Santa Fe Dead Read Free Page B

messenger it over here. The D.A. will scream bloody murder, but she always does. Let’s get this thing out of the way.”
    “Yes, Judge, the order will be on your desk when you break for lunch; I’ll have the messenger wait for it.” Karp hung up and called Barbara Eagle.
    Barbara was in the colorist’s chair in the beauty salon when her phone vibrated. “Yes?” she said, warily.
    “It’s Richard. All right, you’re off the hook. I have to write an order and messenger it to the judge for his signature, but you’re a free woman.”
    “Thank God,” Barbara said.
    “No, thank Richard. And you owe me ten thousand dollars.”

4
    EAGLE WENT INTO the bedroom to make some phone calls, then he took a shower, having left the Bel-Air in too much of a hurry for one. He laid his clothes neatly on the bed, along with the small .45 pistol. He was still in the shower when the phone rang once, then stopped.
    He stood under the torrent of water for another couple of minutes, then turned it off, grabbed a towel and dried himself before he stepped out of the shower. He walked back into the bedroom, got a fresh pair of boxer shorts out of his bag and was stepping into them when he heard the gunshot. He looked at his holster on the bed; it was empty.
    Eagle ran to the living room door and stopped. “Susannah?” he called. “Are you all right?”
    “I think so,” she said.
    “Can I come in there without getting shot?”
    “I think so.”
    Eagle stepped into the living room, and then he could see where the gunshot had gone. It was in the chest of a man who was lying on the floor, just inside the front door. He walked over to Susannah and took the gun from her, then led her to the living room sofa and sat her down. “Just take some deep breaths,” he said, stroking her face.
    “The doorman called from downstairs,” she said. “He said Rod, my ex-husband, had walked right past the desk and taken the elevator up before the doorman could stop him. I went into the bedroom for you, but you were in the shower, so I picked up your gun and went to answer the door. When I opened it, he had a gun in his hand; he raised it, and I shot him.”
    “Just sit here quietly and compose yourself,” Eagle said.
    “I’m composed. Is he dead?”
    “I’m going to go find out right now.” He left her, walked to the door and felt for a pulse in the man’s neck. Nothing. There was a bloody hole just left of the center of his chest. “He’s dead.”
    “I thought he might be,” she replied.
    Eagle went back into the bedroom, got his address book and phoned the chief of police, who was a pretty good friend of his.
    “Chief Sams’s office,” a woman’s voice said.
    “This is Ed Eagle. I’m a friend of the chief’s, and I need to speak to him right now.”
    “I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting. Can I have him call you?”
    “Please write a note saying the following: Ed Eagle is on the phone. He says there’s been a shooting, and a man is dead, and he needs to speak with you immediately. Have you got that?”
    “Please hold, Mr. Eagle.”
    Eagle sat and waited. And waited.
    Finally, she came back on the line. “Mr. Eagle, you’re connected with the chief.”
    “Joe?”
    “Hello, Ed. What’s this about a shooting?”
    “I’m at the home of a friend of mine, Susannah Wilde, an actress.”
    “I know who she is.”
    “Her ex-husband has just come to her apartment in Century City, armed, and he was shot. He’s dead.”
    “Did you call nine-one-one?”
    “No, you were my first thought.”
    “Call nine-one-one, and let’s get that on the record. They’ll refer the call to a detective in the precinct that covers Century City, and I’ll speak with the watch commander. Don’t touch anything; wait for the detectives.”
    “Thank you, Joe. I’ll call nine-one-one right now.” Eagle hung up and called the emergency number.
    “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
    “A man has been shot in Century City.”
    “Is he still