Carr looked at the jar of Vaseline. He flexed his palm. "Are you aware you've grease on your hand?"
Cleaver looked embarrassed. He pointed to his face. "Sunburned nose. I was just applying some-"
"Thanks for your time," Carr interrupted. He turned and strode out of the room. Bailey followed him down the hall to the stairway.
"I'm sure you can see where I'm coming from. I'm just following orders. So I hope there are no hard feelings."
"How long have you worked the burglary table here?" Carr asked.
Travis Bailey furrowed his brow. "Quite a while."
"Funny that you never ran across Lee Sheboygan. You'd think a good cat burglar like him would have come to your attention."
"Every cat burglar in L.A. takes at least one shot at Beverly Hills at one time or another. After a while it's hard to keep the names straight."
"Are you saying that you may have known him by another name?"
"No. I said I don't recall having any contact with the man. If you've got something to say, Carr, why don't you come right out and say it."
Carr lit another cigarette. He blew smoke on Bailey. "How about lunch?" he said with a smile.
Travis Bailey looked taken aback. "Yeah, I guess so. I'll get my coat." As he entered the door to the Detective Bureau, Carr opened the stairwell door. He took the steps to the parking lot, climbed in his sedan and drove to the Field Office.
Having traversed the hallway, stairwell and the downstairs parking lot looking for Carr, Bailey returned to the bureau. He shrugged off his coat and flung it on his desk angrily.
"What's the matter with you?" Delsey Piper asked.
"I have something I want you to do," he said, glaring at her for the dumb question.
In the Field Office mail room, Carr checked his message box. There was a message from Cedars of Lebanon Hospital. He called the number from his desk.
A woman answered. "Nursing station thirteen."
"This is Agent Carr."
"You still want us to notify you when visitors come to see Mr. Kelly?"
"Yes."
"A lady detective just called. She said she'd be over in an hour to visit Mr. Kelly. I told her it was okay. Just thought I'd let you know about it."
"Thanks a lot," Carr said. He rushed out of the office.
Carr sat in a vacant hospital room adjoining Jack Kelly's. He had wedged the door to Kelly's room open a few inches, and shoved a serving cart against it so it couldn't be opened. The door to Kelly's room creaked. The sound of footsteps.
"Jack Kelly?"
"That's me."
"I'm Delsey Piper, Beverly Hills P.D. If you feel up to it, I'd like to ask you a few questions about the shooting incident. I've been assigned to do the shooting analysis report for our department. It's sort of a follow-up we do anytime an officer uses his weapon."
"Would you mind cranking me up a foot or so with that thing at the end of the bed?"
A metal cranking sound. "How's that?" she asked.
"Better."
"Well, why don't you just tell me what happened?" She laughed nervously.
"I don't remember a damn thing," Kelly said. "Not a thing. I can hardly remember going over to Hartmann's house. The doctor tells me that this is common with people who get shot. The mind just blocks out the whole incident."
"You mean you can't remember even one single thing about how the shooting took place?"
"It's a complete blank spot in my mind."
"Wow," she said. "How weird." Neither spoke for a moment. "Do you think you'll be able to remember what happened if I come back in a day or two?"
"Hard to say. The doc said it could come back at any time, or maybe never."
"Ultraweird. Sort of like the Twilight Zone." A giggle. "Well, I guess I'll be going."
"Would you crank the bed down again for me?"
She complied with the request and Kelly thanked her.
"I hope you get well really, really soon," she said. The door opened and closed.
Carr waited awhile. Finally, he shoved the serving cart away from the door and went into the room.
"Do you think she's in with him?" Kelly said.
Carr shrugged. "Would you let her in on anything?"
"Hell no. I wonder why he sent her over here?"
"Because he's hearing footsteps."
Bailey unlocked the front door of his apartment. He stepped into the living room and closed the door behind him.
Unbuttoning her blouse, Delsey Piper stood in the bedroom doorway. "He didn't remember anything." The blouse came open.
Bailey approached her. "What do you mean he couldn't remember anything?"
