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."
"You're right," Higgins said. "It was the best way to do it. It's just sitting here not knowing whether he'll ever come. That's the hard part. The thought of wasting a week sitting here for nothing."
The conversation became even more banal after midnight.
During the morning hours they alternated taking catnaps. Finally, the sun came up.
Carr stretched. He phoned the Field Office and left a message for No Waves that he was on a stakeout at Tony Dio's home. Higgins called his captain and did the same. They took quick showers, changed underwear, ate more lunchmeat and bread, made a joint command decision to make a pot of Greg Peckham's coffee. When it was brewed, they drank the entire pot. For a while they discussed whether it was worth taking the chance of separating long enough for one of them to drive to a store and pick up a morning newspaper. They decided against it.
They spent the rest of the day playing gin rummy. After dark, they continued playing by arranging a flashlight on the dining room table. Finally, at 11:00 P.M., Carr ginned and Higgins said he'd played enough cards to last him the rest of his life.
At Higgins's suggestion, they watched the eleven o'clock news on TV with the volume turned down. After the news, they found themselves meandering about the darkened house like prisoners in an exercise yard. Carr found himself standing on the patio again staring at the city lights. He thought of Sally, and of the case, and about how he would busy himself if he retired.
And the hours passed.
Eventually Carr returned to the living room, where he found Higgins lying on the sofa.
"Most burglars work during the day," Higgins said. "They ring the door bell. If no one's home, they shim the door and do their thing."
"That's what they say," Carr agreed. He remembered Higgins making the same comment the night before.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
Carr grabbed the shotgun, ran to the kitchen window and peeked out. He saw the figure of a man climbing out of a sedan and cautiously approaching the front door. He carried an axe.
Higgins trotted down the hallway toward the den.
There was the sound of metal against metal at the front door. A snap. The door opened slowly.
Carr ducked behind the kitchen work counter.
A beam of a flashlight preceded the man as he passed through the front door. With the light leading his way, he walked through the living room and down the hallway. Carr stood up, tiptoed behind him.
As the man reached the door of the den, Carr flipped on the hallway light. Higgins, holding his pistol in a combat stance, stood in the doorway. "Surprise," he said.
Bones Chagra backed up in fright. His back touched the barrel of Carr's shotgun. He dropped his flashlight and axe and his hands flew over his head. "Please don't kill me," he cried. "Please don't kill me."
Higgins reholstered his revolver. He stepped from the doorway and slammed Chagra against the wall. After frisking him thoroughly, he grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him past Carr into the kitchen, where he shoved him violently into a chair. He yanked a pair of handcuffs off his belt and snapped one cuff on Chagra's right wrist and attached the other to a table leg.
Carr unloaded the shotgun and returned it to his sedan. Back in the kitchen he prepared coffee in an electric pot. He set the pot and three cups on the kitchen table. As he did this, he glanced at a wall clock.
It was 3:00 A.M.
****
SEVENTEEN
AT 8:00 A.M. they were still sitting around the kitchen table. The coffee pot was empty. Carr had filled an ashtray with cigarette butts.
"It's like I said," Chagra said in a fatigued manner. "I've been bullshitted before by the cops."
"That must be the fiftieth time you've said that," Higgins said as he rocked back on his chair. "Maybe more."
"You people can promise me anything you want and then go back on your word."
And you've said that fifty times too, Carr thought. He lit his last cigarette and crumpled the empty pack. "Let's look at this situation realistically," Carr said as he pulled his chair closer to the table. "We were waiting here for you. We knew you were coming. That means only one thing; someone set you up. Now, being the intelligent man that you are, you should know exactly how many people knew you were going to break in here tonight. One of those people handed you up. One of them dropped a dime on you. So who the hell are you trying to protect?"
"Me," Chagra said emphatically as he touched his thumb to his chest. "I'm just trying to protect myself. There's people involved in it who'd snuff me in a minute. I've lived through time in the joint before. And living is the important thing. I'm not going to talk. That's my final decision. You might as well take me downtown and book me and stop wasting your time." Chagra picked up his coffee cup with his unshackled hand. He tossed back the few cold drops in the bottom, grimaced and set the cup back down.
"If we take you downtown we're not going to book you for burglary," Carr said. "We're going to book you for murder."
Bones Chagra swallowed as he stared at the table.
"You were the last person to see Amanda Kennedy alive."
"I didn't kill her. I've got nothing to worry about."
