by Stuart Woods
There were people there: servants, workmen, a pool guy, but he got the lay of the land. There was the large house with an attached garage, then two outer buildings that looked like guesthouses, or maybe servants’ quarters. He found a deer trail that led down from the road to the property and disturbed a large rattlesnake there.
As the sun approached the horizon, people began leaving the Baxter property, and soon the place was deserted. Bill walked down to the house and toured the perimeter. High up on a wall he found the junction box installed by the security company. It was nice of them to label it so visibly, he thought. He found a workman’s ladder and climbed up to it. Twenty minutes of careful work with his Swiss Army Knife and he had the system rigged. When Baxter entered his code, the system would shut down and not come up again.
Using a pair of lock picks he had made from a hacksaw blade and tucked away in his wallet, he picked the lock of a rear door to the house and had a look around. He found the master suite and went into the dressing room and took a pair of socks from a drawer, drawing one onto each hand, then he searched the master bedroom until he found a loaded 9mm semiautomatic pistol in a bedside drawer. There was a round in the chamber, and the hammer was back. Dax wasn’t taking any chances. He replaced the weapon exactly as he had found it, returned the socks to their drawer, and let himself out again.
• • •
BACK AT THE ARRINGTON he went into the kitchen of the cottage and found a pair of rubber dishwashing gloves under the sink, along with a box of large garbage bags. He tucked both items behind a book in the library, and he was having a swim when Sally arrived home, bearing shopping bags, and joined him.
“What’s going to happen now?” she asked.
“We’re going to take a couple of days off, then go back to work,” Teddy replied.
“I take it I’m not supposed to ask.”
“You shouldn’t ask, if you think you wouldn’t like the answer.”
“Once the Dax thing is over, then you’ll be done? We can live normal lives then?”
“When Dax is no longer our concern, we won’t have a care in the world.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” she said.
“I’ll look forward to it, too,” Teddy said.
“Have you always been like this?”
“Like what?”
“Concerned with revenge?”
“I’m not concerned with revenge in the least—only with our safety, particularly yours.”
“I’m glad.”
“It was careless of me to allow us to be taken so easily last time,” Teddy said. “I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again.”
“Why do I have the feeling this isn’t finished?” she asked.
Teddy laughed and kissed her. “Once in a while, a woman’s intuition works overtime and comes up with the improbable.”
“Mine doesn’t do that,” she said. “I’m practically psychic.”
“Sweetheart,” he said, “switch it off for a little while—we’ll both be happier.”
57
AFTER TWO DAYS in bed, Carlos Rivera was released from the hospital, and Chita was there to meet him. She drove him to his apartment, and she sent him inside, then brought her luggage in, along with a shopping bag belonging to Carlos.
“I’m moving in with you,” she said, “until you’re all well.”
“That’s good with me,” he said, kissing her.
“And no sex until the doctor says it’s okay.”
Carlos took her hand and led her into the bedroom. “The bullet struck my sternum, then stopped. No internal damage. The doctor has already said it’s okay.”
“He really said that?” she asked.
“He certainly did,” Carlos said, working on her buttons.
• • •
DAX WORKED ALL afternoon with the writer, eliminating scenes and demanding new ones; adding lines to the male star’s role and eliminating many from his costar. They had a drink at five, then continued for another couple of hours.
“That’s it, Hal,” Dax said, finally. “We’ve got a script. I’ll get it printed out and distributed in the morning.” He reached into a desk drawer, withdrew an envelope, and handed it to Palmer. “Here’s your final check, along with a bonus.”
Palmer thanked him profusely. “I gotta say, Dax,” Palmer said, “you really know how to shape a script. I’m learning a lot from you.”
“A lot of people could learn a lot from me,” Dax replied, “but you’re the only one listening.”
“It’s their loss,” Palmer said.
They had another drink, and Palmer pocketed his check and went home.
• • •
CHITA MADE CARLOS DINNER. “What’s in the shopping bag?” she asked. “The heavy one,” she said, pointing.
“The study materials for the lieutenant’s exam,” he replied.
“You have to take an exam to be a lieutenant?”
“You certainly do, and it’s a big one. My captain says he’s going to promote me to the head of Violent Crimes when my boss retires in a few months, but I have to make lieutenant before that can happen.”
“Then you’ll get a raise?”
“Certainly.”
“I’m due for a raise pretty soon, too. Another producer on the lot has asked me a couple of times to come work for him, but I’ve hesitated.”
“You like working for Dax Baxter that much?”
“It’s not that, it’s just that Dax would view the move as disloyal, and he could make trouble for me on the lot. He’s nothing if not vindictive.”
“Tell him you’ve got a cop boyfriend with a mean streak,” Carlos said, and she laughed.
• • •
STONE AND ANA were having dinner in Santa Fe, at El Nido, near her house. “Listen,” she said, “this has been wonderful, but I’m not going to be able to come back to New York with you.”
“Why not?” He was disappointed.
“Have you noticed that I’ve been on the phone, nonstop, since we got here?”
