Arizona Dreams (David Mapstone Mystery 4)

“I hope the holidays are good for you and Miss Lindsey,” he said. “And the charming Miss Robin.”

“You’re lucky the sheriff hasn’t arrived yet,” I said.

He made his clucking sound. “I have no fear of the sheriff,” he said. “Although not all our elected officials are so trustworthy. That unfortunate Tom Earley comes to mind, and his Lady Macbeth, Dana.”

“I suppose.”

“You are quite the hero,” he went on, “bringing them to justice. You know, Dr. Mapstone, it surprises me that you would prefer a martini to fin

e wine.”

“It’s just a character flaw,” I said, wanting to sidle toward the door.

“So much history in wine,” he said, taking a dainty sip. “Ancient Persia was renowned for its wine, you know. And this collection! For the gods!”

He walked closer. “You and I, we have so many connections. I do savor them, rather like I savor this 1984 cabernet.”

“I try not to dwell on them.”

“David,” he said. “I wanted to thank you. For Arizona Dreams.”

I put the glass down as slowly as if it were nitroglycerine. “What are you talking about?”

“It will be in the papers tomorrow,” he said. “I made an offer to the creditors, and it’s been approved by the bankruptcy court. Nobody has an interest in this being dragged on forever, not the least some very prominent Arizonans who were involved as investors. Some of them are out there on the terrace tonight. You remember how I said things just seem to happen in Phoenix, and nobody ever knows quite why.”

“There’s no water, Bobby,” I said. “It’s worthless desert.”

“That may be, Dr. Mapstone,” he said. “But it may not always be. Mr. Malkin was a con man, a—what is that fabulous term?—a grifter. But he also knew the way Arizona works. So I can be patient, and the creditors can get at least a few pennies on the dollar. And someday, when the time is right, the water rules will be changed and who knows how valuable the land will be?”

“I didn’t realize you were into land speculation, Bobby.”

“It’s just a little subsidiary of my interests,” he said, his eyes glittering. “The headquarters is actually at my office in Malibu. I call it Tonopah Trinity LLC.”

Suddenly I felt as if half of each lung had collapsed.

“You.” It was all I could say.

He smiled, his perfect dental work surreally white against his swarthy skin.

“You bought the Bell property.”

“They were unfortunately behind in their taxes,” he said. “I paid them, and acquired the parcel.”

“And this mysterious sugar daddy in Malibu that Jared Malkin kept talking about…”

“Do you know he was once a star of pornographic cinema?” Bobby said.

I shook my head. “You. I should have known. With a body count like this, I should have known.”

The smile disappeared. “I killed no one,” he said. “I let them do that for me. I think Dana would have eventually killed her lover Jared. A nasty little woman, if I may say. Adam Perez was a useful strong arm with a taste for sadism.”

“Bobby Hamid’s game,” I said. “And we’re all just players. The kid in the school bus was a player, too, right? I should have known that beating was the signature Bobby Hamid treatment.”

“Now, Dr. Mapstone, let’s not be rash.”

“Rash?” Now I closed the distance between us. I wasn’t shouting, but my voice sounded foreign to me. “Rash?”

“Don’t forget that I saved your life, David.” He stared at me with eyes that were as black and dead as obsidian.