Straits of Fortune - Anthony Gagliano [80]
“They might have been,” Reginald said. “They had that look. Oh, and yeah, they left you a card. Hold on.”
He stepped back into the guardhouse. Vivian and I exchanged glances. The sun was more cheerful-looking, having thrown off its white cloak of clouds. I took a sip of coffee. Reggie came out, reached across my body with his outstretched arm, and handed Vivian a business card. I could tell by the tightness of his mouth that he had read the name on it and was trying hard to act unimpressed.
Vivian read the card as we drove away from the gatehouse. I watched the guard through the rearview mirror, wondering if he might already be going for the phone. Vivian put the card on the dashboard.
“Agent Hackbart,” she said. “FBI. Shit. What now?”
“Same as before,” I said, “only quicker. I want to be in and out in ten minutes. Get your key ready.”
“I don’t want to go to jail, Jack.”
“Why not? I thought you liked girls.”
Vivian didn’t say anything. She was leaning forward, looking straight ahead, as though we were on a roller coaster that was sweeping downward at full speed.
The mansion of glass had already captured the sunlight and was sitting quietly on the rise with its glistening back to the sea. The flagpole still had no flag, and the Bentley, still parked outside the garage, was covered with drops of dew. I looked over at the small guesthouse where Dominguez, the Colonel’s chauffeur, lived. His little white Toyota was gone, and the windows were covered with hurricane shutters.
I parked the car behind the massive garage and killed the engine. Vivian watched me intently as I took Space’s .45 out from beneath the seat. Just to be sure, I checked the clip and snapped it back in again. Despite the gun I felt vaguely unarmed, and for a moment I didn’t want to get out of the car.
“Let’s use the back door,” I said. “The one by the pool.”
Vivian followed behind me, her stiletto heels typing away on the pavement. We went quickly along the side of the house, down a path flanked by rosebushes, until we emerged in the backyard. I stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” Vivian asked.
I had expected to see the welcoming, jewel-blue water of the swimming pool just as I had a few days before, but it was empty. The pool had been drained.
“I guess your father doesn’t plan on doing much swimming here for a while,” I said.
My heart beat out a mild version of the fandango as we stepped through the French doors and into the house. I grabbed Vivian’s wrist and put my finger to my lips as I listened to the nothing there was to hear. Then, very quietly, like a pair of thieves, we scurried down the hall that led to the living room and main stairway, and I couldn’t help thinking about the last time I’d raced up a staircase with a gun in my hand. There was a lot more light this time around, yet in another way just as much darkness. It occurred to me that nothing in me had changed.
I shook the thought from my head and turned back to Vivian. Her dark eyes glowed with fear. The sound of her heels clicking on the marble tiles had begun to drive me crazy.
“Take off your shoes,” I said. “You’re making too much damned noise.”
“That gun of yours is making me nervous,” she told me in a tight whisper. “Can’t you put it away? There’s nobody home.”
“Sorry, I don’t believe in concealed weapons,” I said. “Sends the wrong message.”
The faces in the paintings stared at us as we approached Vivian’s bedroom at the end of the hall. The house of glass felt empty, but in a place that big it was hard to tell. Vivian unlocked the door while I stood facing back down the hallway.
Then we were inside. Vivian locked the door behind her while I scanned the room with eyes and gun. The closet door was open, as were most of the drawers, and there were heaps of clothing on the floor just about everywhere you looked. The place had been gone through, no doubt by Williams. Otherwise everything looked as it had a few days earlier: The teddy bear still reigned from atop the satin pillows stacked on the waterbed and the big-bellied brass Buddha was still smoking