She took off the blouse and tossed it on the floor. "Just what I said. He doesn't remember anything. The doctor told him it's like shock or something. He may never remember what happened."
"Who else was there?"
She gave him a confused look.
"Who else was in the hospital room when you spoke with him?" Bailey enunciated each word sarcastically.
"No one. What are you so uptight about?"
"I just want to know exactly what he said."
She unsnapped her brassiere and tossed it. "I asked him to tell me about what happened at Hartmann's house. He said he couldn't remember ... just plain couldn't remember. That was about it." Her tits jiggled as she massaged a red bra mark on her shoulder.
"Carr is a sneaky son-of-a-bitch. A rotten, underhanded snake."
"What makes you say that?"
"I know him. He's trying to get me in trouble because of what happened to his partner."
"Do you think he told Kelly to act as if he can't remember what happened?"
Without answering, Bailey went over to a liquor cabinet. He poured whiskey into a glass, sipped.
"You didn't answer my question," Delsey said as she followed him into the living room. She unzipped her skirt, let it drop to her ankles. She kicked it back into the bedroom.
"Can't you pick up your things?" Bailey said angrily. "Is there some reason why you can't keep your clothes off the fucking floor?"
Hands on hips, she stared at him for a moment. "I think you need to let off some steam." She strutted back into the bedroom. Moments later, she returned to the living room holding an amyl-nitrate capsule between her thumb and index finger. With a coy smile she held it up as if it were a nugget of gold. She pulled off her panties. Having moved over to him, she shoved a hand down his trousers and massaged his cock. He felt himself becoming erect and reached between her legs. Teasingly, she stepped away from him and dropped to the floor. She lay on her back and spread her legs, massaging her pussy.
As he stared at the generous mound of hair between her legs, he tore off his clothing. His cock throbbed. He dropped to the floor and, without preliminaries of any kind, mounted her. They screwed fiercely. Delsey Piper moaned and made staccato yelps. "Tell me when," she whispered. "Tell me when, tell me when, tell me when..."
"Now!" he said as he felt the first surge of orgasm.
Deftly, she broke the capsule and shoved it under his nose; almond fumes. He inhaled deeply. The almond- smelling drug caused his heart and blood to race. His orgasm doubled, tripled. He moaned and squirmed in pleasure. Delsey Piper dug her fingernails into his buttocks as if to wring him dry.
Finally, he was spent. He rolled off her and drew deep breaths. His heartbeat returned to normal.
Delsey kissed him on the cheek and said something about wanting to go out to dinner.
Ignoring her, he breathed deeply a few more times, crawled to his feet and staggered to the bathroom. He showered for at least a half hour, taking special care to clean his fingernails, feet and ears. He washed his hair until it was squeaky-clean. When he finally turned off the shower, the phone was ringing. He heard Delsey answer it. "It's Bones," she said, stepping into the bathroom.
"Tell him I'll call him back."
"He says it's important."
Travis Bailey slung a towel over his shoulders and w
ent to the phone. "I told you not to call me at home."
"Amanda would like to speak with you," Bones said. "She would like you to come over right now so she could speak to you."
"Are you at your place?"
"Yes."
"Is she going along with the program?"
"No, not at all."
"Tell him to get his ass over here right now," Amanda Kennedy said. She sounded as if she were close to the phone.
"She says she'd like you to come over-"
"I heard her. Don't let her leave until I get there. Do you understand that?"
"Sure," Chagra said. The phone clicked.
Bailey returned to the bathroom, where he dried off completely. Moving to the bedroom closet, he dressed slowly as he thought about what Amanda Kennedy had told him when he interviewed her at the Women's jail. He relived his confrontation with Carr. Dressed in slacks and a sport shirt, he combed his hair for a long time. He shoved a snub-nosed revolver, which he always carried off duty, in the waistband of his trousers.
"I want to go out to dinner," Delsey said when he came out of the bedroom. She remained lying on the floor where he'd left her.
Wordlessly he stuffed his car keys into a pants pocket and headed out the door.
