To Die in Beverly Hills (32 page)

"No dogs."

"It sounds too easy," Bailey said. "I don't like things that sound too easy."

"Of course, it's not like
we're
tiptoeing in the house. And with gold coins, we don't have to worry about talking to a fence. They're untraceable. Any coin store in the world would be happy to buy them with no questions asked. Three hundred grand is a lot of bucks. A load of bucks."

"I'll think about it."

Bailey finished his coffee and Kreuzer paid the bill. "Whatever you think," Kreuzer said amiably as they strolled past mannequins wearing sable and chinchilla coats. They reached the bank of elevators and Kreuzer pressed the down button. A vacant elevator arrived; they stepped on and pressed different floors. Nothing was said as they descended.

"I hope you go for it," Kreuzer said when the elevator stopped at the ground floor. "I really do. I have a real good feeling about it."

"We'll see." Bailey stepped off the elevator into the underground garage and made his way to the unmarked police car. Delsey Piper was leaning back against the headrest with her eyes closed.

Bailey got into the car and started the engine. He backed out of the parking space and steered toward the street exit.

"What did your informant have to say?" she asked without opening her eyes.

"Routine info. Someone's planning a burglary in Beverly Hills. He'll find out more and get back to me in a few days ... blah blah blah."

"What are we going to do about it?"

"There's not much we can do about it."

"I wish you'd stop keeping me in the dark."

He reached out and pulled her close to him. He ran his hand up her skirt and she giggled.

"And now I guess we're headed for the apartment?" she said coquettishly.

He shook his head. "The golf course," he said with a wry grin.

"If anyone ever catches us up there we're going to be in trouble."

"But no one ever will."

"You like to do it up there because of the risk."

"Maybe." Bailey slipped his hand inside her panties and massaged her pussy. Delsey spread her legs and he felt wetness.

He stepped on the accelerator and zoomed out of the garage.

Charles Carr waited in his sedan. He was parked on Wilshire Boulevard a block east of the department store. He watched Emil Kreuzer leave the main entrance of the department store and walk across the intersection. Following Carr's instructions, he walked down a side street to his Mercedes-Benz, got in and drove off.

Carr started the engine and followed him as he made a few turns in the Beverly Hills business district. At a signal light in front of a store with a display window full of oriental rugs, Carr sounded his horn.

Emil Kreuzer pulled across the intersection and parked at the curb.

Carr pulled up behind him. Kreuzer got out of his car and looked around fearfully. He trotted to Carr's sedan and climbed in the passenger side.

"I gave him the rundown just like you told me," Kreuzer said.

Carr lit a cigarette, tossed the match out the window. "Did he go for it?"

"Hard to say. He didn't jump on it like a free piece of ass, but on the other hand, he didn't say no. He took the address."

"How did he act today as compared to other times when you've given him a rundown on a score?"

"Pretty much the same. He's not the kind of guy to come right out and tell you exactly when he's going to have a place hit. He's a noncommittal person. That's the best way to describe him. Cagey and noncommittal." Kreuzer smiled. "He's somewhat like you."

A Rolls-Royce pulled in front of them and parked. A middle-aged man wearing a tennis outfit got out of the car and went into the oriental rug store.

"If this thing goes the way you want it to, I'm home free, right?" Kreuzer said. "Immunity from prosecution, like you promised?"

Carr nodded. "If it goes the way I want it to."

"And I won't have to testify?"

"And you won't have to testify."

"What if something goes wrong and Bailey figures out I set him up?"

"Then he'll probably kill you."

"That's not very funny."

Carr drove straight to his apartment after meeting with Kreuzer and telephoned Higgins.

"I put out the bait," he said.

"When?"

"Just now."

"Then I guess we have to set up. Do I need to bring anything?"

"Bring a shotgun and a couple of flashlights. I have the transmitter," Carr said. "I'll meet you at the West Hollywood Sheriff's Station in an hour."

"I'll be there."

After they hung up Carr dialed Sally Malone's number.

"I just walked in the door," she said.

"I'm going to be tied up for a few days. I wanted to let you know-"

"We need to talk," she interrupted. "Can you come over for a few minutes?"

"I'm on my way to a stakeout. I don't really have time right now."

"Will you do this for me? Will you please come over for just a few minutes? I want to talk with you in person."

"We'll just end up in an argument."

"Are you telling me that your job is more important, more important overall than our relationship?"

Carr's eyes closed in frustration.

"All I'm asking for is five minutes."

"I'll be by." Carr set the receiver down.

Hurriedly, he tossed shaving items, shirts and underwear into a briefcase. It barely closed. He locked the windows and front door before leaving, then drove the few short blocks to Sally's apartment. As he knocked on the door, he realized he was out of breath.

