Fly Me to the Morgue (3 page)

‘No, he's a beginner, but a talented one,' Dean testified.

‘Well,' Hope said, releasing my hand, ‘maybe we should discuss increasing the stakes.'

‘Let's talk about that, Bob,' Dean said, putting his arm around Hope's shoulders and walking away with him.

‘Higher stakes?' I said to Bing.

‘Don't worry, Eddie. Dino won't hold it against you if you cost him a bundle.'

I wondered if Bing Crosby had somehow orchestrated this little match to get back at me for bringing Jerry to Del Mar?

He smiled at me, though, in that Father O'Malley way he had, like in
The Bells of Saint Mary.

By the time we got to the eighteenth hole, Hope had me calling him Bob, but he was also keeping up a running string of one-liners that had to do with my skill as a golfer.

‘He's just tryin' to get under your skin,' Dean told me, at one point.

‘He's succeeding,' I said.

So at eighteen I was nervous. The hole was a par five. Dean said, ‘If you can do it in four, I might be able to get there in three. We could force a one hole sudden death play-off.'

‘Really?' I asked. ‘It wouldn‘t just end in a tie?'

‘No,' Dean said, ‘somebody's got to win, Eddie.'

‘I thought this was for fun, and some small stakes.'

‘Well,' he said, squirming, ‘the stakes have gotten a little bigger.'

They had been making some side bets along the way, which I hadn't taken part in because I was so new at golf. But my score probably would have the biggest impact on the final score.

‘No pressure, Eddie,' he said, ‘but I really would like to beat these two.'

I looked over at Hope and Crosby, who were laughing, totally relaxed.

‘Yeah,' I said, ‘yeah, so would I.'

‘Let's do it, then.'

FOUR

Hope and Crosby continued their jibes as I approached the tee, but, to give them credit, they kept quiet each time I addressed the ball, and the final hole was no different.

I'd had a couple of decent drives, mostly mediocre, but I hadn't shanked a ball since the first hole. Now I took my turn, stared down at the ball, concentrated, and swung.

I had heard golfer before talk about ‘kissing' a ball. Hitting it so well that it felt like a kiss. I'd never known what they were talking about until that moment.

I kissed it.

I heard Dean let out a breath. I looked over at Hope and Crosby and they were just staring, watching the ball soar, arc, and land.

Bing looked at me and said, ‘Nice drive, kid.'

Hope just shook his head.

We walked back to the golf cart with Dean's arm across my shoulder.

‘That drive should knock one stroke off,' he said. ‘You can get it on the green now, and then it's just a good putt. We have a shot at this, pally.'

As we got in the cart I felt bad. What if I disappointed Dino?

I made it to the green in two. Best hole of the day for me already.

Dino made it in two, also.

So did Bing.

Hope shanked it.

But with Hope, everything was an excuse for a good joke.

‘I get upset over a bad shot just like anyone else,' he said. ‘But it's silly to let the game get to you. When I miss a shot I just think what a beautiful day it is. And what pure fresh air I'm breathing. Then I take a deep breath. I have to do that. That's what gives me the strength to break the club.'

We all laughed, but I knew he was seething inside.

Once on the green I putted last. Bing missed a ten footer by inches, then bumped it in. Dino sank one from about fifteen. Hope got himself on the green and left an eight footer.

We had made up one stroke with Bing's missed putt, and another because it took Hope four to make the green. We were tied.

I had to sink an eighteen footer for a birdie. Hope had to sink his for par, and a tie, forcing a play-off.

‘Go ahead,' Hope said to me. ‘Shoot it.'

‘Age before beauty,' I said.

He had to smile at that.

‘You fit right in, don't you?'

He lined up his putt, stood over the ball. I saw him bite his lip just before he swung. The ball went straight and true, right for the cup . . . and stopped just on the lip.

He walked up to it and dropped it in. No joke. Then he walked away. A golfer would rather miss by a mile than have the ball hang.

If I made my putt, Dean and I would win. If I missed, we'd have a play-off, which I didn't want. I wanted to end it now. I was afraid I'd choke in a play-off.