Answering the knock, Bones Chagra let Bailey into his apartment. Amanda Kennedy sat on the sofa with her hands folded across her chest. The walls of the spacious apartment were covered with barroom photographs of Chagra in his bartender's outfit, posturing with smiling movie and television stars. In the corner of the room was a metal, chair-like device with two padded bicycle seats facing each other at different elevations. A plastic vibrator rested on one of the seats.
Bailey moved casually to the sofa and took a seat.
Amanda Kennedy stared straight ahead. "Are you aware that he brought me here against my will?" she asked. "When he picked me up at the jail, I asked him to take me home. He refused and drove straight over here. You're a policeman. Isn't taking someone against their will a crime? Isn't it called kidnapping?"
Bailey frowned at Chagra. "I apologize," he said. "Bones isn't the most diplomatic person in the world. Could we just chat for a few minutes before I drive you home?"
"There's nothing to chat about. I told him the same thing I'll tell you. If my case is not dismissed ... and I mean dismissed, not just fixed to probation, you people are in trouble. I don't know what happened to Lee Sheboygan but I have a pretty good idea. We were friends and he told me all about you." She turned to Bones. "And you."
"How do I know what you're telling me is true?" Bailey said.
"Lee told me that you and some guy that's a stage hypnotist gave him the addresses and that he and Bones did the rest. He said that some of the biggest jewelers in Beverly Hills bought the stolen diamonds and gold and that the paintings went to two art galleries on La Cienega Boulevard. Now do you believe me?"
Bailey felt a tingling sensation in the tips of his fingers. "I believe you," he said, forcing a wry smile.
"And?"
"And I've got the right contacts at the courthouse. Your case is as good as washed."
"And what exactly do you mean by washed?"
"You won't have to go to court. You won't have to go back to jail. Your bad experience is ended."
"How do I know you're not just saying that to pacify me?"
"I can show you the paperwork tomorrow, if you like. I have a friend in the District Attorney's office. I did a little checking and found out that the owner of the necklace Lee gave you passed away a few weeks ago. Therefore, there's no victim to testify. It was easier than I thought. You have my personal word that the case will be dismissed. You'll never hear another word about it."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Amanda Kennedy leaned back on the sofa. "Thank God," she said to the ceiling, then sat up again. "I was worried to death. All I could think about in there was serving time for something I didn't do. Something I had nothing to do with. All I did was accept a gift."
"It's over now," Bailey said. "Can't we have a drink?"
"I can use something more than a drink." The remark was obviously more than in jest.
Like a dutiful waiter, Bones winked and rushed into the kitchen.
"The night they booked me, the matrons searched me, fingerprinted me and shoved me in a cell. It happened so fast I didn't know what hit me. All of a sudden, I'm sitting in this jail cell. It was unreal. I mean unreal. It wasn't as if I was doing dope or something and got caught selling to the man. I was sitting in a jail cell simply because I had been given a necklace. Unreal."
Bones returned from the kitchen carrying a pocket-sized mirror and a small glass vial of white powder. He set the mirror down on the coffee table in front of Amanda. Having unscrewed the top off the vial, he tapped out a small line of cocaine onto the mirror. From his shirt pocket, he removed a red cocktail straw and handed it to her. "This'll make you feel better."
Blankly, she glanced at the two men. Then she leaned over the table and touched one end of the straw to the cocaine and the other end to her right nostril. She inhaled through her nose as she moved the straw along the line of coke, dropped the straw and leaned back. With her eyes closed, as if in ecstasy, she inhaled deeply a few times.
Bones stared at her tits while Bailey stepped to the bar. He mixed a strong drink and a weak one.
Amanda Kennedy opened her eyes.
"How is it?" Chagra asked.
"Lovely. Really lovely."
Bailey handed her the strong drink.
"I hope you don't think I was trying to be unreasonable about this thing," she said, taking a sip, "but I have to look out for myself."
"No hard feelings." Bailey hefted his glass and they both drank. Her eyes looked dope-hazy.
Bones went over to a wall unit, where he flipped some switches. Soft music filled the room.
