To Die in Beverly Hills

dialed the next number on the list.

FIFTEEN

Carr sat on a sofa. He wanted to smoke but he couldn't decide whether the crystal upturned hand on the coffee table in front of him was an ashtray. Gertrude Wallace sat across from him in a thronelike chair. She examined the silver plate.

'Yes,' she said. 'It's ours. It's definitely ours. Our jeweler engraved them. I must call my husband and tell him … Where are the other pieces? Will we get them back?'

'Yes,' Carr said, 'but it may take some time.'

'I hope it's by the end of the month. We have an important dinner planned. My husband and I have invited the Danish and the Swedish consuls and a whole group of studio people. You see, my husband's last movie was filmed on location in Denmark and Sweden-'

'Do you suspect anyone of having committed the burglary?' He gave the glass hand another inquisitive glance.

'It's an ashtray if you'd like to smoke,'

'Thanks.' Carr lit a cigarette and dropped the match in his hand.

'I used to smoke but I quit. I've never felt better in my whole life.'

Carr acknowledged her remark with a smile.

'We thought the maid had stolen our things,' she went on, 'and Detective Bailey pointed out to us that domestics are often involved in burglaries. We fired her the day after it happened. She made a big fuss.'

'Was there anything she did that caused you to suspect her?'

'She was in need of money to get her mother across the border. She'd been working next door at the Redfords on her days off in order to save money. I guess the temptation finally became too much for her.'

Carr puffed. He turned his head away from Gertrude Wallace and blew out smoke.

'It's funny,' she said. 'I smoked for many years, but I can sit here and watch you smoke and I haven't the slightest urge. Not the slightest.'

'Thinking back to a month or so before the burglary occurred … other than close friends and relatives, who visited your home?'

Gertrude Wallace touched the palm of her hand to her cheek. She sat that way for a moment. 'Come to think of it,' she said finally, 'I had just hired a new man to clean the pool. But I'd used him before, off and on, and never had any problems … and there was a group of ladies from the Cancer Foundation. I showed them all through the house. Certainly it couldn't have been them.'

'I agree,' Carr said. 'Was there anyone else?'

'Just my therapist. He's the one who cured me of my smoking. He's a psychiatrist.'

'How long have you known him?'

'Just for a few weeks, but he was recommended to me by a close friend. He's very well thought of … the highest recommendations. He's highly respected in his field.'

'I see. Had you ever met Detective Bailey before the burglary?'

She shook her head. 'We've never been burglarized before.'

Carr stood up. He took a final puff and carefully mashed the cigarette into the delicate ashtray. Having slipped a business card out of his shirt pocket, he handed it to her. 'If you remember anything else,' he said, 'I'd appreciate a call.'

'Certainly.' She rose and followed him to the door.

'You're at the right age to quit smoking,' she told Carr as he opened the door. 'Mature people have more self-discipline. Dr. Kreuzer told me some of his best patients were-'

'What did you say his name is?' Carr interrupted. He felt his heart race.

'Kreuzer,' she said. 'Dr. Emil Kreuzer. He's a hypnotherapist. He's been a savior to me … a real savior. I used to smoke until I had a sore throat.'

'How would I get in touch with him?' Carr tried to avoid sounding too eager. Could Emil Kreuzer have been released from prison already?

'Just a moment.' Gertrude Wallace returned to the living room.

As Carr stood in the hallway he remembered being told by a veteran T-man more than twenty years ago to never be surprised when investigation after investigation ended up focusing on the same crooks. As the old trooper told him, 'There are only so many bad guys in town. So when a case gets tough, check your old arrest cards.'

Gertrude Wallace quickly returned and handed Carr a business card with Kreuzer's name and a Wilshire Boulevard office address. Carr slipped it in his shirt pocket.

'I must warn you though,' she said pleasantly, 'he's always booked up weeks in advance, but he's worth the wait.'

Carr stepped off the elevator in the office building. He wandered down a hallway to a pair of high polished wooden doors bearing brass letters that read Probe Incorporated-Doctor E. Kreuzer.

Carr opened the door and stepped into a reception area furnished with leather sofas. A young girl who looked to be high school age sat at the reception desk. She hurriedly shoved the paperback book (nurse hugging handsome man on the cover) she was reading into a desk drawer.

'Do you have an appointment?' she asked, as she'd obviously been trained to do.

Carr shook his head and showed her his badge. She looked up at him in awe. 'Wow.'

'I'd like to see Doctor Kreuzer for a moment,' Carr said.

'Is that like the FBI?'

Carr nodded. The girl hurried into another room. On a wall behind one of the sofas Carr noticed a framed photograph of Emil Kreuzer shaking hands with the president of the United States. He could tell by the slight blurring of the hands that the photo was a composite fake.

Moments later Emil Kreuzer followed the girl out of the room. He approached Carr.

'Remember me?' Carr said with a disarming smile.

Kreuzer smiled back. 'Of course.'

As they shook hands, Carr noticed a flicker in the con man's carotid artery. His palm was sweaty.

Kreuzer ushered him into another office and closed the door. There was a large desk and a black leather Danish-modern sofa with a matching pillow. The walls were decorated with hypnotist's spirals and framed diplomas. Kreuzer offered him a chair.

'How's business?' Carr said, sitting down in front of a large desk.

'Emotion still rules reason,' Kreuzer said. He laughed nervously.

'Seen any of your old friends since you've been out?'

'As a matter of fact I haven't. And I'm not just saying that. I've broken all the old ties. I guess it's because of my age. Doing a deuce or a trey in the joint didn't seem like much of a jolt when I was thirty, but it seems like one hell of a lot at this stage in life. Believe it or not, I've cleaned up my act.'

'I could tell by that photograph of you and the president in the other room.'

'Just because the picture is a phony doesn't mean that I am. I use that as a psychological tool to gain my clients' trust for the purpose of hypnosis. The photo, being in their subconscious, helps them to relax and go into a trance. The photograph violates no law. If I'm asked about it, I always tell the truth.' He drummed his fingers on the desk.

'Mrs. Wallace told me that you cured her of her smoking habit.'

'Wallace?'

'She lives on Coventry Circle in Beverly Hills.' Carr stood up and walked to the window. On the street below he observed the crowds of people, many who seemed to be alone, as they roamed about and window-shopped in the exclusive business district. Few carried packages.

'Of course,' Kreuzer said. 'Mrs. Wallace. Her husband is the director.'

'Her home was burglarized.' Carr continued to stare at Wilshire Boulevard. Finally, he returned to his