“I had noticed that,” Stone said.
“Well, that’s what happens when I’m out of town for longer than a day or two—my clients get mad at me because I’m not available, and my staff goes nuts trying to placate them and keep the gravy train moving.”
“Did you ever consider that you might work too hard?”
“I have considered that, deeply, and after a couple more good years I’m going to sell the company and pack it in.”
“Do you think you’d be happy doing nothing?”
“I wouldn’t be doing nothing, I’d just be doing less. I’ll have to consult with whoever buys me out, because I’m the company’s prime asset, but that I can do on the phone. Then I’ll come to New York.”
“Sounds like a long wait,” Stone said.
“The price of success,” Ana said.
• • •
TEDDY LAY ON his back and stared at the ceiling. He was nearly done, he reckoned. This one more thing to do, and he could relax and enjoy the movie business again.
Keeping people from killing him and protecting Sally was hard work, and he was tired of it. The thing about that kind of tired, he remembered—it makes you sloppy, and he couldn’t afford sloppiness. He ran through what he had to do again, to be sure there were no slipups. What he had to do was harder than just eliminating somebody. He had to do it so finally, so definitively that no one would come looking for him, no one would be looking for anybody to hold responsible.
He could leave no tracks.
58
DAX BAXTER DROVE HOME, exhausted. He put his car in the garage, then let himself into the house, entering the alarm code. To his surprise, instead of giving him an “accept” reply, it just went dark. He was about to call the alarm company when it came on again. Power glitch, he said to
himself. He warmed up the dinner the cook had left for him and ate, then went into his bedroom and undressed for bed. He called Chita’s cell number.
“Yes, boss?” she said quickly.
“Listen,” he said, “tomorrow morning, print out the script that’s on my computer and distribute it to production, set design, costumes, and all the other usuals.”
“You sound tired, boss.”
“I’m exhausted and depressed. I always feel this way when a script is finished. I’m not going to come in tomorrow, I’m just going to sleep, probably all day. I’ll turn off the phones, including my cell.”
“See you Monday, then?”
“Right. I’ll feel better when I have some production problems to deal with. Good night.” He hung up and fell into bed.
“He sounded terrible,” Chita said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so down.”
“I guess that’s the price for his kind of success,” Carlos said.
“He’s not going in tomorrow. I can sleep late, if you like. You don’t have to go to the office, do you?”
“I’ve pretty much been ordered not to,” Carlos replied.
“How are you feeling?”
“A little tired. The doctor told me I might feel this way for a few days. Hospitalitis, I guess. My body doesn’t believe I’m out of their clutches yet.”
“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do to distract you. We’ve got the whole weekend ahead of us.”
• • •
TEDDY FAY CALLED his housekeeper. “The police have been at the house,” he said, “and I’m sure they left a mess—tape all over the place, maybe some stains on the carpet. Do the best you can with all that, and we’ll be home sometime over the weekend.” She said she would, and he hung up.
The butler brought them dinner, and they got into bed and watched a movie. Sally fell asleep in the middle, as she often did. Teddy looked at his watch. He couldn’t leave for another couple of hours, and he knew he wouldn’t sleep.
• • •
AT TWO AM he got out of bed, dressed, and went downstairs to Stone’s study. He removed a couple of books from their shelf and removed the items he’d placed there earlier and put them into a plastic duffel.
He left the house and walked to a spot along the fence where he knew there was a gap in the security camera coverage; he tossed his bag over the fence, then climbed over.
He walked down a path to Stone Canyon Road, down the hill for a few yards, then into an employee parking lot for the Bel-Air Hotel. He found a nineties-era, anonymous-looking car and took a minute or two to hotwire it. Then he backed out of the parking space and turned down Stone Canyon to Sunset, then up Beverly Glen Boulevard, all the way to Mulholland Drive.
The night was amazingly clear for L.A., and he saw more stars than usual. The city was a riotous grid of lights, stretching to the Pacific. He’d always loved the sight. He stopped at the Stone Canyon overlook for a while to enjoy the view and to check traffic. He saw two cars, then, for the next half hour, no traffic at all. He started the car and drove until he could see the security lights of Dax Baxter’s house.
He drove a bit farther, then made a U-turn and parked behind some scrub. He checked his pistol for a full clip, pumped a round into the chamber and engaged the safety, then he got out of the car and, using a penlight, walked until he came to the deer path down the mountain. He made his way slowly down the mountainside, and halfway down, he heard a rattlesnake, probably the one he had heard before on the path. He thought about catching it and taking it to Dax as a kind of gift, but the police probably would suspect that someone put the snake inside the house.
He continued down the steep path, until he came to the security perimeter. He knew that he wouldn’t set off any alarms or cameras because he had already disabled them at the security box. Still, he walked the perimeter, checking the house for anyone still up and about, but saw no one. He found the ladder he had used before and set it up so that he could reach the control box quickly on his return.
He slipped out of his shoes, went to the rear door he had entered earlier, and let himself into the house. Then, in his thick, cotton athletic socks he padded here and there in the house to be sure he was alone with Dax.
