Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand) (8 page)

I
NEVER SHOULD HAVE
said anything about Jerry being able to cook, because that reminded him that he was hungry. Again, true to his word, he had made breakfast for us earlier in Vegas. But several hours had passed, erasing all memory of a full stomach.

“When’s the last time you ate?” I asked Sammy.

“I don’t remember.”

We called room service and ordered three full breakfasts and a pot of coffee. Jerry and I didn’t finish our drinks, but Sammy did. In fact, booze was probably all he’d had since the night before.

“Sammy, why don’t you go take a shower,” I suggested. “By the time you come out the food’ll be here.”

“Yeah,” Sammy said, rubbing one hand over his face. “Yeah, okay.” He stubbed out the cigarette. “I’ll be right back.”

I hoped he wouldn’t light another butt in the shower.

“We gonna stick around today?” Jerry asked.

“Might as well. They didn’t get their money last night, so somebody’ll probably make contact today, right?”

“I would.”

I grabbed the three drink glasses, went to the bar, emptied Jerry’s and mine into the sink, and left all of them there.

“He don’t look so good, Mr. G.,” Jerry said.

“I know. Let’s see if we can get some food into him, and then maybe we can get him to lie down.”

“We could slip him a mickey.”

I stared at him. Did he just happen to have a pill in his pocket?

“Forget it,” I said. “He’s so tired he’ll fall right to sleep.”

“Or I could just give him a little love tap, ya know, to put ’im out?”

“No love taps on Sammy Davis Jr., Jerry,” I said.

“Yeah, okay.”

I sat back down and waited for either Sammy or room service, whichever came first.

“I don’t hear a shower running,” Jerry said.

“Maybe’s it’s too far away.”

“This suite ain’t that big.”

“I better check.”

I got up, went down the hall and into the bedroom. Sammy was lying on the bed, fast asleep. He’d never made it to the shower.

Jerry finished off both breakfasts before I finished mine.

“I think I’ll call down for some sandwiches,” I said. “That way Sammy can eat something when he gets up.”

“Sandwiches are good,” he said. “Get some extra.”

I shook my head.

I called down and ordered the food, then hung up and walked to the window. There wasn’t much to see. The suite’s window overlooked the back parking lot.

“If the phone rings we’re gonna have to wake him up,” Jerry said.

“Maybe not,” I said. “They know I was the go-between. They’ll probably talk to me.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Jerry gathered the plates and trays together so room service could take them away when they came with the sandwiches. I lifted the coffeepot and shook it. Maybe one cup left.

“You want some coffee?” I asked him.

“Naw, you have it.”

Why do people do that, I wondered? Offer someone else the last of something when they really want it themselves? I poured myself the cup, glad that he’d turned it down.

When the sandwiches showed up they looked good—so good that Jerry asked, “Mind if I have one now?”

“Just leave one for Sammy,” I said.

“No problem.”

As the guy left with the tray from breakfast, I thought I should have ordered another pot of coffee.

“Jerry, any soft drinks behind the bar?”

“Some Coke, I think. You don’t want another bourbon?” he asked.

“I didn’t finish the first. Too early.”

“I could mix it with the Coke.”

“Bite your tongue.”

I got a bottle of Coke from the fridge behind the bar and used the opener attached to the underside of the bar. Jerry and I got back in our chairs.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked.

“We wait,” I said, “for Sam to wake up, for the phone to ring, for a note to be delivered … we just wait.”

“And if they don’t make contact today?”

“We’re going back to Vegas tonight,” I said. “Sammy can call us.”

“Call you about what?”

We looked up and saw Sammy walking into the room. He looked a little rested, and fresh from a shower, but he was still dragging.

“A new meeting place,” I said. “If they don’t call or make contact today. You got a show tonight, Sam?”

“No, not tonight,” he said. “We’re goin’ to Dino’s show tonight, right? With Frank?”

“I forgot about that,” I admitted.