"Mellow," she said. "This is the first mellow feeling I've had since they arrested me. Uptight City. That's what they should call jail. Uptight City. I couldn't sleep a wink. The lights were on all the time. It was like a fucking movie. Unreal." She took a big sip of the drink. "Ummmm."
Bones Chagra sat down next to her. "Really."
Amanda glanced at her blouse and gave it a little tug. "Totally wrinkled."
"You still look great," Chagra whispered.
Travis Bailey walked to a wall phone in the kitchen. He lifted the receiver and dialed. Delsey Piper answered. "If anyone calls for me tonight, just say I'm in the shower and I'll call them back. Then leave the phone off the hook."
"What's going on?"
"An informant thing," he said, lowering his voice.
"Will you be home tonight?"
"It depends."
"You never give definite answers."
He hung up the receiver and returned to the living room.
Chagra and Amanda Kennedy had left the sofa. The bedroom door was only partially shut, and he could hear Amanda giggling. The cocaine and paraphernalia were gone from the coffee table. He turned on the television, looking for some diversion. For the next hour or so he stared at a courtroom drama starring an actor who he knew had once been arrested for molesting a twelve-year-old girl. As the screen credits were shown, Bones Chagra came out of the bedroom. He was naked.
"You want some?" he said, pointing a thumb at the bedroom door.
Travis Bailey shook his head. "It's getting late."
Bones nodded and returned to the bedroom.
Bailey stared at a quiz show in which the contestants jumped up and down. The audience applauded intermittently.
Chagra came out of the bedroom again, this time with his arm around a staggering Amanda Kennedy. Sloppily, she tucked in her blouse.
Bailey stood up.
"How about another little drink?" Chagra asked her.
"I think I'd better go," she said, slurring her words. "You still here?" she said as she noticed Bailey.
"Just leaving," he heard himself saying. "Can I give you a lift?"
Chagra
stared at Bailey as if he wanted to say something.
Amanda pulled Chagra by the arm. "Why don't you give me a ride home?" she said drunkenly.
"Uh, my car's in the shop."
Travis Bailey walked to the front door and opened it. "My radio car is downstairs."
Amanda giggled as Bones tried to keep her from losing her balance. "I guess I can't walk home."
Bailey stepped out the door and followed a hallway to a stairwell leading to the ground-floor carport. Chagra followed him, keeping his arm around Amanda Kennedy's shoulder in order to steady her gait.
In the carport, he unlocked the passenger door of his sedan and swung the door open. As Chagra led her out of the stairwell, Bailey looked around carefully. There was no one else in the carport. The street was deserted. He went over to the driver's side and climbed in, watching as Chagra led Amanda Kennedy to the passenger side and helped her in. Having said something about giving her a call sometime, he shut the car door. Without looking back, he hurried back through the stairwell door.
Amanda Kennedy leaned back in the seat. "Unreal," she said sleepily.
Travis Bailey started the engine. Driving out of the carport onto a street lined with apartment houses and luxury cars, he waited until he reached the corner to turn on the headlights.
"My ex used to write scripts about this sort of thing. I was a sounding board for his crazy ideas. His best script was about this man who would send poison pen letters by carrier pigeon. They were going to make it into a TV movie but this peanut butter company that was the sponsor didn't approve of the script..."
Bailey nodded. They drove along Westwood Boulevard past some newly built restaurants and shops that were designed with synthetic wood and brick to look European. Sandwiched between a candy store and French bakery was a gun shop with a three-dimensional bullet affixed to the front door.
"How many other people know about the things Lee Sheboygan told you about?" Bailey said as he turned a corner.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "I've never told a soul, if that's what you mean. I believe in not getting involved. If there's anything I've learned since coming to L.A., it's do not get involved. Lee and I met around the swimming pool after he moved in. He seemed lonely and he was very open about having served time in prison. I thought that was refreshing, that someone would be open enough to tell a perfect stranger about the mistakes he'd made in life. He told me about how awful it was in prison. He was a very different person. I could relate to him, share secrets with him. We just seemed to click. The right vibes were just there and all of a sudden we were getting down together and telling each other our innermost secrets. We were really communicating. The cocaine helped, of course."
To Die in Beverly Hills Page 13