To Die in Beverly Hills (24 page)

Carr straightened his necktie, walked to the door. Without glancing back, he opened it and left.

****

TWELVE

THERE WAS the smell of expensive perfume. The seats in the private projection room were filled with Mrs. Wallace's friends, most of whom were members of the Women's Club. All the women were attired in the latest Rodeo Drive fashions-dresses with thin belts or baggy pants and blouses.

Emil Kreuzer stood with his back to the projection screen. Charlene, the hitchhiker, lay on the floor in front of him with her head resting on a pillow. She wore a stylish blue jump suit he'd bought for her. Her eyes were closed and she breathed deeply. As Kreutzer spoke, he was careful to make eye contact around the room, a technique he'd learned in a Terminal Island public-speaking class. As his eyes roamed the flock of rich bitches, he noticed at least five four-carat diamond rings. In fact, a statuesque matron sipping coffee at the end of the first row had a diamond ring that he estimated at at least six carats. He gave her special eye contact."...and as you can see," he continued, "Charlene has slipped very easily, very comfortably, into a deep and restful hypnotic trance. Before Charlene came to me she suffered from insomnia and had an abnormal fear of heights. Even standing at a second-story window or riding a horse would cause dizziness, then eventually nausea and vomiting due to anxiety. Even two or three rungs on a stepladder would cause her to become lightheaded. Her parents, who are both medical doctors whom I met at a conference at the Mayo Clinic, had tried every form of medical and psychological therapy to help Charlene. Nothing worked. After I was allowed to examine her, I came to the conclusion that she was an excellent candidate for rebirthing therapy."

A Mexican maid dressed in a white uniform came into the room with a coffee pot. Mrs. Wallace motioned her away and the maid scurried out of the room.

"And now, if I may, I'd like to ask everyone to be particularly quiet as I lead Charlene back to the beginning of her life, a journey that she and I often take for its therapeutic and cleansing effect." He knelt next to Charlene. Some of the women moved closer to get a better view. "If you feel comfortable and very, very relaxed and at ease, Charlene, I'd like you to give me a slight nod of the head."

Charlene nodded.

"And now slowly, as one would travel in a safe boat across a lake whose water is as calm and pleasant as mirrored glass, I want you to travel back to your fifth birthday. When you have made that trip backward through time, I'd like you to give me another nod."

Charlene continued to breathe deeply for what must have been a full minute. She gave another nod.

"Hello, birthday girl," Kreuzer said. "What do you see around you? You may respond verbally without coming out of your comfortable state of relaxation."

Charlene's lips moved a few times. "Birthday party," she said in a barely audible voice. "Mommy has the cake and the candles."

"What a wonderful happy day!" Kreuzer lowered his voice. "Should we move closer to warmth and total security?"

Charlene nodded before he finished the question.

Using a series of similar suggestions, he directed her backward in time to her first birthday. As he did so, Charlene turned on her side. She put her thumb in her mouth and curled into a fetal position. Some of the women gasped in amazement.

As he directed Charlene farther back in time by reeling off months, her body curled tighter. "...and finally we have returned to the womb." Gentle, Kreuzer pulled Charlene's thumb from her mouth. "How do you feel?"

Her lips moved. "Wet ... warm..." she mumbled, "...and my tummy has something on it."

Kreuzer looked up at the audience. "As you can see, Charlene has now regressed all the way back to the womb, to the beginnings of her life. The feeling on her stomach is the umbilical cord. How do you feel, Charlene?"

After more lip movement, Charlene said, "I want to stay here."

More gasps from the audience.

"I know you'd like to stay longer," Kreuzer said, "but we must come into the world. We must be born." Charlene nodded. As he directed her out of the womb, she thrashed about. "What are you feeling at this moment?" Kreuzer asked gently.

"Something pushing down on me." There was fear in her voice. "I want to come out faster, but I'm too big ... more pushing down ... when I push with my feet it hurts me. I think I'm stuck." Her arms had moved to her sides. "I can hear her.
 
My mom is crying. Push ... push ... push. Something hard around my head ... jaw hurts ... hurts bad... pulling me ... pulling ... pulling ... I hear loud talk ... push, push. Everything is tight and I can't move my arms..." Suddenly, Charlene burst into an infant like cry. She thrashed furiously. Finally, she stopped. Her thumb found its way to her mouth.

"Welcome to the world," Kreuzer said. He patted her hand. Carefully, he gave gentle commands and she progressed forward in time through her birthdays. Finally, they were at the present. He snapped his fingers three times and she opened her eyes. He helped her to her feet. The women applauded, then burst into animated conversation.

Kreuzer raised his hands and the crowd quieted down. "It took Charlene and I five sessions until we discovered the root of her problems. She had been a forceps delivery, as I'm sure many of you were able to surmise. Moments after she was born, the doctor dropped her on the floor of the delivery room."

The women murmured.

"Once Charlene and I were able to determine this, we were able to completely eliminate her fear of heights and her insomnia and the other problems she had were taken care of. She is happier today than she has ever been in her entire life." He looked at her. "Isn't that right, young lady?"

Charlene nodded.

"Rebirthing is the wave of the future in personal development," Kreuzer said, giving his best smile. "This concludes my demonstration. If anyone is interested in rebirthing therapy, I've left some of my cards on the table near the door. Thank you." He made a slight bow as the women applauded.