“I’ll get dressed,” Sammy said, “and we’ll all go to Vegas.”

“Slow down,” I said. “Have a sandwich. We’ll stick around here
a while longer, give them a chance to call, and then we’ll head to Vegas.”

Sammy sat down on the sofa and accepted the sandwich Jerry retrieved from the fridge. He unwrapped it and took a bite.

“Anybody else want some coffee?” he asked, with his mouth full.

N
OBODY CALLED
.

Nobody sent a note.

Nobody came to the door.

After Sammy called Frank at about 3
P.M
. he told us, “Frank’s gonna meet us at the Sands. We got a front table for Dino’s show.”

“Fine,” I said. “We might as well get back.”

“He got me a room at the Sands,” Sammy said. “I’ll change there. Where’s the driver?”

“Waiting in the lobby, I hope.”

“Call down and have him phone the helicopter pilot,” Sammy said. “I’ll be right with you, and then we can go.”

I picked up the phone. Sammy started to leave the room, then turned and called to Jerry, “Hey, big fella, you wanna sit with us tonight?”

“With you, and Mr. G., and Mr. S.?” Jerry asked. “Sure.”

“Good,” Sammy said. “Joey’ll be there, too. And he might bring Buddy. We’ll make a party of it.”

In a couple of hours Sammy’s attitude seemed to have changed. I chose to look at that as a good thing. Maybe he needed to get out and party a little. Once he was contacted again it would start all over.

Jerry said, “What do we do with the gun?”

I looked at it, still lying on the cloth on the coffee table.

“Nobody’s looking for it,” I said.

“Not yet.”

“When they find the body they’ll start looking for a murder weapon,” I said.

“We can’t let ’em find it,” Jerry said. “It’ll point to Mr. Davis.”

Just for a split second I thought, what if Sammy did it? We’d be covering up for him. But I didn’t really think Sammy Davis Jr. was a killer.

“Mr. G.? Did you hear me?”

“No, Jerry,” I said. “No, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“I said, why don’t we drop it out of the helicopter? Over the desert, or the lake?”

I thought that over.

“Nobody would ever find it,” he added.

“Maybe not,” I said, “but the pilot would be a witness.”

“Good point,” Jerry said.

We both sat there, waiting for Sammy and staring at the gun. Then I remembered and called down to the lobby for the driver.

“There’ll be three of us going to the heliport, Henry.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

“Thank you, Henry.”

When Sammy came out, Jerry and I were still wondering what to do with the gun.

“Why don’t we just leave it here?” he suggested.

“We can’t do that,” I said.

“Why not?” Sammy asked. “Nobody’s looking for it, nobody knows—”

“The blackmailers know,” I said. “If this was an attempt to frame you they could call the cops and give them your name. What if they came here and found the gun?”

“Okay,” Sammy said, “okay, so we just take it with us.”

“I can carry it,” Jerry offered.

“No,” I said, “we have to hide it, or get rid of it.”

“Okay,” Sammy asked, “where?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out.”

We met Henry in the lobby.

“The car is ready, sir.”

“Okay, Henry,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Jerry, Sammy and I got in the backseat, and Henry headed for the heliport.

For a moment I thought about giving the gun to Henry to get rid of, but that would make him a witness—or, at least, an accomplice.

We had wrapped it back up in the hotel and Jerry carried it again now. When we got to Vegas we’d drive out to the desert and get rid of it, I thought, bury it. Bodies had been hidden in the desert for years without being found. Why not a hunk of metal?

“Let’s just go to Vegas,” I’d said in the room, “enjoy Dino’s show, and worry about all of this tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Sammy agreed, “why not? After all, maybe we’ll never hear from them again. Maybe one killed the other and he’s on the run.”

Yeah, maybe, but what about the photo Sammy was afraid of?

What would happen to that?