"It's open," she called out.

Carr went in. Sally sat at a dinette table. She offered him a drink; he declined politely.

"I know you don't have much time," she said, "so I'm just going to say what I've been thinking for the last week and let the chips fall where they may."

Carr sat down at the table.

"I've felt strongly about you for years and unless I'm wrong I think you feel the same way about me. Maybe we love each other and maybe we don't. I'm really not sure that our relationship isn't some form of mutually destructive behavior. The thought has been on my mind for the past few days and I wanted to share it with you. If you think I'm crazy, please say so."

"I don't think you're crazy."

"But just the way you're looking at me right now I can tell that you haven't the slightest idea of what I'm trying to say." Sally looked at her hands.

Carr stifled the desire to check the time. "I really have to go," he said. "As soon as the stakeout is over we can get together and talk. Maybe I'll take some time off."

"Nothing will have changed. You'll still be the same Charlie Carr. Your job will still be more important than anything else in your life. You'll still prefer the company of sociopathic informants and alcoholic policemen over me. As soon as your precious stakeout is over, there'll be another and then another and another. Please don't go to work tonight. Please call in sick or do whatever you have to do. Please don't walk out of here and leave me sitting at this table."

Carr stood up. He pushed the chair back to the table. "You called me over here to argue," he said on his way out the door.

"Don't be surprised if I never call you again," she called after him, her voice cracking. "I mean that."

Carr met Higgins in the parking lot of the West Hollywood Sheriff's Station. After a brief discussion, they drove to Hartmann's bank and picked up the key to Peckham's house. They made a quick stop at a delicatessen on Hillcrest and bought lunchmeat and bread. By the time they made the short drive to Peckham's hillside home it was dusk. As Hartmann had described, there was a locked mailbox on a post at the entrance to a descending driveway.

Carr made the sharp turn and proceeded down the driveway past an elevated tennis court on the right. The house itself was a sprawling one-story structure balanced on hillside struts. It had a four-car garage. Higgins climbed out of the sedan and used a key to unlock the garage. Carr steered into an empty space between a Rolls-Royce and a Maserati and parked.

They carried shotguns, radio transmitters and the sack of groceries into the house. The living room was an expanse of deep black carpeting leading to a semicircle of glass windows covered by sheer curtains. Outside the windows was a plank-floored patio that looked down onto Beverly Hills and West Los Angeles.

Higgins followed Carr through the huge master bedroom and into a study with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The facing wall, behind a mahogany desk, was covered with photographs of the square-jawed Greg Peckham in scenes from various movies. The most imposing photograph was a color shot of Peckham costumed in pirate's knickers, gold earring and a colorful puff-sleeved shirt as he stood on the prow of a sailing vessel. He wore lipstick and heavy makeup.

Higgins stared at the photo. "Can you imagine wearing a costume like that all day to earn a living? All actors must be queers."

"Could be." Carr stepped out of the study and made his way down a hallway lined with oil paintings of Peckham in various flattering poses. The other bedrooms off the hallway were decorated in strikingly different motifs. The walls of one room were covered with zebra skins.

After surveying the entire house, they returned to the living room.

Carr picked up a shotgun, pulled shells from his coat pocket and thumbed them into the magazine. "How would you break in?" he said.

"It's a toss-up between either kicking in the front door or coming around the side of the house. But I don't think he'll hit the windows. They look fairly secure."

"The front door looks like the weak spot to me."

Without discussion, they took positions catercorner from one another in the living room. As it grew dark inside the house the city below became alive with lights. In the distance the flashing red lights of airplanes descended slowly in an arc toward Los Angeles International Airport.

For once, Carr mused, the night was clear. He remembered being on guard duty in Korea. It had been foggy and pitch dark. He knew that if the enemy had approached his position, he would probably feel a bayonet before seeing it. Consequently, he stood as still as possible through his tour of guard duty, knowing that the enemy might be close enough to hear him. Sitting across the room from one another in the darkness, Higgins and Carr bantered about the case. Around 10:00 P.m. they shared a meal of bologna and bread, which they ate under flashlight illumination at the kitchen table. After finishing their sandwiches, they returned to their posts.

"When you talked with Kreuzer," Higgins said from across the room, "did he sound confident that Bailey would take the bait?" It was the same question he had asked in a number of different ways through the course of the evening.

"He said Bailey reacted the same way he always does when he gave him an address for a score."

"We might end up sitting here all week."

"I was afraid if I told Kreuzer to say that the house would be vacant for any shorter period it might sound like a setup."