“But right in scale with the room,” Susannah said. “It must be thirty by fifty feet.”
“Come to think of it,” Ed said, “I’ve never seen this many sofas in one place, outside a hotel lobby.”
The room was half filled with people in Western outfits and more were arriving.
“They must be casting a musical number in a Roy Rogers movie,” Ed said, looking over the crowd.
They passed through the living room, pausing to shake the hand of an acquaintance here and there.
“There,” Susannah said, pointing to a clot of people surrounding a short, balding man crammed into a cowboy outfit. “That’s Drake Shelbourne, the production designer,” she said. “I have to speak to him.”
Ed allowed himself to be maneuvered through the crowd.
“Susannah!” Shelbourne cried, as if she had come to rescue him.
“Hello, Drake,” Susannah said, leaning down and allowing herself to be kissed on both cheeks. “This place looks fabulous! It’s the only reason we’re here.”
Shelbourne broke up. “Me, too!” Susannah introduced him to her husband.
“I picked him out of the crowd,” Shelbourne said, reaching up to shake his hand. “He’s what, seven feet tall?”
“Only six-foot-eight,” Susannah replied.
Ed sighed and shook the man’s hand. “It was the only way I could get a college basketball scholarship. Nice job on the house, Drake. It was dreadful, before you came along.”
“That’s the God’s truth,” Shelbourne said. “I stripped it to the plaster everywhere. Now it at least looks as if a human being lives here—or maybe a dozen human beings. Check out the patio.” He pointed to another set of double doors across the room.
They moved in that direction, stopping at the bar to acquire refreshments. The patio was large, with a pile of rocks making a water feature, a jazz trio playing, and, in one corner, one of Dan Ostermiller’s wonderful bear sculptures, a bronze of a full-sized animal climbing a tree.
“I saw that at Nedra Matteucci’s gallery,” Ed said, “and I wanted it, but it cost more than my car.”
“You can probably buy it from Dax Baxter for half that after the party. The word is, he’s strapped for cash, and I have a feeling that everything here will be for sale tomorrow.”
? ? ?
TEDDY AND SALLY made their entrance to the party a few minutes later and had much the same reaction to the house as had the Eagles.
“This place is the size of a sound stage,” Teddy commented.
“I was going to say a high school gymnasium,” Sally replied, “but I’ll buy sound stage.”
They had been there for less than a minute when Teddy spotted the Russian.
20
DIMITRI KASOV STOOD, immobile, scanning the crowd. He had apparently not spotted Teddy yet.
Teddy stepped behind Sally.
“Are you about to pinch my ass?” she asked.
“A good idea,” he replied, “but not at the moment. I’m using you for cover.”
“Cover from what?”
“Do you see the short, thickset guy standing by the fireplace in a black hat?”
“Yes, what about him?”
“The black hat is appropriate. He’s a Russian from L.A. called Dimitri Kasov. There was a rumor going around this afternoon that Dax had sent for him.”
“I didn’t hear the rumor. Is he some sort of post-production expert? Who is he and what does he do?”
“As Dan put it to me, he makes people disappear.”
“So he’s a magician, here for the floor show?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what do you mean, he makes people disappear?”
Teddy didn’t answer that. “Let’s move to our left, out to the patio, and keep yourself between me and the Russian.”
“Ted, ah, Billy, what’s going on?”
“I’ll explain it on the patio.” They maneuvered outside, and the air was cool and crisp.
“You’re starting to alarm me,” Sally said.
“I don’t mean to, I’m just being cautious.”
“Good evening, Ted,” a deep voice behind them said.
Teddy turned to find Dax Baxter standing there, wearing a buckskin suit, like Buffalo Bill, and a ten-gallon Stetson.
“Good evening, Dax,” Teddy said. “Wonderful party, and the house is beautiful.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Dax said.
“Did you really get this done in just a few days?”
“I’m an impatient person, so I got it done in a hurry.”
“Beautiful job,” Sally said.
“Thank you, Sally,” Dax replied. “You did a good job for me. You’ll find my gratitude expressed in your final paycheck.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.”
“Excuse me,” Dax said. “I have to speak to someone.” He went back into the house.
“No need to hide from the Russian now,” Teddy said.
“What’s changed?” Sally asked.
“Dax is telling him where I am right now. I guess this is as good a place as any,” he said, looking around the patio. “Sally, I’d appreciate it very much if, instead of asking questions, you’d just go and get into the truck.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on,” she said.
“All right. Dax has hired the Russian to either kill me or hurt me very badly. He’s on the way out here to do one of those things right now.”
“I’ll wait in the truck,” she said, “unless you’d like me to throw myself between you.”
“No, I wouldn’t like that. Please go now. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“I’m going to call the cops,” she said.
“If you do, they’ll arrest me, instead of the Russian,” Teddy said. “Now get out of here.” He slapped her on the ass, propelling her toward the front of the house.
Teddy looked around. Ed and Susannah Eagle, who had been looking at a bronze bear, were on their way back into the house, leaving him alone on the patio. He went and stood by the tree the bear was climbing.
Dimitri Kasov appeared in the doorway, stopped, and had a look around.
Teddy bent down and retrieved the switchblade from his ankle. “I believe you’re looking for me,” he said across the expanse of the patio.
“Ah,” Kasov said. “You’ve heard.”
“Everybody has heard, Mr. Kasov. When we’re done here, one of us will leave in an ambulance, the other with the police. You get to choose which one you want to be.”
Kasov’s right hand went behind him to the small of his back.
Teddy hoped it wouldn’t come out holding a gun; a knife, he had reason to know, wasn’t much use in a gunfight.
Kasov’s hand emerged holding a straight knife with about an eight-inch blade. “You were expecting a gun, maybe?”
“No.” Teddy flicked open the switchblade but kept it at his side.
“It won’t hurt much,” Kasov said, taking a step forward. Then, instead of using the knife, he aimed a kick at Teddy’s head.
Teddy moved his head enough for the kick to miss, then grabbed Kasov by the ankle and made a swift cut through his jeans and the back of his calf. Then he shoved Kasov backward while holding onto his ankle. Kasov fell to the stone floor.
“You were wrong,” Teddy said. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”
Kasov crawled out of reach, spider-like. He took off his belt and wrapped it around his thigh above the knee, then jerked it tight. “If you’re going to kill me, do it at the throat,” he said.
“I haven’t decided,” Teddy said, “but I’ll tell you this for a fact. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you. Now, your best move is to get yourself to your car, drive back to highway 284, then to St. Francis Drive and follow the signs to the hospital. Do you think you can manage that without causing a disturbance?”
“I can manage,” Kasov said, getting awkwardly to his feet and hobbling toward the outdoor exit from the patio, while holding tightly to the end of his belt.
Teddy watched him go, then he wiped his blade with a tissue, folded it, and stuck it back into his boot.