Satisfied, he stopped outside Dax’s bedroom and removed the trash bag from his duffel. With his Swiss Army knife, he cut a twelve-inch hole in the bottom for his head and two others for his arms, then pulled it over his head. He tied a handkerchief around his neck, so that he could pull it up to cover most of his face.
Thus prepared, he walked into Dax Baxter’s bedroom.
59
TEDDY STOOD SILENTLY and watched the figure in bed. Baxter’s chest rose and fell rhythmically, and he emitted an occasional snore. Teddy pulled up his handkerchief mask and walked over to the bedside. He pulled on his rubber gloves and slowly opened the bedside drawer, revealing the pistol.
Teddy picked up the weapon, slid back the slide far enough to be sure there was still a round in the chamber, then flicked off the safety and held the gun to Dax’s temple. He didn’t wake up—probably had taken a sleeping pill. He reached out with his free hand and pinched the man’s nostrils shut. Dax sucked in a breath through his mouth and opened his eyes.
“Hello, Dax,” Teddy said. “Remember me? Your wife killed my wife, then you covered it up. Welcome to hell.” Teddy saw recognition in his eyes. He squeezed the trigger.
Dax’s body twitched; blood and brain matter sprayed everywhere—over the adjacent pillow, around the bed, and back toward Teddy. Teddy picked up Dax’s empty hand, put a gloved finger into the blood on the pillow and flicked it onto the hand, then he dropped the pistol onto the floor and let Dax’s hand dangle over it.
Teddy made sure that none of the blood had splattered onto his socks, then he backed away from the bed and took a look around. Everything seemed to be in an order the police would find plausible. He went into the bathroom and rinsed the blood from his face, handkerchief, garbage bag, and gloves, walked back to the rear door, opened it with a clean glove, stepped outside, then shed the garbage bag and stuffed it into his duffel. He pulled off the handkerchief, then checked the doorstep for splatter and, finding none, put the handkerchief into the duffel.
He took a few deep breaths, then slipped his feet into his loafers and walked around the house to where the ladder leaned against it. Carefully, clenching his penlight in his teeth, he climbed up, restored the security box wiring to its original state, then closed it, returned the ladder to its usual place, shed the gloves, and put them into the duffel.
He made his way around the house, found the deer trail, and started up the mountainside. He was approaching the road when he heard a distant rumble growing closer. Two Harleys roared around a bend, and he ducked to the ground to avoid their headlamps. He lay there and suddenly, something struck his leg sharply like a punch. Only then did he hear the rattle and feel the sharp fangs in his left calf.
He made a grab for the snake and caught it a few inches below the head, then he grabbed it with both hands and squeezed with all his might. The animal writhed, and it was very strong; he got his legs around it to hold it still, then increased the pressure on the neck with both hands. Nearly a minute elapsed before the creature went limp.
Teddy got to his feet, hoisted his trouser leg and inspected the wound, then he went into the duffel, removed the spattered handkerchief, and used it to make a tourniquet around his leg, below the knee and not too tight. He knew the venom, if the snake had not struck a vein, would move upward in the tissue just under the skin. He checked his watch: two thirty-five. He had to move fast.
He grabbed the snake and the duffel, got back to the car, tossed the duffel onto the front seat and the snake onto the passenger floor, then started the car and drove away. Twenty minutes later he turned into the Bel-Air employees’ parking lot, put it into its original parking space, and retur
ned the ignition wiring to its original state. He grabbed the duffel and the snake and got out of the car, glancing at his watch. Nearly twenty-five minutes since the snakebite, and the pain and burning were very bad.
He got across the road and trotted up the path along the fence until he came to the place where he had crossed before. He slung the duffel over the fence, but the snake was harder to deal with. It was about five feet long, thick and heavy, several pounds. He grasped it near the rattles, swung it around his head a couple of times and flung it over the fence. It hung up on the top.
With some difficulty, Teddy climbed over the fence, freeing the snake as he went. On the other side he stopped to rest for a moment, then made his way back toward the cottage. On the drive back he had formulated a plan, and now he executed it.
He dropped the dead snake near the pool, next to a chaise, where he had left his robe that afternoon, then he stripped off his clothes, went into the house, through the kitchen, into the laundry room. He emptied his pockets, stripped and stuffed his clothes into the washing machine, along with the garbage bag, gloves, and handkerchief, then turned on the cold water and started it, no soap.
He took his phone and trotted back to the pool area, slipping into his robe, then he called 911. His leg was swelling badly and throbbing, and he noticed that his lips were feeling numb.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
“I’ve been bitten by a large rattlesnake, and I can’t walk on my leg. I need an ambulance and anti-venom immediately.” He gave her his name and the address of the hotel. “I’ll let security at the gate know to let the ambulance in.” He hung up, called the gate on the house phone on the table beside his chaise and gave them instructions. He hobbled to the pool, jumped in and made sure his body and hair were free of blood and debris, then he toweled off and called Sally’s cell phone. She took three rings to answer.