Free The Prince of Beverly Hills by Stuart Woods Page B

hardball ammo. The targets were on a pulley system and he moved one in to about twenty-five feet, figuring that was as far as he was likely to have to shoot. He fired a magazine into the target, then pulled it in for inspection. His group covered a good twelve-inch spread. He was going to have to improve on that.
    He spent the rest of the afternoon improving, until he was down to a four-inch group. It wasn’t great, but he reckoned he could put seven rounds into a man’s chest, if he had to.

13

    RICK LEFT HIS OFFICE at six o’clock and departed the studio through the main gate. Immediately, he thought he had made a mistake. A black sedan containing two men in suits and hats pulled away from the curb across the street and fell in behind him.
    Rick tried to keep track of the big car in the mirror without turning his head, so they wouldn’t know he was on to them. When he sped up, the black car sped up; when he slowed, it slowed. He was approaching a traffic signal, and when it turned red, he plowed through the intersection, narrowly missing a large truck. He checked the mirror and saw the car blocked by crossing traffic, and he took an immediate left, then another, and finally turned back toward his original route. He stopped at a corner, got out of the Ford and looked down the street. The light changed, and he saw the black car drive through the intersection.
    He got back into the Ford and made the next left, putting him back on his route, then he stopped the car and waited five minutes by his watch. The men in the black car would be looking for him in the side streets, so he continued on his way home, checking the mirror often for signs of the black car. He did not want Stampano’s people to know where he lived.
    He made his way to Bel-Air without the attentions of the two men, went home, changed and then drove up Sunset, toward Doheny and the girls’ apartment house. He collected Marla and Carla without incident and drove up into the hills toward Clete’s place.
    “Why are you looking in the mirror all the time?” Marla, who was sitting in the front seat, asked.
    “I like to know who’s behind me,” Rick said. “Do you two girls live together?”
    “We do everything together,” Marla said.
    “Are you related?” he asked.
    “We’re twins,” Marla replied.
    “You don’t look all that much alike.” Marla was a blonde, Carla a redhead.
    “We’re fraternal twins, not identical,” Marla said.
    “Oh.” Rick turned into Clete’s drive and got the girls out of the car and into the house.
    Clete greeted them, martini pitcher in hand. “Just in time,” he said, stirring furiously. He began pouring the drinks, then looked at Rick. “I know; you’re going to want bourbon, aren’t you?”
    “If you’ve got it,” Rick said. “I never acquired the taste for martinis.”
    Clete handed the girls their drinks, then rummaged in a cabinet until he came up with an unopened bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “This do?”
    “That will do just fine.” Clete handed him the bottle, and he poured his own drink.
    “Happy days,” Clete said, raising his glass.
    He led them out onto the terrace, and they took seats. Marla and Clete were being especially affectionate, having broken the ice on the previous occasion.
    Carla sat down next to Rick on a sofa and turned to him. “Are you queer?” she asked pleasantly.
    “What?”
    “I mean, it’s all right if you are. I have nothing against pansies; half the men at the studio are pansies.”
    “I’m not queer,” Rick said.
    “Then what was the problem last night?”
    In fact, he wasn’t sure what the problem had been last night. God knew, the girl was lovely, and he wasn’t in the habit of avoiding sexual opportunity. “I just broke up with somebody,” he said. And that might even have something to do with it, he thought. He missed Kathleen, but she was out of his reach now, probably in a convent somewhere.
    “Oh,” she cooed, putting her hand on his arm.