The three of them stood off to the side, watching. I looked over at them. Three showbiz legends. Suddenly, I felt that if I missed I'd be disappointing all of them.

I lined up the putt, addressed the ball, held my breath . . . and swung.

I had watched Dean's fifteen footer. It had curved slightly, and I adjusted for that.

The ball went right into the cup.

Dean and Bing came over and slapped me on the back, congratulating me. Bob Hope walked over and shook my hand.

‘Clubhouse,' Dean said. ‘Drinks, on Hope and Crosby.'

‘Were those the stakes?' I asked.

Dean patted my cheek and said, ‘You kill me, kid.'

Back at the clubhouse we lined up at the bar for drinks. Mack Grey was there, too. Dean's majordomo had been waiting there for his master, his friend.

‘You should've seen it, Mack,' Dean said. ‘What a shot on the eighteenth. The kid's a natural.'

Mack looked at me and said, ‘Golf bores me.'

‘Me, too . . . or, at least, it used to.'

Hope and Crosby had to leave and Dean walked them to the exit. They both came over, shook hands with me and Bing said, ‘Great seein' you again, Eddie.'

‘You, too, Bing.'

‘I'll get you next time, kid,' Hope said with that crooked grin of his.

They left and I looked at Mack.

‘I won,' I said, proudly.

He slapped me on the back hard enough to dislodge some fillings and said, ‘Don't get overconfident, Eddie. They made you a thirty handicap.'

‘Thirty?'

Mack grinned.

‘They gave you a thirty shot head start, and you won by a single stroke.'

FIVE

I had become the ‘go to guy' for Frank, Dean and Sammy when they had a problem they needed handled discreetly. It was my own fault, really. Jack Entratter, my boss, had put me in that position a couple of times and I had come through. At the same time I liked to think I had formed a friendship with those guys, specifically Dino and Frank. Of course, I was never friends with each of them the way they were friends with each other, but when they were in town – together or separately – they usually invited me to dinner.

This time, however, Dean calling and inviting me to play golf was a surprise. More of a surprise to find that the invitation included Bob Hope and Bing Crosby.

Something was up.

When I got word in the afternoon that Entratter wanted to see me in his office I figured this was it.

‘Go right in,' his girl said to me as I entered. For some reason I didn't rate the usual look of disdain I got from her.

‘Jack,' I said, as I entered.

Jack and I had always had a cordial boss/employee relationship, during which I had never referred to him as anything but ‘Mr Entratter.' But ever since I had become ‘that guy' for him – the one who kept his ‘friends' safe – I had become much more comfortable calling him ‘Jack'. Sometimes.

‘Siddown, Eddie,' he said. ‘I heard you played golf with Dino, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby.'

‘That's right,' I said, taking a seat. ‘Dean invited me.'

‘You didn't beat them too bad, did you?'

‘One stroke.'

‘Yeah,' he said, ‘I heard they gave you a thirty handicap and you beat 'em by one.' He shook his head. ‘You almost blew a thirty shot head start?'

‘Hey,' I said, ‘I just started playin' a few months ago. I think I did pretty good.'

He started laughing.

‘What's so funny?'

‘I'm sorry,' he said, ‘I can just see you struttin' around the course like you accomplished somethin'.'

‘Did you bring me up here just to laugh at me?'

‘Pretty much. Want a drink?'

‘I've got to get back to my pit—'

‘Bourbon?' he asked, getting up.

‘Sure.'

He poured two bourbons, added ice and handed me one.

‘Dean's in town and he's not playin' anywhere,' I said. ‘What's that about?'

‘Frank Junior,' he said, sitting back down.

‘What?'

‘Frank Junior is opening next door,' Entratter said, ‘at the Flamingo.'

‘Why is he opening there and not here?' I asked.

‘Frank didn't want any favors for the kid,' he said. ‘He made Frankie get his own deal.'

‘And he got it next door? Kid's got balls. Is that why Hope and Crosby are in town?'

