentlemen, but we'd prefer separate bedrooms.

"And for how long?"

"One night, possibly two."

She consulted a ledger. "Yes, senor, we have such a cottage available." She quoted a price. "Will you need help with your luggage?"

"No, thank you; we're traveling light." He gave her a credit card and filled out the registration form. "How long a drive to Tijuana?"

"Four to six hours," she replied, "depending."

Depending on kidnappers, crooked cops and bandits, no doubt, Cupie thought.

She handed him two keys. "Will you require a table for dinner?"

"Is room service available?"

"Yes, senor."

"I think we might order in. It's been a long day."

"As you wish, senor. Your cottage is number twelve, the southernmost one. I hope you enjoy your stay."

"Thank you." Cupie returned to the car. "Two bedrooms, and they have room service," he said.

"Can I get up now?" Barbara asked.

"In a minute," Cupie said. "It's the last cottage."

Vittorio drove down a short road and stopped. He and Cupie got out, and Cupie used a key to open the front door. He looked up and down the road. "Okay, Barbara, run for it."

She got out of the car and sauntered into the cottage.

"Not bad," Cupie said, walking in. He looked into the two bedrooms, one on either side of the living room. "This one's yours," he said to her. "Vittorio and I will take the room with the twin beds."

"How disappointing for you," she said. "I know you must have been looking forward to sleeping together."

Twenty-eight

Joe Big Bear wrung out the mop and went over the bedroom of his trailer one more time. It had been a mess, what with bits of dried blood, flesh and brains spattered on the walls, but Joe was a stoic, and he cleaned the place thoroughly. He burned the bedding and the mattress behind the trailer and unloaded the new mattress from his pickup truck. Pretty soon, the place was neat and fresh again, ready for new action.

Action was expensive, though, requiring beer money at the very least, and he was very short of money. The cost of the mattress had reduced his net worth considerably, and he hadn't had any work since his arrest. What he needed was an injection of cash into his life, and enough to keep him going while he rebuilt his business. When he thought of money, his mind went unerringly to Harold, the would-be hit man, sitting up there in the county jail. Joe made a mental note to go see him the following morning.

Cupie, Vittorio and Barbara sat around the table in their cottage, over the remains of a feastlike Mexican dinner, drinking tequila shooters. The atmosphere had grown convivial.

"You know," Barbara was saying, her words only slightly slurred, "you two sons of bitches aren't such sons of bitches after all."

This struck Cupie and Vittorio as hilariously funny, and they collapsed in mirth, pounding the table.

"And you aren't so bad, yourself," Cupie said.

"Not bad at all," Vittorio said, leering at Barbara.

"And to think, a few days ago, you were trying to kill me," Cupie said.

Barbara rested her chin on her hand and frankly returned Vittorio's gaze. "I never tried to kill you, did I?"

"Not yet," Vittorio said, glancing at his watch. "But it's only nine o'clock."

Cupie looked from one to the other. "Well," he said, placing his palms on the table and hoisting himself to his feet, "I think I'm going to turn in." He stretched and yawned for effect.

"Good night, Cupie," Vittorio said.

"Good night, Cupie," Barbara echoed.

They never stopped looking at each other.

Cupie left them, stood in a shower for five minutes, put on a clean pair of pajamas and melted into his mattress. "God help both of them," he said aloud, as he descended into unconsciousness.

ED EAGLE LAY on his back in bed, projecting imaginary movies starring Susannah Wilde onto the ceiling. This was some girl, he thought, and she couldn't have come along at a better moment. She was leaving for L.A. in the morning, but she'd be back as soon as she got moved into her new apartment. He'd see if he couldn't move up the closing on her house for a few days, to get her back even sooner.

He turned over and sought sleep, and something right out of left field popped into his mind: Pep Boys. Why the hell had he thought of that? He tried to trace the thought back to its origins and got as far as his courtroom questioning of Cartwright, in the Joe Big Bear case, but it went back farther than that. He let his mind roam free for Pep Boys references.

Then he sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes wide open. Pep Boys. It was at his first meeting with Joe at the county jail. In his account of his afternoon, on the day of the triple murder, Joe had said that, while working on Cartwright's car, he had had to go to Pep Boys, the auto parts place, for a fan belt. At something like three-thirty in the afternoon. Eagle had been so preoccupied with Barbara's absconding that he had forgotten about it.

Eagle placed Pep Boys in his mind: it was out on Cerrillos Road, a busy commercial thoroughfare, not far from Airport Road. Joe could have gone to Pep Boys, then to his trailer, and he could have been there in five minutes, with good traffic. Then back to Cartwright's, and the whole thing, the triple murder, could have been accomplished in half an hour, tops.

He sank back into bed. Why the hell hadn't he remembered that sooner? Then he thought, "What would I have done if I had thought of it sooner?" He thought about that until he finally fell asleep.

Twenty-nine

CUPIE WOKE UP VERY EARLY, NEEDING THE BATHROOM.

That accomplished, he passed a window on the way back to bed and was struck by what he saw. Barbara and Vittorio were emerging from the Pacific Ocean, hand in hand, laughing and naked. They walked back toward the cottage and flopped down on a blanket, shielded from the view of the rest of the empty beach by a screen of palm fronds. Then Barbara rolled over on top of Vittorio. Cupie went back to bed.

JOE BIG BEAR turned up at the Santa Fe County Correctional Center in time for visiting hours and asked for Harold. Soon they were seated across a table from each other.

"So?" Harold asked, looking at Joe narrowly.

"So, Harold, I think you and I are going to do some business."

"What business? We got no business."

"Listen to me careful, Harold," Joe said. "First of all, I want a phone number for Mrs. Eagle."

"You said she was in Mexico."

"She's coming back, Harold," he lied.

"Why do you want her phone number?"

"Harold, I got friends in this place who would mash you into the ground for twenty bucks. Give me the number."

Harold blinked a couple of times, then recited it from memory.