To Die in Beverly Hills Read Online Free Page A

butt-boy. Just the idea of that pencil-necked, mealy-mouthed, back-stabbing mama's boy evaluating me and trying to get me transferred..."
    "Don't think about it," Carr said as he turned a corner. "He's not worth the trouble." He steered past a commercial area into old Chinatown, a maze of pagoda-style buildings with gaudy neon trim. The walkways were crowded with families of tourists milling about in a sea of souvenir shops and Chinese restaurants with anglicized names. Carr pulled the sedan into a small parking lot between Ling's bar and a tailor shop. As he climbed out of the car, the mild scent of incense, cooking steam and fried shrimp enveloped him.
    An hour later, most of the twelve seats at Ling's bar were still filled. It was the usual crowd, mostly detectives and federal investigators from various agencies, all dressed in cheap suits. At the end of the bar sat a pair of puffy-eyed blondes who Carr knew were secretaries at the courthouse.
    Carr and Kelly sat on their usual stools. God only knew why the dusty place had become the favorite hangout over the years. It certainly wasn't the wall decorations: cheap oriental tapestries of swans floating on a lake, an autographed black-and-white photo of a deputy chief of the L.A. Police Department, a family photo of Ling and his three homely brothers.
    Ling, a middle-aged man sporting a clip-on bow tie and granny glasses, stood by a sink at the opposite end of the bar giving cocktail glasses his usual one quick dip and drain treatment.
    "Any case Bailey touches is destined to turn to shit," Kelly said. "You can ask anybody in here... he never comes across with the whole story. Never. I'lltell you right now, the first thing he's going to say is that his informant is super-secret and the case is the biggest thing that ever came down the pike. It's his M.O. The man is a known bullshitter...a weasel. Working with him is like being a mushroom; he keeps you in the dark and feeds you shit." Kelly took a big drink of scotch. "It wouldn't surprise me if he had his finger in the till somewhere. He's definitely the type."
    "It wouldn't surprise me either," Carr said, jiggling the ice in his emptied glass.
    "And he doesn't drink," Kelly said. "Think of it. Have you ever met a man who wouldn't take a drink that could be trusted?"
    Carr shook his head.
    Travis Bailey moved past the inner door of hanging beads. His sport coat looked tailored and a red silk handkerchief was perfectly positioned in the lapel pocket.
    Kelly slid over one stool and made room for Bailey to sit down. The men shook hands. Bailey ordered a straight soda. "I'm glad I was able to get in touch with you fellas," he said grimly as he adjusted his gold cuff links. "This thing is for real and I don't like to work with people I don't know." He glanced around the bar furtively. "They're going to hit the bank president at his house. The word is they're going to kill his old lady too if she's there. They don't want to leave any witnesses. The informant was very sure of that."
    Carr sipped his drink. "Who let the contract?" he asked.
    Bailey shrugged. "Unknown at this point, but it's definitely family. A Mafia contract all the way. No doubt about that."
    "Tony Dio?" Kelly said.
    "It could very well be Dio," Bailey said. "Just a supposition, but judging from where my info came from, I'd say Dio would be a very good guess."
    "Where did the information come from?" Carr said, looking Bailey in the eye.
    "My informant has proven reliable at least twenty times in the past," Bailey said. He sipped soda. "If he says something is going to happen, it happens. I've locked up loads of people behind his information. Loads . Hisword is good enough for a search warrant."
    The three men were silent for a while, each mulling over what was about to go down. The blondes at the end of the bar giggled loudly about something while someone else dropped coins in the jukebox, bringing the noise back up to its earlier level. Carr waved at Ling for