To Die in Beverly Hills

better shot.' He winked at Delsey.

'Have you been involved in other shoot-outs?' the reporter asked.

'Yes, but I've always been able to come out on top.'

'Keep up the good work.'

'I'm just glad I was able to save Mr. Hartmann's life,' Bailey said in a serious tone. The phone clicked.

'Reporters used to call my father all the time,' Delsey said. 'When I was a kid, paparazzi would be waiting outside restaurants. Once they took a picture of us coming out of Perino's. A few days later there was an article in a movie magazine asking whether the young blonde seen with Rex Piper was going to be his sixth wife.' She giggled. 'That was at the time when my father was really big…right after he made Sundown Morning. He took me with him to Italy on location. I met some kids and we spent the whole summer smoking hash and taking trains around Europe. When we got back to the States the movie really hit. There were fans hanging around in front of our house all day. I used to flip 'em the bird out the window. Once this thirteen-year-old named daddy in a paternity suit. He told me he didn't do it but one of my girl friends had seen him with her at the Pro-Celebrity golf tournament. Our maid told me about her too. She used to tell me everything if I would give her a free day off when my father was out of town.' She sighed and caught her breath. 'Daddy finally settled out of court. He hired a private detective to handle the negotiations. Everyone in Hollywood knows my father as a real cockhound. Once when I came home from boarding school he had these two Puerto Rican women in his bedroom…' She laughed. 'It was really gross.'

Bailey left the sofa and strolled into the bedroom. He opened a dresser drawer and removed two marijuana cigarettes from a small wooden box. As he headed back toward the sofa, Delsey picked up where she had left off.

'The day my father's house was burglarized and you came over to investigate was the same day he accepted his first role in a dinner-theater musical. It was a blow to his ego. He said he couldn't get work in Hollywood because he fired his agent for cheating him on a contract and his agent's brother was a producer and between the two of them they destroyed his career…'

He tossed her a marijuana cigarette. She caught it.

'But I think the real reason was that my father is just getting old,' she said.

He lit a match and offered it to her. She leaned toward him and fired the cigarette. He lit his, and with a puff, felt a wave of relaxation. Bailey leaned back on the sofa and propped his legs up on the table. Delsey's voice seemed to emanate from far away,

'When you asked me if I wanted to be a police officer I thought you were crazy. But my father thought it was a great idea. I know I would have never been accepted on the Department if my father hadn't lived next door to the mayor. They're old friends from when they worked together on The Enchanted Castle.

'Don't forget that every cop on the Department knows that the mayor was your hook,' Travis Bailey said.

'Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke,' she said with a giggle. She cupped her hands around the roach and took a couple of deep drags. She held the smoke in her mouth, then let it crawl out. 'I can't wait till tomorrow. My first day as a detective…'

Bailey puffed. 'Go for it, baby.'

Charles Carr wandered around Jerome Hartmann's living room. The carpet was stained with the still-damp mixture of water and blood. In addition to the buckshot holes in the wall next to the hallway door, there was shattered glass and dried-up aquarium fish everywhere. In the middle of the mess, white tape outlined where the burglar's body had ended up.

Hartmann stood next to the sliding glass doors. He was dressed in tennis togs, which failed to hide his slack stomach muscles. He shook his head sadly. 'I had no idea when those hoods approached me that it would end up in something like this. It's like a bad dream,' he said. 'I can't tell you how grateful I am to Agent Kelly. I hope you will let me know if there is anything I can do for him or his family. I really mean that.'

Carr nodded. His eyes followed the reverse path of the bullet holes, from the wall to the bar. He stepped gingerly on the wet rug toward the hallway door where Kelly had been hit. Another tape mark.

'I guess I took a vacation at just the right time,' Hartmann said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Carr returned to the living room. He checked the lock on the sliding glass door. Having pulled out pad and pen, he made notes.

There was the sound of vehicles pulling into the driveway and car doors closing.

TV cameramen and photographers followed Travis Bailey in through the sliding doors. He winked at Carr. 'The Chief wants a little coverage,' he said. Flashbulbs popped. The newsmen jostled for position. Bailey pointed at the bullet holes. More photographs.

While this was going on, Carr drew a diagram of the room and the location of the evidence on his note pad. Having completed the sketch, he strolled out the glass door into the backyard. Hartmann followed. 'I'm a member of the Beverly Hills Police and Fire Commission,' he said. 'I intend to thank Detective Bailey publicly at the next meeting. It's a good feeling to know that one's police department is on the ball.'

Carr nodded approvingly. 'Did you tell anyone about your trip to Palm Springs?'

'Certainly not,' Hartmann said. 'I followed your instructions and didn't tell a soul. Not a soul…with the exception of the Beverly Hills Police Department. I phoned them and gave Detective Bailey a brief rundown before I left. I was worried about someone putting a bomb in my house while I was gone. Certainly you don't consider that a breach of confidence on my part?'

Carr shook his head. 'Of course not.' The photographers shuffled out of the house and piled into station wagons, then drove off.

Travis Bailey sauntered over to Carr. He shook his head mournfully. 'I really feel bad about Jack. It was just one of those things…a cross-fire situation.'

'These things happen,' Carr said ruefully.

'I hope Jack has no hard feelings.'

'He doesn't. And as a matter of fact, he asked me to tell you that.'

'I'm glad,' Bailey said. He patted Carr on the shoulder.

Carr avoided the urge to cringe and, instead, smiled at the detective.

'By the way,' Bailey said, 'what brings you back here?' He spoke as if he were doing nothing more than making conversation.

'I'm doing a diagram of the scene. My agent in charge loves lots of paperwork.'

'Why don't you just copy my reports? Save yourself some time.'

'Good idea. By the way, the powers that be want me to interview your informant. Do you see any problem with that?'

'None whatsoever,' Bailey said. 'If I knew where to find him… He split town right after the shooting. I'm afraid that he might be gone for good.'

Carr shrugged. 'I guess that was to be expected.'

Bailey glanced at his wristwatch. 'Gotta run. Press conference at the police station in ten minutes.' He waved as he rushed down the driveway.

The Beverly Hills apartment complex was shielded from Wilshire Boulevard traffic noise by a high wall and replanted palm trees. Though it was a weekday, suntanned men and women (most of whom seemed to be fighting midriff bulge) roamed and lounged around a swimming pool and a couple of tennis courts. Carr figured the rents would be three or four times what he paid for his Santa Monica one-bedroom.

Carr approached a ground-floor apartment with a Manager sign on the door. He knocked. An attractive, fortyish woman wearing a turquoise lounging outfit with matching scarf answered the door. He held out his badge. 'Federal officer,' he said. 'Are you the manager?'

'Yes.'

'Which apartment is Leon Sheboygan's, Miss…'

'Kennedy. Amanda Kennedy. Mr. Sheboygan lives in apartment nineteen,' she said haughtily. 'What seems to be the problem?'

'Mr. Sheboygan is dead.'

The woman's jaw dropped. 'My God,' she said, covering her mouth with her hand, 'what happened?'