"I'd rather not," said Carr. "I'll be happy to explain why if you'll just let me have a few minutes ok your time."
Kelly pulled up in the sedan and swung open the rear door.
"I don't really understand all the secrecy, but…oh, what the hell." Hugging his briefcase, Waxman crawled across the back seat. Carr slid in next to him.
"This does seem a little overdone," Waxman said.
Kelly drove up cement ramps to the busy street. "Stuffy down there," he said. "I'll just drive around a little bit."
"What do you people have to do with this thing? I was interviewed last night by the Robbery-Homicide people, and I'll tell you exactly what I told them. I have no control over what my employees do on their own time." He spoke carefully.
Kelly looked at Carr in the rearview mirror.
Carr spoke. "A week ago a Treasury agent was murdered with a sawed-off shotgun when he was working undercover. Someone named Ronnie and a red-haired man about fifty years old were the ones who did it. I think they were the ones who dumped your stooge last night."
Waxman leaned back in the seat with no expression. He cleared his throat. "So?"
"So I want you to tell me who they are." Carr paused. "I'll give you my word that what you say will go no further."
Waxman gazed out the window as if sightseeing. "Gentlemen, you don't really expect me to sit here in the back seat of this car and give you a statement about something I know nothing about, and thus incriminate myself, do you? In case you didn't know, I am an attorney at law." He turned to Carr. "Would you like one of my cards?"
Kelly stopped for a light.
"Your card says you're a money man and that you never dirty your hands," Carr said. "My partner and I respect you for that. It may sound funny, but we actually do. We know that if you didn't act as a middleman somebody else would. To you it's strictly a business proposition, a way to pick up a few bucks. The people who own Standard Oil and AT amp; T would do the same thing if they weren't making so much money in other ways. All we're asking is that you do something that is in your best interest. Last night your right-hand man got his guts blown out in a parking lot. It could just as easily have been you. The rip-off artist could have dumped you right in your office. Blown your brains out the window onto Wilshire Boulevard…"
Waxman frowned. "You needn't be so graphic."
"I'm not finished," Carr said.
"Excuse me."
"They probably showed you a sample; you made the arrangements and agreed on the price. They met your man and ripped him off. You have nothing to lose by helping us, by telling us what you know," Carr said.
"On the other hand, counselor, I have nothing to gain," Waxman said, smirking.
Carr waited a few minutes before speaking. "Yes, you do."
"What's that?"
"You will have our word that we will not put you completely out of business."
Waxman took out a monogrammed handkerchief and wiped his head, neck, and mouth.
Kelly accelerated onto the freeway at Ninth Street.
"Who are you people? Where are we going? What do you mean put me out of business? Jesus Christ!" Waxman said. He rolled his window down a few inches.
"I'll tell you what I mean," Carr said, leaning back in the seat. "If you don't tell us, the heat will be on full blast the minute you get out of this car. Tomorrow you and your secretary get subpoenas to the federal grand jury. I guarantee TV cameras will be there when you appear. I'll contact every one of your clients and ask them the same questions I asked you. I'll put the word out on the street that you are a snitch; that you're ready to turn on all the big dealers in town. We'll camp out in front of your office and your home. I'll dedicate my life to fucking you over. No one in his right mind would want you to back a deal. You'll be back to chasing ambulances."
Waxman grabbed the front seat with both hands. He spoke to Kelly.
"Stop the car! I want out. Let me out right this minute! Right now! I said rightnow!" He tapped Kelly's shoulder.
Kelly speeded up. "Keep your hands off me, you dirty, shit-eating bastard. You filthy, rotten, mother-fucking Communist shyster," he snarled.
Waxman's eyes became big.
Carr misted in the back seat and faced him.
"Your crummy little brain has figured everything out, hasn't it?" Carr said. "You are going to pull every political string in town the moment you can get to a phone. You're going to call the United States attorney and every political hack in town and tell them how the T-men threatened you. You think you can get us reprimanded and taken off the case. Well, if your connections are as good as everybody says, you're probably right. We would be taken off the case. Nothing else would happen to us though, because you have no evidence. If we'd talked in your office, you could have recorded everything, but as it stands now, it's your word against ours, and I guarantee that we will have our story together."
The lawyer folded his arms and sat back. "I want to go back to my office. Right now. I demand to go back right now. I insist that…"
"But here's the punch line," Carr said. "After you get us taken off the case, we're going to wait until everything is just right and then we're going to catch you alone and beat you to death."
Waxman's jaw dropped. "What?"
"Beat you to death," Carr said. "We're going to beat you to death with our bare hands because we will be so pissed off. You have so many enemies in town no one will even suspect us."
Waxman turned his head. "You are threatening me," he said to the window.
"That's right, you subhuman, chickenshit pimp," Kelly said.
He took the Alvarado Street off-ramp. A few blocks farther he slowed down and stopped next to Echo Park Lake. He turned off the engine. Smog-colored ducks coasted on greenish water. The lake was outlined by graffiti-covered palm trees and overflowing trash cans.
Kelly parked and leaned an arm on the back of his seat. "I say why put off till tomorrow what you can do today?" He smiled strangely at the lawyer.
The lawyer swallowed and turned his head. He stared out the window. He cleared his throat three times. "You people are up tight for nothing. You're off base. I don't know anything that can help you. You may not believe me, but I actually have no information on the topic you are interested in. I swear to God. You're wasting your time talking to me… and your threats don't frighten me. You want this guy pretty bad, don't you?" The lawyer's lower lip trembled. He quickly rubbed it with the back of his hand.
"All I want is what you know," Carr said. "No more, no less."
"Once I had a client who was charged with stealing some of those ducks over there; he was charged with grand-theft duck, believe it or not," said Waxman, with a nervous laugh. "He never did say what he was going to do with them. He wouldn't cop out even to me." He paused. "What makes you think a red-haired guy was involved?"
"You first," Carr said.
Waxman spoke in a monotone. "There is a chap named Red Diamond, just out of T. I., a con man, who is hurting for bucks. The sharks are after him. He came to see me a few days ago and wanted money. I shined him on. He's the only red-haired guy I can think of. Ronnie was a walk-in. He came in yesterday. I'd never seen him before. I never would have guessed Red Diamond. Red lives in Hollywood somewhere. That's all I know."
Carr nodded to Kelly in the rearview mirror.
Kelly started the engine and drove in the direction of Waxman's office. During the trip, Waxman told them three times that threats of any kind had no effect on him. Neither Carr nor Kelly spoke. Kelly pulled up in front of the modern glass structure, and Waxman got out without saying a word.
Kelly drove two blocks to a coffee shop. The waitress smiled when he asked for extra hash browns, and an extra bottle of ketchup.