Carr shook his head. "Did the property receipt have a-"
"The time stamp shows that she bailed out last night at nine-fifteen." Higgins stood up and stretched.
Carr took a deep drag on his cigarette, flicked an ash. "What do you think?"
"I think she knew a secret."
"Me too." Carr picked up the telephone and dialed the Women's jail. He learned that Amanda Kennedy's bond had been posted by a bail bondsman named Cecil DeMille. Carr wrote down the bondsman's address as the jail clerk read it off the bail release form. Higgins looked over his shoulder as he wrote.
"He's a receiver of stolen property," Higgins said after he'd hung up. "Burglars who want out on bail trade diamonds and furs for his signature on a bail bond. He never touches the swag himself … has it delivered to a hotel room and one of his stooges picks it up and fences it. He's been arrested a couple of times, but he hires good lawyers. They postpone the case until witnesses disappear or the case winds up with a friendly judge."
"Let's pay him a visit." The two men got up and left, quickly making the trip back down the San Gabriel Mountains.
THIRTEEN
The West Los Angeles neighborhood was a jumble of stucco apartment houses that needed painting, small commercial buildings and car lots. The streets were congested with both parked cars and moving traffic. Everyone was coming or going, heading to or from the nearby freeway. Down the street was an empty lot that Carr knew was once a movie studio.
Higgins parked the unmarked police sedan at the curb in front of a tiny office building with a large sign on the roof that resembled a movie marquee. It read:
Bail Bonds-24 hours
directed by
Cecil DeMille
A cast of thousands to serve you 24 hours per day.
"We'll have to play it by ear," Higgins said as they got out of the car and approached the door of the building. Inside, a young blonde woman wearing a knit dress sat at a reception desk in front of an inner-office door, talking on the phone. "May I help you?" she asked, setting the receiver down.
Higgins flashed his badge. "Is Cecil DeMille in?"
"No," she said as she pressed a doorbell-style button attached to the side of her desk. "He's gone for the day. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Higgins glared at the woman while she sat fidgeting nervously. Suddenly he stepped past her to the inner office and opened the door.
"Just what may I ask are you doing?" she said angrily, standing up.
Carr followed Higgins into the inner office, where a fortyish, overweight man with a Fu Manchu moustache sat behind a desk. His ebony hair was full at the collar and he wore a golf shirt that accentuated his fatty pectoral muscles. Higgins showed the man his badge as the blonde woman rushed in behind them.
"I couldn't stop them," she said apologetically. "They just walked right in."
Without expression, Cecil DeMille folded his arms across his chest and stared at the two cops for a moment. "Close the door and leave us alone," he said. The secretary backed out of the office closing the door behind her.
"I just want to hear what is so important that you would walk right into someone's office," DeMille said. "After I hear it, I'll decide whether or not I throw both of you out the way you came in. And just so we get things straight right off the bat, I want you to know that I'm a law school graduate. I know I have the legal right to throw you fuckers out of here right now. You're not dealing with some dumb ex-con that's sweating getting his parole violated."
"We want to know who bailed out Amanda Kennedy," Higgins said.
"Who the hell is Amanda Kennedy?"
"Your name is on her bail release form," Higgins said. "She was released from the Women's jail last night around nine."
"I bail out lots of people every night. The name doesn't ring a bell."
"She was murdered shortly after she was released," Higgins continued. "Does that ring a bell?"
"What happens to people after I get them out of jail is something I have no control over." He picked up a ballpoint pen and clicked it a few times.
The men looked at each other without speaking while Cecil DeMille continued to click his pen.
"We just received a tip from an informant that you were involved in the woman's murder," Higgins said. "We stopped by to see if you could clear the matter up for us."
DeMille set the pen on the desk. "Bullshit."
"I'll ask you again," Higgins said. "Who retained you to post bail for Amanda Kennedy?"
"Like I said, I post bail for a lot of people every night. I have no recollection of the name you asked me about."
"Would you mind checking your records?" Higgins said. "I'm sure you have records…"
"I'm tied up with some other things today. Why don't you check back with me sometime next week?" DeMille flashed a mock smile.
"Since you're a lawyer, I guess you're familiar with the term probable cause?" Higgins said, his tone becoming slightly impatient.
"Of course."
"Then you'll understand that since you were the last person to see Amanda Kennedy alive, that I have probable cause to arrest you for her murder."
DeMille stood up and pointed to the door, his flabby chest jiggling. "Get out of my office," he said angrily. "No one threatens me in my office. I mean it. Get the fuck out of here."
Higgins reached under his coat and unfastened a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "You'll be going with us, fat boy. You're under arrest for murder. Put your hands on top of your head," he said, moving toward him.
"You people are gonna regret this. I'm gonna sue for false arrest." He backed away. "This is an illegal arrest. I have a right to resist."
Higgins stepped closer, wrapping the cuffs around his right fist like brass knuckles. Carr went over to the door and locked it. In a fighting stance, Higgins moved closer to DeMille. "Come on, clown, you still wanna resist?"
DeMille looked frantic as he backed up until he was against the wall. "I don't know who the guy was who bailed her out," he said. "It was the first time I'd ever seen him."
"What was his name?" Carr said.
"He was a friend of a friend." DeMille's eyes were wide and focused on Higgins, who dropped his guard but remained standing directly in front of DeMille, twirling the handcuffs. "I don't know his real name. I swear to God."
"What name do you know him by?" Carr said.
"Just a nickname." DeMille kept his eyes on Higgins.
"Bondsmen don't post bonds for people they don't know," Carr said.
Cecil DeMille's eyes darted briefly from Higgins to Carr. With a catlike motion, Higgins snatched DeMille's wrist and twisted. DeMille groaned as he went to his knees and a handcuff was snapped on the wrist. He yanked the bondsman's other arm behind him and snapped on the other handcuff.
"His name is Bones," DeMille said. "That's all I know. I met him at a crap game one night about a year ago."
Higgins grabbed DeMille's collar. He jerked him to his feet, then roughly pushed him down into his desk chair. "Where's the file?" Higgins said.
"Will you let me go if I tell you?"
"Maybe," Carr said.
DeMille nodded toward a gray metal filing cabinet. "Top drawer."
Carr went over to the cabinet, opened the drawer and dug out a manila file folder with the word Bones scribbled on its tab. Carr opened the folder. Inside was a pink copy of a bail bond information form with Amanda Kennedy's name, date of birth and jail booking number typed on preprinted lines. In the section marked Collateral, the word Bones had been printed. There was nothing else on the form. Carr closed the folder and tossed it back in the drawer.
"What did he tell you when he asked you to bail her out?" Carr said.