“I’d like to make a prediction,” Croft said. “Nobody is ever going to convict that woman of anything.”

They drove down the driveway to the road. “We may as well go back to San Francisco for the night,” Morales said. “It’s only an hour and a half or so, and we’re done here.”

“So I won’t need my new shirt and shorts?”

“No. By the way, did you notice that the Impala driven by the man from San Francisco was still parked in the side road?”

“Will you stop it with this observation crap, Chico? There’s no way that guy could have got here and changed cars!”

Billy Burnett saw them head back toward St. Helena, and he continued to wait quietly for darkness to fall.

Chapter 43

Morales and Croft got back to their hotel, cleaned up, then went back to the Huntington Hotel bar and settled down with drinks. Five minutes later, two very attractive young women who appeared to be in their early thirties came in and took the only two stools vacant, which happened to be right next to Croft.

“Evening,” Croft said. “Can I get you two ladies a drink?”

The two looked him up and down, then one of them said, “Why not? Two Tito’s martinis, straight up, with a fistful of olives.”

The drinks arrived, and everyone toasted and drank. “I’m Stockton Croft, and this is my partner, Chico Morales.”

“I’m Pam Hale, and this is Sherry Tate,” the blonder of the two said. “What are you two partners in?”

“Crime fighting,” Croft said. “We’re LAPD detectives.”

“Ah,” Pam said, “and what brings you all the way to San Francisco?”

“The investigation of an attempted murder and an inadvertent suicide,” Croft replied. “What do you two do?”

“I do news features on the six o’clock news at WSFO,” Pam said, “and Sherry is the weather girl.”

“The meteorologist,” Sherry said.

“Sorry, Sherry. Tell me about your crime, Stockton—what was it again?”

“Attempted murder and inadvertent suicide.”

“That sounds fascinating. Tell me everything.”

“Well, this guy who works at a movie studio got hired to kill a lawyer who is a pilot, so he went out to Santa Monica Airport and packed half a pound of plastic explosives into the nosewheel well of a Citation and attached the detonator to a cell phone.”

“So the guy could call the number and the bomb would go off?”

“Exactly, except the guy got unlucky. Somebody called the number of the cell phone—probably a misdial—and the bomb went off while the guy was installing it.”

“And what did that do to the guy?”

“Blew off his head and one arm, and badly damaged his dignity.”

The girls winced and laughed. “And thus,” Pam said, “attempted murder and inadvertent suicide!”

“Right you are.”

“I love it, but how did it get you to San Francisco?”

“We came up to question a suspect.”