Stone Barrington 27 - Doing Hard Time

silent for a moment. “Yes, you can,” she said.
    “Tell him this: that the phone number I gave you has been disconnected and that I said I was checking out of Shutters and headed back East.”
    “All right.”
    “Something else: there is a man registered at the New Desert Inn called Majorov.”
    “I’ve met him. I didn’t like him.”
    “I’ll tell you why later, but it is important that he never hear the name Billy Burnett. When you next come to L.A., I’ll give you another name to use.”
    “This is very intriguing,” she said.
    “We’ll see how good an intelligence agent you can be,” Teddy said. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you next week.” He broke the connection.

When Charmaine finished her shift she went to Pete Genaro’s office and knocked on the door. He waved her to a seat.
    “Tell me what you’ve learned about Billy Burnett,” he said.
    She repeated the biographical information Billy had given her, then she took a deep breath. “I’m afraid he may have left L.A.”
    Genaro’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”
    “He told me he was checking out of the hotel, and when I asked where he was going, he said, ‘Back East.’ He said he’d be in touch. I tried to call him a few minutes ago, and the number had been disconnected, like the earlier one.”
    “Do you believe he actually left L.A.?”
    “I don’t have any reason not to think so.”
    “How did the two of you get along?”
    “Okay, I guess. We had dinner, then went back to his hotel, which was Shutters. I stayed the night.”
    “Did you have sex?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did he enjoy it?”
    “I believe so.”
    “Then why would he abandon you after such a short acquaintance?”
    “I don’t know. I’m baffled.”
    “Our Billy is a slippery character,” Genaro said. He threw up his hands. “Well, if he doesn’t want to know us, he doesn’t want to know us. Thanks, honey, you did your best.”
    Charmaine left Genaro’s office wondering if her story had worked.
    •   •   •
    Teddy got settled in his new apartment, did some grocery shopping, and picked up a copy of a local magazine. On a rear page was an ad for a tour of Centurion Studios.
    •   •   •
    In Phoenix the young man keeping watch on the FlightAware screen saw the red light from the GPS locator go off, then, a few minutes later it went on again, this time at a street corner in downtown Santa Monica. He called Igor’s cell phone and got voice mail, left a message, then called his hotel and was told there was no reply from the room. He left a message there, then hung up. The GPS marker was still at the same location. He checked a map of Los Angeles and found that the dot was at Shutters.
    •   •   •
    Later that morning a maid knocked on the door of Smolensky’s room, then went inside and cleaned it. She thought it odd that he had gone out but left what appeared to be the contents of his pockets on the dresser—money, wallet, what appeared to be keys. She called the front desk and reported what she had found.
    The desk clerk sent a bellman to the room, and he confirmed the maid’s story. Then an assistant manager visited the room and noted that a parking ticket for the hotel garage was among Smolensky’s belongings, and that he would have needed it to leave the garage. The car keys were missing, but a check of the garage showed the car was still there. Three hours later, when Smolensky had not returned to his room, the assistant manager reported the information to the manager, who called the police.
    Two hours passed before a pair of detectives visited the hotel, talked to the manager and the maid, looked at Smolensky’s room, then at his car.
    “Can we open the trunk without a warrant?” one of the men asked the other.
    “If we have reason to fear for Smolensky’s life.”
    “Okay, I fear for his life, how about you?”
    “I fear for his life, too.” They got a crowbar from their car and pried open the trunk.
    •   •   •
    In Phoenix, Igor’s secretary came into his office and spoke to the young man watching the computer screen. She looked shaken. “The Los Angeles Police just called,” she said. “Igor is dead. They found him in the trunk of his rental car in the garage at Shutters. You should talk to them on line two.”
    The young man went to Igor’s desk and picked up his phone. A long conversation ensued, during which he was asked a lot of questions he couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. As