she made two more calls. One to Max’s publicist, Diane Scarafone in LA, and one to the Desert Oasis Healing Center. She got a voice message at the publicist’s office, and an administrative assistant gave her a canned response at the Healing Center. They did not disclose the names of their clients. She asked to talk to the director, but was told he was “indisposed.”
In the afternoon, as she patrolled the roads of Bajada County, Tess kept an eye out for Max, but didn’t see him.
She’d done all she could.
Chapter Eight
G ORDON W HITE E AGLE tightened his grip on his phone, staring at the Verde Valley below. A massive jolt of adrenaline hurtled through every synapse and nerve. “You did what ?”
“Don’t worry, no one will find them.”
Gordon had to hyperventilate before he was able to squeak out one word: “ Why ?”
“Because they were inept? Because they were greedy? You really get an idea what people are like when they’re staring death in the face, Gordo. You know what that bald guy, Bogart, said?”
“Hogart,” Gordon said automatically. He pressed the phone harder to his ear as he paced around and around the pool, oblivious to the searing sun. The headache lowering over his eyes like a thick black curtain.
“Hogart,” said Shaun. “Good to know. Anyway, after he was done pleading, he tried to bribe us. He said we could take Conroy ourselves and hold him for ransom. He wanted to double-cross you.”
“He wouldn’t have said that if you hadn’t threatened to kill him!”
“I don’t threaten, Gordo.”
Gordon gripped the phone tighter. His fingers were sweating and the cell was slippery in his hand. “This is not what I wanted. I told you to relieve them. I told you to send them back here and I’d pay them. What part of that didn’t you get? The last thing I need is to draw attention to this…this, ah, situation . I’ve got a dead woman on ice and a rock star saying he can’t write songs anymore because I cured his heroin habit and now he’s going to sue me. That’s the kind of crap I deal with on a daily basis, and now you just wantonly shoot two men in the head? For no sane reason I can see?”
“Calm down, Gordo, they’re not gonna be found. This road is miles from anywhere, and the car’s at the bottom of a slag heap. No one’s going to see it.”
Gordon knew, of course, that someone would find them. He only hoped it would be later rather than sooner—and would never be tracked back to him. “Why’d you kill them, Shaun? I don’t understand. Why ?”
“Why? Because they didn’t deserve to live.”
S HAUN LOOKED AT her phone and hit End. Gordon was a hypocrite. She liked him—liked him as much as she liked anybody—but she knew he thought he was better than she was. He kept his hands clean. He didn’t kill anyone. He once told her he was a moral person in an immoral world, and while he appreciated the struggle for the survival of the fittest, he chose not to participate.
He let others do that for him.
In the last three years of their “association”—that’s what Gordo called it—she’d been contracted for two hits. Gordo liked to talk about morality, but he was just as corrupt as his father had been. Her granddad had been Gordon’s father’s closest friend, and it was common knowledge that the high and mighty Eli Gould wasn’t just a successful businessman—he did business with the mob. In fact, he couldn’t get enough of mobsters, inviting them to his house for parties with the movie stars. Her dad said Eli was starstruck by Carmen Fratiano. He even tried to interest Gordon in Fratiano’s niece.
And Gordo sure called her quickly enough when he got himself in trouble. He’d say he “had a situation” that needed taking care of, in that prissy little way he had. Gordo could intimidate movie stars and rock stars, but there were some situations he couldn’t deal with on his own. And that’s where she came in.
Gordo’s favorite
In the afternoon, as she patrolled the roads of Bajada County, Tess kept an eye out for Max, but didn’t see him.
She’d done all she could.
Chapter Eight
G ORDON W HITE E AGLE tightened his grip on his phone, staring at the Verde Valley below. A massive jolt of adrenaline hurtled through every synapse and nerve. “You did what ?”
“Don’t worry, no one will find them.”
Gordon had to hyperventilate before he was able to squeak out one word: “ Why ?”
“Because they were inept? Because they were greedy? You really get an idea what people are like when they’re staring death in the face, Gordo. You know what that bald guy, Bogart, said?”
“Hogart,” Gordon said automatically. He pressed the phone harder to his ear as he paced around and around the pool, oblivious to the searing sun. The headache lowering over his eyes like a thick black curtain.
“Hogart,” said Shaun. “Good to know. Anyway, after he was done pleading, he tried to bribe us. He said we could take Conroy ourselves and hold him for ransom. He wanted to double-cross you.”
“He wouldn’t have said that if you hadn’t threatened to kill him!”
“I don’t threaten, Gordo.”
Gordon gripped the phone tighter. His fingers were sweating and the cell was slippery in his hand. “This is not what I wanted. I told you to relieve them. I told you to send them back here and I’d pay them. What part of that didn’t you get? The last thing I need is to draw attention to this…this, ah, situation . I’ve got a dead woman on ice and a rock star saying he can’t write songs anymore because I cured his heroin habit and now he’s going to sue me. That’s the kind of crap I deal with on a daily basis, and now you just wantonly shoot two men in the head? For no sane reason I can see?”
“Calm down, Gordo, they’re not gonna be found. This road is miles from anywhere, and the car’s at the bottom of a slag heap. No one’s going to see it.”
Gordon knew, of course, that someone would find them. He only hoped it would be later rather than sooner—and would never be tracked back to him. “Why’d you kill them, Shaun? I don’t understand. Why ?”
“Why? Because they didn’t deserve to live.”
S HAUN LOOKED AT her phone and hit End. Gordon was a hypocrite. She liked him—liked him as much as she liked anybody—but she knew he thought he was better than she was. He kept his hands clean. He didn’t kill anyone. He once told her he was a moral person in an immoral world, and while he appreciated the struggle for the survival of the fittest, he chose not to participate.
He let others do that for him.
In the last three years of their “association”—that’s what Gordo called it—she’d been contracted for two hits. Gordo liked to talk about morality, but he was just as corrupt as his father had been. Her granddad had been Gordon’s father’s closest friend, and it was common knowledge that the high and mighty Eli Gould wasn’t just a successful businessman—he did business with the mob. In fact, he couldn’t get enough of mobsters, inviting them to his house for parties with the movie stars. Her dad said Eli was starstruck by Carmen Fratiano. He even tried to interest Gordon in Fratiano’s niece.
And Gordo sure called her quickly enough when he got himself in trouble. He’d say he “had a situation” that needed taking care of, in that prissy little way he had. Gordo could intimidate movie stars and rock stars, but there were some situations he couldn’t deal with on his own. And that’s where she came in.
Gordo’s favorite
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