O
UR TABLE WAS A RIOT
, especially with Joey, Frank, Sammy and Buddy Hackett heckling Dino. At one point Dean pulled the four of them on stage with him and they cracked the entire audience up for a good twenty minutes while Jerry and I watched with everyone else. Then he kicked them off and we all fell quiet and listened to the man do what he did best—sing.

At one point he came out into the audience and approached a table where a young couple was sitting. They looked young enough to be newlywed, the man sandy-haired, the woman pretty and dark-haired.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Dean asked her.

“Shirley,” the girl said, shyly.

“And is this fine young man your husband?”

“Yes.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jerry.”

“Where are you from, Shirley.”

“San Francisco.”

“Do you think your husband would mind if I sang a song to you?”

“I wouldn’t care if he did,” she said, and everyone laughed, including her husband.

“Well, all right, then …” Dean said, and he sang “I’d Cry Like a Baby,” to her. She blushed furiously, but loved every moment of it. When he finished Dean shook hands with the beaming young husband and returned to the stage.

When he was finished with his act we all applauded, nobody louder or longer than Frank.

“Let’s give him some time before we go backstage,” Frank said.

I knew Frank was curious about how things were going, but he didn’t mention it in front of Joey and Buddy. And I knew he wouldn’t talk about it in front of Dino, either. He’d have to have the patience to wait until he got either me or Sammy alone.

We waited for the Copa Room to empty out and had one more round of drinks.

“You guys gotta let me come on stage with you one night,” Buddy said.

“Where were you an hour ago, Buddy?” Frank asked. “You were up there with us.”

“Just remember,” Joey said, wagging his finger at Buddy, “there’s only room for one comic in this act.”

“Hey,” Buddy said, “you start doin’ some TV and there’ll be room for me, right? Who else would you recommend?”

“I ain’t recommending nobody, pal,” Joey said, “ ’cause I ain’t givin’ up this gig.”

Frank looked at me and rolled his eyes. We both looked at Sammy, who seemed to be staring at something only he could see.

“Hey, Sam,” Frank said, “wake up, baby. It’s party time.”

“I’m ready, Frank,” Sammy said, with a big forced grin. He stubbed out a cigarette and lit another one right away.

“Come on,” Frank said, pushing his chair back, “let’s go back and see Dino.”

“I’ll get the check,” I said, intending to have the Sands comp everybody.

“I already took care of it, pally,” Frank said, slapping me on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Backstage was not as wild as it had been when the whole Rat Pack
was entertaining, but it still took us a while to work through the crowd to where Dino was holding court.

“Just in time,” he said, putting one arm around Frank and the other around Sammy. “I was goin’ to change. Are we still on for tonight?”

“We sure are,” Frank said. “It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“Too bad Peter’s not here, too,” Sammy said.

“We don’t need Peter,” Frank said. “We got Eddie G.”

I was flattered and figured that Peter’s connection to the Kennedys was keeping him in Washington these days.

I knew that the real late-night swingers in the group were Frank and Sammy, but this was opening night for Dean, so everyone agreed to go out and celebrate.

We waited for Dean to change while the backstage area cleared out. Then when Sammy, Joey and Buddy left to go out front and wait, Frank grabbed my arm. Jerry drifted out with the other three and I knew he was feeling like a fifth—well, seventh—wheel.

“I know it’s Sammy’s business,” Frank said to me, “but I haven’t gotten a chance to get him alone. How’s everything goin’?”

I hesitated, then decided that Sammy probably wouldn’t mind Frank being clued in on some details.

“Not good, Frank.”

I told Frank things didn’t go well the first time I tried to help Sammy, so we were going to take a second shot at it. I didn’t tell him about the photo, or the dead body. And I didn’t tell him anything about Sammy’s gun—which, by the way, Jerry said he’d taken care of.

After we’d landed in Vegas we dropped Sammy at the Sands so he could change, and then we went to my house so we could do the same. When we left the house I asked Jerry if he still had the gun on him. I was nervous about him getting caught carrying it. When he told me he didn’t I was even more worried about it being found in my house.