11 

ON SUNDAY MORNING, Teddy got a call. “Hello?”

“Billy,” Stone said, “it’s Stone Barrington. You free for lunch?”

“Sure, Stone.”

“Let’s meet at the Tesuque Market at noon, if that’s okay.”

“It’s right in my backyard,” Teddy said.

•   •   •

“YOU LOOK FIT and well rested, Billy,” Stone said after they had gotten a table and a menu.

“I feel a lot better than I’d hoped to,” Teddy said. He looked a little embarrassed. “I’ve even got a girl.”

“Good for you!”

“I would never have thought it could happen this fast, but I’ve no complaints at all. She’s a lovely person, works on the shoot, name of Sally Ryder.”

“I hope to meet her one of these days,” Stone said.

“She’s picking me up here at one o’clock. We’re taking a hike up in the hills, so you’ll meet her.”

“I’ll look forward to that,” Stone said. “Tell me, how’s the shoot going?”

Teddy pulled a mock frown. “Not as well as could be expected,” he said. “Lots of small problems are slowing us down and costing Mr. Baxter money of his own. He has a contract price with the studio, as it turns out, and any delays or reshoots come out of his own pocket.”

“That must hurt,” Stone said.

“Not only that, but we could lose our leading man and have to start over, since he’s in practically every scene we’ve shot. Baxter is paying another actor half his usual salary, just to have him standing by.”

“Can the leading man get away with just walking off the movie?”

“I expect there’ll be litigation, or the threat of it,” Teddy said. “But who knows?”

“In the meantime, Baxter loses everything he’s shot and everything he’s already paid the leading man?”

Teddy nodded. “I hear it could cost Baxter upwards of two million dollars, when you add in the extra shooting days. He has to pay the whole crew for those.”

“And what sorts of things are causing these problems?”

“Tiny things that seem to just come out of the woodwork,” Teddy said. “If it keeps up, it could cost Baxter his fee for producing the film. Of course, he’d still have his profit participation, but I hear Dax is a big spender, lives close to the edge. He’s already bought a big house in Santa Fe, and found a way to redo it at the studio’s expense, and they somehow found out about it and are demanding their money back. Word is, he’s borrowing against the contract for his next production to make ends meet.”

“And how long do you expect this to go on, Billy?”

“Me? I have no expectations, I just do my job every day, and my boss is real happy with me.”

“You’re probably better at it than your boss,” Stone said.

“I’m better at it than Dax Baxter,” Teddy replied. “If I weren’t so happy with Peter and Ben, I’d probably go independent, like Baxter, and make a fortune. My tastes aren’t as expensive as his.”

“What’s with the pickup truck you’re driving, Billy?”

“Oh, I rented that from a fellow I met. I think a new Cayenne might cause some talk among the crew. It’s safely garaged.”

“Billy, don’t you think you may have taken enough out of Dax Baxter’s hide?”

“Oh, I just go with the flow, do what I can. I’m not pressing myself.”

“Ed Eagle and I are both concerned that this whole thing might blow up into something bigger than you’d counted on. Ed’s worried about the effect a production disaster could have on the state film commission, and the money they’ve got tied up in it. He was instrumental in getting the commission established and funded by the state legislature, and a lot of people’s jobs could be affected if the film were shut down. It would make it more difficult to attract new productions if the town seemed jinxed for moviemakers.”

“Well, Dax seems to have a gift for pulling back from the edge just before disaster strikes,” Teddy said, “and I expect he’ll manage that in this case—maybe even get a good picture out of it.”

“But it’ll cost him?”

“That would be my best guess,” Teddy said. “Oh, here comes Sally.”

Stone looked up to see a trim, mostly blond woman approaching. “You’ve done well, Billy,” he said.

“Sally,” Teddy said, rising, “this is an old friend, Stone Barrington. We knew each other in New York.”

Sally offered him a hand. “Hello, Stone.”

“How do you do?” Stone asked, taking the hand. “Will you join us for a minute? Before your hike?”

“Sure.”

Stone pulled up a chair for her. “Margarita?”

“They’re too big here—I might fall off a mountain.”

“I’m staying sober, too,” Teddy said, sipping his diet soda.

“Where are you hiking?” Stone asked.

“I thought I’d show Ted the Bandelier National Monument, up Los Alamos way.”

“I’ve heard good things about it,” Stone said. “Refresh my memory.”

“Upwards of thirty thousand acres, dwelling ruins going back eleven thousand years, plenty of wildlife, gorgeous scenery. Why don’t you join us?”

“Thanks, I’m not dressed for it, and I have to fly to L.A. on business in a little while.”

“Another time, then.”

“Maybe, who knows?”

The two of them excused themselves and went on their way.

Stone drove back to the Eagles’ house and packed his things, then went to say goodbye to his hosts. Ed was alone in his study.

“Did you put the fear of God into Teddy?” he asked.

“I don’t think anything could put the fear of God into Teddy,” Stone replied. “Still, I managed to convey that there might be unintended consequences for others, if he goes too far.”

“Do you think he’ll do that?”

“No, I don’t. So far he’s managed to put Dax Baxter into a world of trouble by doing small things to slow him down. Apparently, his contract calls for Baxter to personally pick up costs over and above the agreed budget, and Teddy is bleeding him in small ways.”

“As long as he doesn’t hurt anybody,” Eagle said.

“I don’t think Teddy gets mad,” Stone said. “He just gets even.”