Agua Caliente, Arizona heard disturbing notes of a distant song drift up from Gila Bend.
If the hotel’s restaurant manager had killed the woman with black hair in the long white dress like he was supposed to, his own life would have been spared.
Now she was gone again.
After the Maybach sailed out of the parking lot at the Hotel Bel-Air, they lost it in traffic on Hilgard Avenue in Westwood.
Normally, this wouldn’t have happened. But whoever drove the Maybach knew what they were doing. Even in a one-horse town like Agua Caliente, Arizona she would have given them the slip.
That’s what they told their boss when they called. He tapped his fountain pen on the desk and quietly seethed.
