Gerald Petievich - To Die in Beverly Hills

"I take it you've read the newspaper?" Kreuzer sipped coffee. "It sounds to me like the Feds are chasing their tail in Chicago."

"Anyone can plant a newspaper story. As a matter of fact, it's the kind of thing that Carr would do."

"It's one of the best scores I have ever seen. It's not like taking ten percent on furs and silver. This is gold. Cash to cash. But, of course, it's whatever you think. You're the expert, so to speak." Kreuzer chuckled, then stirred his coffee with a tiny spoon.

"How did you meet the woman?"

"A coffee klatch referral. She attended one of my hypnosis demonstrations." Kreuzer drank almost the entire cup of coffee and looked into the cup. Placing it to his lips again, he threw his head back and drained it. As he did so, Bailey noticed that Kreuzer had thick fingers. A diamond pinky ring he wore was half hidden in flesh.

"Alarms?"

Kreuzer shook his head. He pulled a white card from his pocket and handed it to Bailey.

Bailey read it. It was Peckham's address. "Dogs?"

"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."