"The day will come when you'll want to help us," Carr said. "We'll make a case on Bailey with or without you. When we arrest him, do you think he'll keep his mouth shut? He's a policeman. He knows the ropes when it comes to making a deal with the prosecution. My guess is that he would hand you up on a platter if it meant so much as one day less on his sentence. I'm going to give it to you straight one last time before we book you for accessory to murder, burglary and everything else we can think of. If you will give us Bailey, we will make your cooperation known to the District Attorney. We'll recommend that you be released on a personal recognizance bond. We will be on your side. If Bailey tries to cause you problems, we will provide you protection."
Chagra was quiet for a while, still staring at the table.
"I'll cooperate if I get immunity," he said finally. "That's the only way I'll do it. I want a free pass. I want to be able to get up and walk right out of here. For anything less than that, it's not worth the risk."
/> "Can't do it," Carr said. "It's out of the question."
"I know you can't. That's why I'm ready to go downtown right now. I'm ready to be booked. You people are wasting your breath."
The men looked at one another around the table.
"I say we throw a phone call in to the district attorney's office and see what they say," Higgins said.
"They'll never go for immunity," Carr said, "but I guess it can't hurt to give 'em a call."
"You tell the D.A. that I want it in writing," Chagra said. "I want it in writing that if I cooperate and do what you want to make a case on Bailey, that I will get complete immunity from all charges and you will let me go with no strings attached. Tell 'em I said that."
Higgins stood up and walked to a phone in the living room. He dialed information and asked for the number of the district attorney's office. He wrote the number down, then made another phone call. Without lowering his voice, he explained the case in detail. Having completed the call, he returned to the kitchen and took his seat. "A deputy district attorney will be here within the hour."
"I'm not trying to be an asshole about this," Bones said. "It's just that I've been screwed on deals before."
"We understand." Carr stood up from the table. Exhausted, he went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs. He set the carton on the work counter.
"Two or three?"
"Are you talking to me?" Chagra said with a quizzical look.
"I'm going to make breakfast," Carr said. "How many eggs would you like?"
Chagra smiled. "You guys are all right."
"We're just doing a job," Higgins said. "Just a job."
After preparing enough eggs and toast for all of them Carr set the plates on the table. Higgins unshackled Chagra's hand from the table leg.
There was little conversation as they ate. When they finished, Carr refilled their coffee cups. As they sat drinking their coffee, the doorbell rang. Higgins left the table and opened the front door. He returned to the kitchen followed by Jack Kelly, who wore a blue suit and carried a briefcase. He set the briefcase on the kitchen table before he pulled out a chair and sat down.
Carr introduced himself. They shook hands.
Kelly turned to Chagra. "My name is Harry Weese," he said. "I'm a Los Angeles County deputy district attorney. Before we go any further I must warn you that you have the right to remain silent and anything you say to me could be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand that?"
"Do you have any identification to prove you work for the district attorney's office?" Chagra said.
Carr's stomach muscles tightened.
Without hesitation, Jack Kelly pulled out his wallet. He thumbed out a business card and handed it to Chagra, put his wallet back.
Chagra stared at the card for a moment. "Do you have anything else ... an I.D. card or something?"
Kelly frowned. "A few minutes ago I was sitting in my office preparing for a very important trial. My supervisor walks in my office and tells me to drive to Beverly Hills to write out a prosecutory deal. I drive through peak rush-hour traffic. Here I am. And now you want to see my I.D.? Like who in the hell do you think I am? You called me. I didn't call you."
Chagra paused for a moment, looking at Kelly. "Never mind," he said sheepishly.
Carr's stomach muscles finally relaxed. "We were staked out here," he said. "We apprehended Mr. Chagra in the act of breaking into this house. Because we're more interested in the person who set up the burglary, we'd like to offer him a deal."
"Look, I don't like these do a deal at the scene operations," Kelly said. "In general, I don't approve of them." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Excuse me." He stood up, walked over to the phone and dialed a number. "This is Weese," he said. "Tell the clerk in courtroom twenty-three I'll be a few minutes late. Thanks." He hung up the receiver and returned to the table.
"We want to give this man immunity because it was a policeman who set up the burglary," Carr said. "He can lead us to him."
"And I want it in writing," Chagra said. "That's the only way I'll do it."
"I have about fifteen minutes before I have to leave to be in court." Kelly opened his briefcase and took out a sheet of paper and a pen. He wrote "Grant of Immunity" across the top.
"You understand that this grant implies that you must cooperate fully with the investigation that these officers are conducting," Kelly said.
"Yes, sir."
