"Well, that was never established in a court of law, was it?"

"Are you saying he wasn't?"

"If he was, it was unknown to the co-owners of the shop." Bellis's smile grew tighter and he didn't look so much like Howdy Doody now.

I smiled at him. "Who are the co-owners, Mr. Bellis?"

Harold Bellis looked at my card as if, in the looking, something had been confirmed. "Perhaps if you told me your interest in all of this."

"Mr. Washington's family implied that he was the sole owner of the Premier, but upon checking, I found that something called the Lester Corporation arranged the financing and carried the paper."

"That's right."

"Since Mr. Washington had no credit history, and was working at a minimum-wage job at the time, I was wondering why someone would co-sign a loan with him for such a substantial sum of money."

Harold Bellis said, 'The Lester Corporation provides venture capital for minority businessmen. Lewis Washington made a proposal, and we agreed to enter into partnership. That's all there is to it."

"To the tune of eighty-five thousand dollars."

"Yes."

You co-signed a loan for a man with no formal education, a criminal record, and no business experience, because you like to help underprivileged entrepreneurs?"

"Someone has to, don't you think?" He leaned forward out of the Sante Fe chair and the Howdy Doody eyes were as hard as a smart bomb's heart. Nope, he wouldn't be sissy in the clinches.

I said, "Does Akeem D'Muere own the Lester Corporation?"

Bellis didn't move for a long moment and the eyes stayed with me. The smart bomb acquiring its target. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss the Lester Corporation or any other client, Mr. Cole. You understand that, don't you?"

"I understand it, but I was hoping that you'd make an exception."

The hard eyes relaxed and some of the Howdy Doody came back. Howdy Doody billing at a thousand dollars an hour. "Do you suspect that this Mr. D'Muere has something to do with Lewis Washington's death?"

"I don't know."

"If you suspect someone of criminal activity, you should report it to the police."

"Perhaps I will." Elvis Cole makes his big threat.

Harold Bellis glanced at his watch and stood up. The watch was a Patek Philippe that wholesaled out at maybe fourteen thousand dollars. Maybe if you could blow fourteen grand on a watch and keep Hockney originals around for office decorations, you didn't think twice about giving eighty-five thousand to a total stranger with no credentials and a spotty past. Of course, you didn't get rich enough for the watch and the Hockneys by not thinking twice. Harold Bellis said, "I'm sorry I couldn't be more help to you, Mr. Cole, but I really have to see my client now." He looked at my card again. "May I keep this?"

"Sure. You can have a couple more, if you want. Pass'm out to your friends. I can use the work"

Harold Bellis laughed politely and showed me to the door. The thin woman reappeared and led me back through the office and out to the lobby. I was hoping she'd walk me down to my car, but she didn't.

Outside, my car was still bracketed by the Rolls and the Mercedes, and gentlemen of indeterminate national origin were still going into Pierre's to buy three-hundred-dollar belts and twelve-hundred-dollar shoes. Slender women with shopping bags and tourists with cameras crowded the sidewalks, and foreign cars crept along the outside lanes, praying for a parking space. I had been inside maybe fifteen minutes and not much had changed, either with Beverly Hills or with what I knew, but I am nothing if not resourceful.

I fed quarters into the parking meter and waited. It was eleven twenty-five.

At sixteen minutes after noon, Harold Bellis came out of his building and walked north, probably off to a business lunch at a nearby restaurant. Eleven minutes later, his assistant, Martha, appeared out of the parking garage driving a late-model Honda Acura. She turned south.

I ran back across the street, rode the elevator up to Bellis's floor, and hurried up to the receptionist, giving her the Christ- my- day- is- going- to- hell smile. "Hi. Martha said she'd leave my calendar with you."

She gave confused. "Excuse me?"

"When I was here this morning, I left my date book in Harry's office. I called and Martha said she'd leave it with you for me."

The receptionist shook her head. "I'm sorry, but she didn't."

I gave miserable. "Oh, man. I'm screwed. It's got all my appointments, and my account numbers. I guess it just slipped her mind. You think it'd be okay if I ran back there and checked?" I gave her expectant, and just enough of the little boy so that she'd know my fate in life rested squarely on her shoulders.

"Sure. You know the way?"

"I can find it."

I went back past the assistants and the cubicles to Martha's office. It was open. I went in and closed the door, then looked over the files until I found the client index. It took maybe three minutes to find the client index and twenty seconds to find the Lester files.

The articles of incorporation of the Lester Corporation, a California corporation, were among the first documents bound in the Lester Corp files. The president of the Lester Corporation was listed as one Akeem D'Muere. D'Muere's address was care of The Law Offices of Harold Bellis, Attorney-at-Law. Sonofagun.

I flipped through the files and found records of the acquisitions of nine investment properties throughout the South Central Los Angeles area, as well as two properties in Los Feliz and an apartment building in Simi Valley. The purchases included two bars, a laundromat, and the pawnshop. The rest were residential. I guess the weasel-dust business pays.

The Premier Pawn Shop location was purchased nine months and two days prior to Charles Lewis Washington's death. There was a contract with a property management firm for six of the businesses, as well as receipts from contractors for maintenance and renovation work performed on seven of the businesses. Each property had a separate file. The Premier showed plumbing and electrical work, as well as a new heating and air conditioning unit, and there was also a receipt from something called Atlas Security Systems for the installation of an Autonomous Monitoring System, as well as a Perimeter Security Alarm. Similar systems had also been purchased for the two bars. I wasn't sure what an Autonomous Monitoring System was, but it sounded good. The cost of these things and their installation was $6,518.22, and there had been no mention of them in the police reports. Hmm.

I wrote down the phone number of Atlas Security Systems, then closed the file, and borrowed Martha's phone to call them. I told a guy named Mr. Walters that I was a friend of Harold Bellis's, that I owned a convenience store in Laguna Niguel, and that I was thinking of installing a security system. I told him that Harold had recommended Atlas and something called an Autonomous Monitoring System, and I asked if he could explain it. Mr. Walters could. He told me that the Autonomous Monitoring System was perfect for a convenience store or any other cash business, because it was an ideal way to keep an eye on employees who might steal from you. The AMS was a hidden video camera timed to go on and off during business hours, or whenever a motion sensor positioned to my specifications told it to. He gave me cost and service information, and then I thanked him and told him that I'd get in touch.

I hung up the phone, returned the files to their cabinets, left the door open as I had found it, then walked out past the receptionist and drove to my office.

As I drove, I thought about the video equipment.

No one shot at me on the way, but maybe they were saving that for later.