18 

ED EAGLE AND HIS WIFE, Susannah, were having an after-work drink.

“We got a hand-delivered invitation this afternoon,” she said, handing it to him.

Ed read it. “Let me get this straight,” he said, “you despise Dax Baxter. Is that right?”

“That is absolutely right,” she replied.

“Then why do you want to go to his wrap party?”

“I don’t want to go to his wrap party,” Susannah said.

“Then what are we talking about?”

“I want to see his house.”

“You don’t want to see Baxter, but you want to see his house?”

“That is correct.”

“I’m baffled here.”

“He bought that barn of a place on a hilltop out at the very end of Tano Road, and I hear the production designer on his film has done it up in a remarkable way.”

“I remember that house,” Ed said. “We went to some charity event there a couple of years ago.”

“That’s right, and it was awful. But the place had good bones, and I want to see what they did with it.”

Ed sighed.

“I want to see the PD’s work. I might want to use him sometime.”

“I understand.”

“There’ll be people there we know, from the business,” she said, “and if we get bored, we can just leave.”

“If we think we’re going to be bored, then we might as well not go.”

“But then we couldn’t see the house. Anyway, it’s a wrap party, so some crew member who no longer has anything to lose might take a swing at Dax. That would be fun, no?”

“That would be fun, yes,” Ed replied. “Okay, we’ll go, but if I tug my earlobe, like this”—he tugged his earlobe—“then we get the hell out of there, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“And if we’re going to the party, you don’t have to cook dinner,” he said.

“That had crossed my mind,” she admitted.

•   •   •

BESIDE THE POOL at the Arrington, in Los Angeles, Stone’s phone rang. “Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Ed Eagle.”

“Hi, Ed.”

“Are you in L.A.?”

“Yes, Ana and I are having a drink out by the pool. Why don’t you and Susannah join us?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like better. I’ll mention it to her. Tonight, however, she’s committed us to go to Dax Baxter’s wrap party for his film crew, studio people, and other hangers-on.”

“Oh, well, that’s one evening shot.”

“I know. Susannah wants to see his new house, which, rumor has it, has been redone by his production designer at studio expense.”

“I suppose that could be interesting.”

“I’m worried about it getting too interesting,” Ed replied.

“How’s that?”

“It occurs to me that Teddy Fay, as a member of Dax’s crew, was probably invited and might be there.”

“Those are reasonable assumptions, I suppose.”

“And as a result, there might be trouble.”

“My knowledge of Teddy is that, when he causes trouble, he does so in a quiet, almost unnoticeable way.”

“You mean that if he offs Dax, nobody will notice?”

“I don’t think Teddy is inclined to off Dax,” Stone replied, “but if he were and did, I think no one would notice, at least until Teddy was well out of it.”

“I wonder why that isn’t comforting,” Ed said.

“There’s a solution to your anxiety about this, Ed.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t go to the party. Read about it tomorrow in the Santa Fe New Mexican. I’m sure they’ll be covering it.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I’ve already told Susannah we’ll go, and such a statement cannot easily be withdrawn, unless I suddenly have an attack of appendicitis, and I’m not that good an actor.”

“Ed, my advice, for what it’s worth, is to go to the party, thereby placating Susannah, then stay the hell away from Dax Baxter, lest he splatters when attacked.”

“That’s not the sort of advice I had in mind,” Ed said, “but I guess I asked for it.”

“You did. Go to the party. Nothing will happen. Teddy will not off Dax. Dax will not splatter, and if you keep the room between you and Dax, you will not be a party to or a witness of anything that might occur. But should Dax somehow expire, you can dine out on the story for months to come.”

Ed sighed. “Are you sure Susannah didn’t speak to you earlier?”

“Not since I left your house.”

“Do you think I should go there armed?”

“Ed, do you feel that going to this party might put your life in danger?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then I would go unarmed. In my experience, people who go to parties armed are just looking for an excuse to shoot somebody. If you don’t go armed, then you will be spared that urge.”

“I guess so.”

“Let me propose an alternative,” Stone said.

“Of course.”

“Is there a fireplace in Dax’s living room?”

“I expect so. Every Santa Fe house has a few fireplaces.”

“In that case,” Stone said, “there will be fireplace tools near the fireplace.”

“I suppose so.”

“And among them will be a poker.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Then stay close enough to the fireplace so that, if trouble starts, you will be able to reach the poker and use it to defend yourself and your gorgeous wife.”

“Got it,” Ed said drily. “Take care.”

“Oh, Ed?”

“Yes, Stone?”

“Should trouble start at the party, make me your first call. I’ll want to hear the gory details.”

“Of course you will, Stone.” Ed hung up.

Susannah came into the room.

“Are we ready to go?” Ed asked her.

“I just have to put on my lipstick,” Susannah replied, digging into her handbag.

Ed knew this to be a ten-minute exercise. “I’ll get the car out of the garage,” he said.

“You do that,” she replied, gazing into the hall mirror.