Travis Bailey motioned to the waitress. She came to the table. He paid the bill and left her a sizable tip. 'You first,' he said with a nod toward the door.
'Huh?'
'You leave first.'
Chagra nodded, stood up to leave.
'Go for it,' Travis Bailey said offhandedly. Chagra left. The women at the next table continued to eat, chat loudly and dab their mouths with napkins as Bailey sat deep in thought. He rubbed his temples and felt what he believed to be an increase in his heart rate. Finally he pushed his chair back and stood up. He left the restaurant and strolled casually past trendy shops toward his police car. At the corner, he window-shopped at a store with a window display featuring a mannequin couple attired in thick canary yellow vests standing in front of an enormous human silhouette target decorated with bullet holes. A sign leaning next to one of the mannequins read The Latest in Men's and Women's Bulletproof Sportswear. He crossed the street and climbed in his car.
Back at the Detective Bureau, he opened a file drawer next to a telex machine and rummaged through the day's stack of crime Teletypes. In the middle of the stack he found a homicide Teletype that read as follows:
To: All L.A. area Vice and Homicide details
Fm: Santa Barbara Sheriff's Dept.
Re: 187 PC Victim
Fem. cauc. 34 yrs, 5'4', 110, possible prostitute.
Female corpse found in bushes off Highway I near El Capitan Beach had pocket litter and trick book with L.A. area phone numbers. Only I.D. found on body is expired Calif. Driver's License. No suspects. Cause of death appears to be bullet wound to rear skull. Request you check with vice details re: possible L.A. area associates.
He shoved the stack of Teletypes back in the drawer and left the office. He walked down the street to a drugstore and bought a package of chewing gum.
Outside the drugstore, he stepped into a telephone booth, fished a dime out of his pocket and dialed. He unwrapped two sticks of the gum and, after a few chews, used his index finger to position the gum between his teeth and upper lip.
A man answered, 'FBI.'
'I know who set tip the attempted murder on the bank president in Beverly Hills,' Bailey said. 'The one who is a witness in the counterfeiting case.'
'May I send a special agent out to meet with you, sir?'
'No,' Bailey said. 'I don't want to get involved. The guy who wanted the bank president killed is Tony Dio. He's a loan shark. He hired a guy named Leon Sheboygan to kill the bank president. It was a contract thing. Dio provided the gun. It was a thirty-two.'
'I'm familiar with the name, sir,' the FBI agent said. 'May I ask where you got the information?'
'Look, I said I don't want to get involved,' Bailey said angrily, 'But I'll tell you this much, just so you won't think I've made up the whole story. I'm dating a girl that just broke up with Dio. She was living with him and overheard Dio lay the whole thing out to Sheboygan. She was in another room at Dio's house when Dio laid the contract on this Lee. She heard the whole thing. Dio told him that the bank guy was leaving town for a vacation and that he had to hurry up and do the job. Is this call being taped?'
'No, sir,' the FBI man said. 'You have my word on that. We'd like to interview the lady who gave you the information. If you'll give me her name I'll guarantee that your name will never be mentioned. We could question her on a routine basis.'
'I don't want to get involved,' Bailey said. 'I'm a married man and I've got too much to lose.'
'You have my personal assurance that we will never reveal you as the source of information.'
Bailey waited before speaking.
'Sir? Sir? Are you still there?'
'Her name is Jackie Waters.'
'How old is she?'
'She's about thirty-five,' Bailey said. 'I'm not going to answer any more questions. I've probably said too much already.'
'Can you give me her address?'
'She left town,' Bailey said. 'A couple of days ago she told me she thought Dio was acting strangely … as if he didn't trust her. He ended up slapping her around. She was scared to death and left town. She told me she thought Dio had let a contract on her. She was so scared she couldn't eat.'
'Is she employed?'
'I guess you could say that.'
'How did she earn a living?'
'She was a call girl,' Bailey said. 'Tony Dio got her started.'
'Where do you think she is now?'
'She said something about Santa Barbara,' Bailey said in his best sincerity tone. 'I'm worried. She hasn't called and I think something has happened to her. I think I've said enough.'
'Sir, it would be a real help if we could get together in person just for a few minutes-'
'I don't want to get involved,' Bailey said, and hung up.
Though it was only 7:00 A.M., the California sun could already be felt on the back of one's neck. Carr, in an early-morning hangover haze, pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop near the Field Office. Dreadful fare, but it was convenient and there was always room in the parking lot. He staggered inside.
Because he considered it a hangover cure, Carr ordered the 'Lumberjack Special' from a waitress with a beehive hairdo who he hoped would not want to talk about her son who was serving a year in the county jail. A stocky, broad-featured woman who lacked any hint of poise, she scribbled his breakfast order on a pad. Having completed the order, she slipped the stub of pencil under rubber bands on her wrist. 'You look like you could use a shot of whiskey in your coffee,' she said, putting her hands on her hips.
'I'll never drink again,' Carr muttered.
'Sure, she said on her way to the kitchen.
Carr sipped ice water. It hurt his teeth.
The waitress returned carrying a newspaper, which she set on the table before sitting down across from him. 'This guy I'm going out with told me that my boy should have never pled guilty. He said that if he would have asked for a jury trial, the District Attorney would have made a plea- bargain and he would have gotten straight probation. He only had half an ounce in his car when he was arrested. Do you think he's right?'
'They don't call it plea bargaining anymore,' Carr said. 'It's called case settlement.'
'Which means that you plead guilty to something that maybe you didn't even do in order to get less time in jail, right?'
'Right.' Carr noticed No Waves walking toward him from the take-out counter. He carried coffee in a Styrofoam cup with a plastic lid.
The waitress glanced. 'He's your boss, isn't he?' she whispered.
Carr nodded.
'He never leaves tips,' she said as she slid out of the booth and headed toward another table.
No Waves smirked. 'You look like you might have had a few too many last night,' he said.
Without looking up Carr opened the newspaper.
'Got a call at home last night from the FBI,' Waeves said. 'They're confirmed that Tony Dio hired Sheboygan for the hit.'
'Who told 'em that?' Carr said, keeping his eyes on the newspaper.
'An informant. Everything he told them has checked out, including info about a hooker whose body was found in Santa Barbara. The informant knew all about it. She was killed because she knew about the Sheboygan thing. She overheard Dio lay the contract on him to kill Hartmann. FBI is opening a case on it from the organized- crime angle. You'd better get over there today and see what they've got.'
Carr nodded without looking up from the newspaper.
'Like maybe right after you finish breakfast.'
Carr glanced at him. 'Sure.'
