Double

Ibarcena bowed slightly. “How do you do,” he said in accented tones. “Sharon,” Elaine added, “is one of my former employees from Huston’s Department Store — and a private investigator herself now. She’s here for the convention.”

Beddoes’s eyes flicked to me. They were sharp and assessing. “One of your protégées, Elaine?”

“You might say that.” Her tone was even more frosty. I glanced at her, but her face was set in its usual cordial mask. “Now, what about the bungalows, Lloyd?”

“Never mind,” he said. “I can see you’re busy. Victor will handle it.”

“If it’s a security problem—”

“No problem, Elaine. Just a nuisance that will be taken care of.” Beddoes motioned to Victor Ibarcena, and the two went off across the hotel lobby toward the reception desk.

Elaine watched them, her eyes narrowed, then said, “Let’s get that drink now.”

The bar was at the back of the hotel, overlooking a terrace with white wrought-iron furniture, the beach, and the ocean. Spacious and dimly lit, the lounge was furnished with old-fashioned red plush sofas and chairs grouped around low mahogany cocktail tables. The bar itself was a mammoth carved affair that, I recalled, had been imported years ago from some European castle. Elaine signaled to the waitress and led me to a window table. The waitress followed and took our orders.

While we waited for our drinks, I gazed out at the ocean. The water sparkled in the late-afternoon sun, as if to prove the peninsula’s claim to the name Silver Strand. When I looked back at Elaine, her face was pensive, and once again I noticed the lines of tension and the dark circles under her eyes that belied her relaxed, assured manner.

Probably the new job was taking its toll, I thought. Nothing much in Elaine’s background had prepared her for the task of dealing with guests of a hotel such as Casa del Rey — or with the delicate problems that could come up there. Although her rise in hotel security had been rapid in the five years since she’d left Huston’s, she’d previously supervised a small staff of twenty-five whose primary responsibility had been apprehending shoplifters. And before that she’d been merely a saleswoman in the cosmetics department, a brighter-than-average employee who had been pulled from the ranks and thrust into a management-training program.

The waitress returned and placed our glasses of wine — white for me, red for Elaine — on the table. Elaine raised hers to me and sipped.

I said, “How’s the new job going?”

She shrugged. “Like any job, it takes some getting used to.” “What’s Lloyd Beddoes like to work for?” I wanted to explore the tension I’d sensed between them, to see if perhaps it was the cause of her haggard appearance.

“Lloyd?” She picked up her glass again and drained off a good third of it. “Lloyd’s an arrogant, officious bastard — but I can handle him.”

Well, that hadn’t taken much probing. “And Victor Ibarcena?” “He’s Lloyd’s whipping boy. He takes what Lloyd dishes out and smoothes everything over when he starts getting to people.” She sipped her wine more slowly this time. Seeing the concern on my face, she added, “Oh, it’s not all that bad. I’ve taken on more than I can handle lately — a new job and a new house in Chula Vista all at the same time — and I tend to dramatize my difficulties. But what about you? How’s the job with the law co-op?”

“It’s pretty good, actually. A lot of the time the work is routine and boring, but I’ve stumbled onto a few big cases over the years. And I like the people there — they’re casual and easygoing.”

“Like you.”

“Like me, yes. Every now and then I think of going out on my own, but...”

“But the law co-op is security.”

“Well, security on a low economic plane. I did manage to scrape enough together to buy a house this year, though.”

“Ah, another homeowner. What’s the place like?”

“Peculiar. It’s one of the cottages built by the Relief Committee after the earthquake of ‘06. Only it’s been added onto and improved — somewhat. I redid the living room because the ceiling was about to fall in, and now I’m contemplating the bathroom. It’s a top priority, since the toilet’s currently in a cubicle on the back porch, and that’s going to be mighty cold on some of those winter nights.”

Elaine smiled and signaled at the waitress for another round of drinks. “I take it you haven’t married,” she said.

“No. Somehow I don’t think a wedded state is compatible with being a private eye. I’ve got a boyfriend, though.” Just saying it gave me warm glow.

“You look like you’re in love.”

“Yes, I guess I am. I know I am.”

The drinks came, and Elaine raised hers in a toast. “Here’s to love, then,” she said with an odd note in her voice.

I sipped my wine. “What about you — any interesting males in your life?”

A barely perceptible shadow crossed her face. “No one worth mentioning.”