Outside the house, Kreuzer climbed in the driver's seat of his Mercedes-Benz and started the engine. Charlene leaned back in the passenger seat. "Sometimes I feel like laughing when I'm doing it."

"You did a wonderful job today," Kreuzer said. "You have tremendous acting ability."

"You really think so?"

"I mean that with all my heart."

Charlene giggled.

A few minutes later they were back at his apartment.

Travis Bailey sat in a sedan parked across the street from the apartment house. He nodded as Kreuzer swung the Mercedes-Benz into the driveway.

Kreuzer turned off the engine and handed the key to Charlene. "You go on in. I have to talk with that man over there." She took the key and climbed out of the car. Kreuzer looked around carefully before he strolled over to Bailey's car. He opened the passenger door and got in.

Without a greeting Bailey started the engine, pulled out from the curb and headed north toward Sunset Boulevard. "Carr is causing problems," he said. "He paid Bones a visit."

"Damn." Kreuzer felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach.

"Bones shined him on."

"Carr does that sort of thing. I told you, the man is a snake. He squeezes people to get a reaction." He ran his hands through his hair. "But he has nothing. He has zero. And Bones is solid. The cops offered him a pass five years ago in exchange for testimony in the Athletic Club gambling thing. He kept his mouth shut and got two years when he could have walked. The man is solid."

Nothing was said for a while. They cruised along Sunset Boulevard past modern office buildings, billboards with motion picture advertisements and crowded sidewalk cafes. On the road in front of them-a bus emitted a billow of black exhaust, like an urban crop duster.

"What about Lee's girl friend?" Kreuzer said. "The one you were worried about?"

"She's no longer a worry." Bailey turned south on La Brea Avenue.

"How can you be sure?"

"She went for a hike up in the mountains."

"I thought she was in jail."

"She was," Bailey said. "Bones bailed her out and she took a trip. I made the arrangements myself."

Kreuzer turned and stared at him for a long moment. He leaned back in the seat.

Bailey slowed down as they passed the Pascoe Military Academy. A group of cadets marched across the playground.

"That's where I went to school," he said. "I was one of the few who graduated without turning queer."

"Are you telling me that Amanda Kennedy is no longer a cause for concern?" Kreuzer swallowed twice.

Bailey picked up speed again. "That's what I'm telling you."

"We'll have to keep tabs on Bones," Kreuzer said. "I trust him implicitly, but we'll still have to keep an eye on him."

"I intend to." Maintaining the speed limit, he completed the circuitous trip back to Kreuzer's apartment. He pulled to the curb and parked, but left the engine running.

"I'll have some more addresses for you in the next few days," Kreuzer said. "My appointment book is full."

"I'll be in touch."

Carr sat on the edge of the hospital bed as Jack Kelly, wearing nothing but an open-at-the-back hospital smock, walked slowly around the room. Kelly needed a shave and his hair was matted on one side. Though his voice was weak, he spoke in animated fashion about the shooting. Because of his wound he didn't move his left arm. "Sheboygan sees Bailey jump from behind the bar with a riot gun. He says, 'No,' as if to say, 'No. Please don't blow me away.' Then Bailey blasts him out of his socks. It doesn't make sense. If Sheboygan was prowling with a gun in his hand, why would he say, 'No'? Hell, you'd think he'd've either fired his revolver at Bailey or dropped it and given up. He wouldn't have stood there red-handed and said, 'No.' The whole thing doesn't make sense."

Carr lit a cigarette. He climbed off the bed and looked around for an ashtray. There was none. He tossed the match into a waste can and moved to the window next to Kelly. Outside in the parking lot, a beefy nurse hiked her uniform skirt and climbed on a motorcycle, gunned the motor and drove off. "What if Bailey knew Sheboygan?" he said. "What if they were in on something together? What if the burglary was a setup?"

"Then he had to shoot him. And he had to make damn sure he was dead. And if I was in the way that was just too friggin' bad. He had to shoot."

Carr took a drag off the cigarette and blew smoke out the window. "That's the way 1 read what happened. He did it because he had to. There was no other way out for him. That's why he gave Sheboygan a second blast when he was down. He had to make damn sure he was dead."

"Why? Why did he want to kill a burglar?"

Carr shrugged.

Neither man spoke as they stood looking out the window. Kelly, having tired, made his way back into bed, groaned and sighed in the effort. "I'm through, Charlie. I'm gonna retire. The doctor told me that the wound is serious enough that I could retire on a forty percent disability. I could get another job and I'd be making as much as I am right now. I made my decision when the wife brought my boys in to see me. Little Johnny said, 'Who shot you, daddy?' Right then and there I decided to retire. If I would have died, Rose would've had to sell the house to pay the bills. It's a hell of a thing to think about."

"You'll be bored in a week."

"I'm tired of cracking heads. I'm tired of explaining evidence to a bunch of pot-smoking hippies who masquerade as assistant United States attorneys. I'm tired of working on weekends and holidays. I'm tired of watching judge Malcolm give three-time losers probation. I'm tired of having pencil-pushing dummies like No Waves tell me what to do ... and I'm tired of eating hamburgers on the run. I'm not just saying this."