Genuine Lies

Jules. We’ve got a trap to spring.”
    Haffner lit a cigarette, then leaned up against the bar of the big white “H.” He liked it up there. It was a nice, quiet place to do business. He kicked aside an empty can of diet Coke and wondered how many babes had opened the gates of paradise right here on this spot.
    The lights were twinkling on in the basin below. But up there, if you waited long enough, if you were quiet enough, you might hear a far-off coyote call to the moon that had just begun to rise.
    Haffner thought he might just take his profits and go on a camping trip. Yosemite, Yellowstone, Grand Canyon. He’d always gotten a kick out of nature. And he’d have earned a vacation, mostly honestly. Expert witnesses got paid all the time. It just so happened his fee was stiff.
    He heard the car engine and tramped out his cigarette, moving away from the sign and into the shadows. If Winthrop or the lady tried to pull anything, he’d slip back to where he’d hidden his car and be gone.
    They came in silence, walking close. The satchel in Paul’s hand had Haffner grinning. Smooth as silk, he thought. Smooth as fucking silk.
    “He’s not here.”
    The strain in Julia’s voice almost made Haffner feel sorry for her.
    “He’ll be here.”
    She nodded, her head twisting this way and that. “Maybe we should have called the police. It’s dangerous, coming up here alone.”
    “All he wants is the money,” Paul said soothingly. “Let’s play it his way.”
    “Good thinking.” Haffner stepped toward them. He threwup a hand to shield his eyes from Paul’s flashlight, and chuckled. “Aim it low, son, no need to blind me.” “Haffner?”
    “That’s my name. Well, well, Julia. Good to see you again.”
    She slid her hand inside her purse as she studied him. “I know you. I’ve seen you.”
    “Sure you have. I’ve been following you for weeks. A little job for a client. I’m a P.I. Well, used to be.”
    “In the elevator, outside of Drake’s office. And in the airport at Sausalito.”
    “Good eye, honey.”
    “Who are you working for?” Paul demanded.
    “Who
was
I working for? My services are no longer required, seeing as Eve’s dead and Julia here’s up to her pretty neck.”
    Paul gripped Haffner’s cotton shirt, ripping seams. “If you had anything to do with Eve’s murder—”
    “Hold it, hold it. You think I’d be here if I did?” He held out both hands, still grinning. “All I did was some shadowing for an interested party.”
    “Who?”
    Haffner thought it over. “Seeing as I’m not on the payroll anymore, it couldn’t hurt to tell you. Kincade, Anthony Kincade. He wanted me to keep a real close eye on you, Julia. The book you and Eve were working on had him sweating bullets.”
    “The notes,” she said. “He was sending the notes.”
    “I don’t know anything about any notes. He wanted you tailed, wanted to know everyone you talked to. Bought me some real nice surveillance equipment, so I was able to listen in on some of the interviews. Juicy stuff. That’s a real kicker about DuBarry having an abortion. Who’d have thought? I followed you after you left her house. You were pretty erratic that day, Julia. Musta had a lot on your mind. Then I drove around the estate, and—” He paused, grinned. “I’ll be glad to tell you all about that. After I see the money.”
    Paul shoved the satchel at him. “Count it.”
    “Come on, friend.” Haffner set the case on a rock and popped it open. After pulling out a penlight, he shined it over the stacks of bills. Manna from heaven. “I trust you. After all, we’re just doing each other a little favor.”
    “You said you saw someone else on the estate that day,” Julia prompted. “How could you have gotten in? Joe was at the gate.”
    “Guys like me aren’t usually invited through gates in Beverly Hills.” Enjoying himself, Haffner pulled out a roll of fruit-flavored candy. He crunched down on one. Julia smelled oranges. “I spotted a car by the wall. Made me curious. So I climbed up on the roof, took a peek over, and guess what I saw?” He looked from Julia to Paul. “No guesses? I saw Drake Morrison limping his way across the putting green. Hell, imagine having a putting green right in your yard.”
    “Drake?” Julia clutched at Paul’s hand. “You saw Drake?”
    “He was a mess,” Haffner continued. “Guess he’d taken a tumble going over the wall. These executive types aren’t athletic.”
    “What