Kelly spent a quarter of an hour preparing the phony document. Finally, he signed it and handed it to Carr. It read:
In exchange for complete cooperation with Special Agent Charles Carr, U.S. Treasury Department, and Detective Ralph Higgins, Los Angeles Police Department, the District Attorney of the County of Los Angeles agrees not to prosecute Robert Chagra for the burglary committed this date at the residence, 1678 King's Circle Road, Beverly Hills, California. Immunity herein granted applies to no other crime in this nor any other jurisdiction and implies no further immunity for crimes. Cooperation by Robert Chagra is defined for purposes of this limited grant of immunity as his (Chagra's) full, complete, and honest efforts in the gathering of evidence concerning other conspirators.
Harry K. Weese
Deputy District Attorney
Carr handed the document to Chagra. He moved his lips as he read. When he finished, he looked up at Kelly, who reached out for the sheet of paper.
"Don't I get to keep the agreement?" Chagra said, drawing it toward him.
"Sure," Kelly said. "But I suggest you allow me to take it back to the courthouse and file it in the immunity file. If a dispute ever developed between you and these officers, the original copy would be in possession of the Office of the District Attorney. It will be a matter of legal record."
Chagra stared at the agreement for a moment, then looked at Carr.
Kelly stood up to leave. Grudgingly, Bones Chagra handed the agreement to Kelly.
Without expression, he flipped open his briefcase and dropped the agreement inside. He shut the briefcase and, after making another comment about being late for a hearing, rushed out the door.
Carr had the urge to sigh but didn't. "How do you and Bailey usually get in touch after you make a score?" he said.
"He usually phones me."
"Where?"
"At my apartment. He gives me a number and tells me to go to a pay phone. I call him back. He asks me how everything went. I tell him."
"Then what?"
"Then he picks me up. We drive around in his car and discuss where to fence everything. But lately he doesn't want to meet in person. He said there's too much heat."
"This isn't going to be easy," Higgins said.
"Does he talk freely on the phone?" Carr said.
Chagra shook his head. "No way. On the phone it's just yes and no and how'd everything go? He doesn't trust anyone. He's a cop, man."
"And when you meet in person?" Higgins said.
Chagra nodded. "He talks pretty freely."
"Did he ever tell you how he killed Amanda Kennedy?"
Chagra shook his head as if to say of course not. "This is not something he would do. The man is a loner. He doesn't spring with a lot of talk. He does his own thing and never says too much. He's the kind of guy that, if there's a lull in the conversation, he'll just wait you out until you say the next thing. I know what you're thinking about."
"What are we thinking about?" Higgins said.
"You're thinking about having me wear a transmitter when I meet with him. You want to record what he says to me for evidence." He paused. "Am I right?"
"You're right," Carr said.
"Then what happens?"
"Then we arrest Bailey for the murders of Amanda Kennedy and Lee Sheboygan," Higgins said.
"I don't think I can do it," Chagra said. "I really and truly don't think I can do it. If I'm being taped I'm afraid my knees will shake or something. He'll know something is wrong. He wouldn't hesitate to kill me on the spot if he thought I was
setting him up. He's told me he ain't going to the joint. No matter what. He means it. He's a cop. He knows he'd never survive."
"Do you feel particularly nervous right now?" Higgins said.
"Not particularly."
"What if I told you that we've been tape-recording every word you've said?"
Chagra glanced nervously at both men. "Then I'm nervous."
"That's my point," Higgins said. "When you wear the wire, just pretend that you're not. It's easy."
"Are you recording me right now?"
Higgins shook his head. "Nope."
Chagra scratched his head.
Carr stood up and started to move about the kitchen, straightening things up. Higgins gathered up the playing cards that were spread about on the coffee table in the living room.
"Where are we going now?" Chagra asked.
"To your apartment," Carr said.
"Sometimes he doesn't call the same day. It might be tomorrow ... or even the next day."
"We have patience," Carr said.
"And you're really going to let me go when this is over?"
"Yes."
Half asleep, Travis Bailey stood in front of his bedroom mirror. He buttoned his white shirt and tucked it into his trousers. As he straightened the button line in the shirt to meet the zipper line of his trousers (the gig line, as it was called at Pascoe Military Academy), he mused, as he had while he showered and shaved, over the possible causes of his recent insomnia. As Delsey flitted back and forth between the bedroom and the bathroom ratting her hair, he realized that she was, without doubt, one of the causes. He was getting sick of her. He just could not bring himself to fuck her in the morning any longer.
She came out of the bathroom and joined him at the mirror. "I want to handle some forgery cases," she said. "When you get Cleaver's job, don't forget." She applied lipstick and leaned forward to check it in the mirror. "Did you hear what I said?"
He nodded and wished she would disappear.
To Die in Beverly Hills Page 21