‘That's about the only thing that would bring Crosby here,' Entratter said. ‘He doesn't play Vegas. Doesn't want to play gaming establishments. But he's stayin' with us. So is Hope.'

‘So if Dean, Bing and Hope are here for the kid's opening,' I said. ‘Where's Frank?'

‘Frank's playin' a gig in Atlantic City for Skinny D'Amato. He's comin' to Vegas in a few days to play two nights here, and see the kid's last performance.'

‘I didn't know he was comin' here.'

‘It wasn't planned,' Entratter said. ‘We're movin' Vic Damone back two nights to make it work.'

‘Vic doesn't mind?'

‘Not when I told him it was Frank.'

I sipped my drink. So I was wrong about something being up. Dean wasn't here to ask for my help. He was just here to support Frankie.

‘Wait a minute,' I said. ‘How old is the kid?'

‘Nineteen.'

‘Isn't he a little young?'

‘Wayne Newton was younger when he started,' Jack said. ‘And the first time Frank Junior came here he was ten. He grew up in this business.'

‘You goin'?'

‘Openin' night,' he said.

‘When is that?'

‘Tomorrow.'

‘Maybe I'll go.'

‘If I'm not mistaken,' he said, ‘you're workin'.'

I stared at him.

‘Nah, I'm kiddin',' he said. ‘You can go. Now get back to work.'

‘Yeah,' I said, ‘right.'

I left the office, wondering why I was so uncomfortable with the fact that Jack Entratter had suddenly developed a sense of humor.

SIX

Dean was in Vegas without his wife, Jeannie, but both Hope and Crosby had brought their wives along. The four of them went out to dinner together, leaving Dean alone so he came down to the casino floor to find me.

‘Wanna get somethin' to eat?' he asked.

‘Didn't they invite you to the Road to Dinner?' I asked.

‘You gotta stop that,' Dean said.

‘Yeah, OK. Sure, I can go. What do you have in mind?'

‘I like the food in the Garden Room.'

‘Garden Room it is. Gimme ten.'

‘I'll go and get a table.'

As he headed for the Garden Room I went to get myself a replacement in the pit for a couple of hours. There was still a chance something was on Dean's mind, and maybe he was going to bring it up over dinner.

Dean was working on a cup of coffee when I got there.

‘I was thinkin' about the prime rib special,' he said as I sat down.

‘Always good,' I said. I waved a waitress over and ordered two prime rib dinners.

‘Right away, Mr Martin,' she said, even though I was the one who spoke.

‘Sitting with you always makes me feel so important,' I said to him.

‘Sorry, pally,' he said, looking down at his resplendent self. ‘It's the suit.'

‘I'm wearing a suit,' I pointed out.

‘It's the
expensive
suit,' he said, with a grin.

‘OK, you got me there,' I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table. ‘I heard about Frank Junior opening next door.'

‘Yeah, I'm gonna catch the kid's act tomorrow night,' Dean said. ‘You gonna go?'

‘I think so.'

‘He sounds a lot like Frank.'

‘That's not necessarily good, is it?' I asked. ‘I mean, there's already a Frank.'

He winced and commented, ‘That's what some people are sayin', but they should give the kid a break.'

Our prime ribs came and Dean asked for an iced tea to wash it down. I went the same way.

We caught up because we hadn't really seen each other since earlier in the year. He told me he and Frank were making another film together, a western called
Four For Texas
.

‘Four?' I asked.

‘Yeah, the other two are Ursula Andress and Anita Ekberg.'

‘Wow,' I said.

‘Joey'll have a part in it, too. It'll be fun. I've decided I'm only gonna make movies that are fun from now on.'

‘But why? Your dramatic films have been great. You get good reviews.'

‘Mostly,' he said, ‘but I don't have anything to prove to anybody, anymore. Actors like Brando and Monty Cliff give me respect. That's all I need. I'm just gonna make fun movies and not worry about critics. Westerns. I'm gonna make a lot of westerns. Oh, and those spy movies I told you about.'