Straits of Fortune - Anthony Gagliano [79]
“How much do you want?” she asked. Her eyes were bright as coins.
“Well, there’s the fifty grand you still owe me for the dead-body removal. We’ll have to double that because of Mr. Duncan, of course. But as the new enforcer in this little operation, I’ll have to be an equal partner. I get a third of the profits. What do you say to that?”
She kissed me. “Jack,” she said, “there’s hope for you after all.”
“More than you think. Roll over. It’s my turn on top.”
THREE
I AWOKE JUST BEFORE DAWN and got dressed in the dark. I was still tired but felt fairly close to form. Then I woke Vivian. She turned over onto her back and blinked her eyes, and I recalled that, like most night stalkers, she was not a particularly pleasant person in the morning. She sat up in bed and looked around.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Up in Hollywood. The Holiday Inn. Your brother’s down the hall.”
“What time is it?”
“About five-thirty.”
She noticed then that I was dressed. “Where are you going?”
“Not just me. You, too. We’re going to the mansion to get the disk.”
“It’s not on a disk,” she said after a yawn. “It’s on one of those little portable hard drives.”
“Whatever. We’re going to go find it. Get dressed.”
“It’s too early. Come back to bed.”
“Get up.”
“What about Nick?” she asked.
“Let him sleep. We’ll pick him up on the way back.”
“I need a shower,” she said. “I smell like sex.”
“Later. Hurry up.”
“You’re worse than Williams.”
“I need to be. You’re worse than us both.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her dress, which was nearly as much fun as watching the reverse. It didn’t take her long; she traveled light: a pair of black thong panties, no bra, and the black party dress so incongruous in the innocent morning light. Vivian watched me watching her and smiled like the succubus she was. She reveled in her body the way a rich man revels in gold. The smooth skin, the breasts like minarets on a mosque, the fluted ribs lined now with shadow, now with light, the flat belly with just a trace of muscle visible. The black dress went on over her head, and she moved her hips from side to side as it slid over her ass. Maybe she’s right, I thought. Maybe it is too early.
It was Sunday morning, and the traffic heading south was light. The sun, in a haze of cirrus clouds, rose slowly, red-eyed and sluggish in the east, as though unsure whether daylight was worth the effort. Vivian begged me to stop for coffee, so I pulled in to the same gas station where I’d stopped the night before and got one of those giant-size cups full of java while Vivian half dozed in the front seat of the car by one of the pumps.
We made Sunset Beach in twenty minutes. A sleep-deprived young guard in a uniform with a gold braid looped around one shoulder stepped out from his little box, in which a small TV set was flickering on a counter next to a thermos. He walked over to the driver’s side with his clipboard in front of his chest, leaned down, pen in hand.
“Hey, Seth,” Vivian said. “Long night?”
“There’s no other kind, Ms. Patterson. Not for me.”
“You don’t happen to know if Williams is home, do you?” she asked.
“Haven’t seen Mr. Williams in two or three days, not since your father left.”
“Thanks, Reggie,” Vivian said, her eyes twinkling the promise of a time that would never come. “Do me a favor, okay? If Mr. Williams should come by while we’re here, give me a call at the house, would you?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks, I really appreciate that,” she told him.
I was just about to hit the gas when Reggie thought of something else.
“Hey, I forgot to tell you: Three guys came by here last night.”
“Who?” I asked. Seth looked annoyed. He’d been speaking to Vivian. Still, he answered anyway.
“They didn’t say, but they looked kind of official, if you know what I mean. I told them nobody was home.”
“They look like cops?” I asked.
The guard eyed me skeptically. He was wondering who the hell I was to be asking him questions. Vivian picked up on it.
“This is my