You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Kills You (16 page)

The phone rang at that point, making me jump. At least I could stop thinking about Gable and Marilyn for a while.

“Mr. Gianelli?” Otash asked.

“Just call me Eddie,” I said. “It’ll be easier.”

“Well, I don’t know how much of this is going to be easy, Eddie.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve got a dead body on our hands.”

“What? Who?”

“That desk clerk,” Otash said. “Max Johnson?”

“He’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“He was strangled in his apartment.”

“That dive we looked at?”

“No, his real apartment—at least, the one where he was sleeping.”

“How did you find him?”

“I’m a detective, remember?”

“I’ll need a little more than that, Mr. Otash.”

“Call me Fred.”

“You can explain the whole thing to me when I see you, Fred. I should move to a pay phone.”

“We’re not going to talk any state secrets here.”

“Okay, what’s next?”

“Well, I’m going to have to call that detective buddy of yours, Stanze.”

“You haven’t called the police yet?”

“No, I called you first, Mr.—Eddie. You’re my client. My first duty is to you.”

“Okay, so call Stanze,” I said. “Will you be telling him that you called me?”

“Of course, and as soon as I tell him I’m working for you, he’s going to want to see you.”

“I’ll be ready,” I said.

“How are things going with Miss Monroe?”

“She’d like to come home.”

“Well, in light of this I’d say she should wait a little while longer.”

“I agree. Have you found out anything else?”

“When I located Mr. Johnson I thought he would lead me to your friend,” Otash said. “It looks like I’ll have to start all over again.”

“From where?”

“That’s the question,” he said. “Look, Stanze will have you in after he talks to me. Might be tonight, might be tomorrow. We’ll talk again after that.”

“Okay.”

“Meanwhile, watch your backs. Somebody out there is not afraid to kill.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Make sure you don’t hold anything back from the police,” he added.

“That’ll be easy,” I said. “I don’t know anything.”

When Jerry came back in he looked like he had something on his mind. I must have looked the same way.

“You go first, Mr. G.”

“Let’s step outside.”

When we were behind the guesthouse I told him about Otash’s call.

“I guess he must be pretty good if he found the guy,” Jerry said. “Too bad he found him dead.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “What’d you find?”

“Some gouges on the back door lock,” Jerry said. “Somebody got in, or tried to get in.”

“None on the front?”

“No.”

“What about this building?”

“No, nothin’ here.”

“Those scratches weren’t there before, Jerry?” I asked.

He looked embarrassed. “I can’t say, Mr. G.,” he replied. “I didn’t look before.”

“That’s okay,” I said.

I hadn’t cleared the table yet. Jerry’s cardboard container had one French fry left in it that he must have somehow missed. He snagged it, then started cleaning the table.

“What are we gonna do now?” he asked.

“I guess we better wait for Detective Stanze to call after he talks to Otash.”

“What are we gonna tell ‘im?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe we’ll just wait for him to ask some questions, see what he wants to know. About the only thing I don’t want to tell him is where Marilyn is.”

We didn’t even talk about that in the guesthouse, just in case.

O
TASH’S GUESSTIMATE WAS PRETTY
good.

We watched TV until late and the phone never rang. First thing in the morning, though, Stanze called.

“Gianelli? I think you and your buddy better come to my office this morning.”

“What’s it about?”

“Don’t jerk my chain,” Stanze said. “Just be here, quick.”

I hung up and looked at Jerry, who had been getting ready to make something for breakfast.

“We’re eatin’ out.”

We went to the West Los Angeles Station first. Stanze had not been the dick—in both senses of the word—that Las Vegas Detective Hargrove had been when we dealt with him, so I had no reason to want to jerk his chain. I wanted to cooperate.

“Here we are,” I said, as an officer showed us in.

“That was quick,” he said grudgingly. “I appreciate it. Have a seat.”

We both sat down. He had an Italian takeout lunch in front of him and was using a plastic fork to eat it with.

“I hope you don’t mind if I keep eating.”

“Go ahead,” I said.

“Looks good,” Jerry said.

“It is,” Stanze said. “Comes from a place around the corner, and they make sure I never find a hair in it.”

“A hair?”

Stanze shivered. “Creeps me out.”

“I don’t blame ya,” Jerry said.

“You can look at dead bodies, but you can’t handle a hair in your food?”

Stanze glared at me and said, “It ain’t the same thing!”

“Okay,” I said, backing off.

He put the lid on his lunch and said, “Just talking about it creeps me out. I’ll eat this later.” He looked at us. “I understand you’ve retained Fred Otash.”

“That’s right,” I said. “We needed somebody more familiar with the city.”

Stanze looked directly at me. “I thought that was me.”

“We wanted a little more help.”

“What, specifically, did you ask Mr. Otash to do?”

“You must have asked him that.”

“Now I’m asking you.”

“I hired him to try and find Danny Bardini. What else am I here for?”

“You didn’t hire him to do anything for Marilyn Monroe?”

“No.”

“But she’s still out of town?”

“Yes.”

“And where were the two of you last night?” he asked.

“We were also out of town,” I said.

“I’m gonna need a little more than that, Eddie,” Stanze said.

“Are you telling me we need an alibi?”

“I’m working on a murder now,” Stanze said. “Yes, you both need alibis.”

Jerry looked at me and remained silent. He’d go along with anything I said.

“We stayed overnight at the home of Frank Sinatra,” I said.

Stanze stared at me. “You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Marilyn Monroe and Frank Sinatra. You travel in fast circles, Eddie.”

“Part of my job.”

“Nice work, if you can get it.”

I remained silent.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” he said. “I’ve got a dead body, and I know you two have had contact with him. You think he had something to do with your friend’s disappearance. So you found him, started to question him, something went wrong and he ended up dead.” He pointed. “Maybe Big Jerry here doesn’t know his own strength.”

“Believe me, Detective,” I said, “if there’s anything Jerry knows it’s his own strength. He’d never kill anyone … by accident.”

“So then he meant to kill him.”

“He didn’t kill him at all,” I said, “and neither did I.”

“Then I’ll need your alibis confirmed by Mr. Sinatra,” Stanze said. “In person, no statements, or phone calls. The only statement I’ll accept is one made in front of me.”

“Mr. Sinatra is a very busy man,” I said.

“I know, he’s preparing for a visit from JFK,” Stanze said. “I read the papers.”

“Then you know he doesn’t need his name connected to this.”

“There’s no reason for his name to be linked to anything unpleasant,” Stanze said. “I just want him to come in and make his statement.”

“If he comes anywhere near here it’ll get in the papers,” I said.

“What do you suggest?”

“That you come to Palm Springs with us to take his statement.”

“Even if I go to Palm Springs,” Stanze said, “I’ll put your two asses in a cell to wait it out.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a detective,” I said, “but you’re not an asshole. You’d only do that to be a dick, because you’ve got no evidence to hold us on.”

“If I go to Palm Springs I’m giving Mr. Sinatra preferential treatment.”

“If he was a politician you’d be giving him preferential treatment,” I said. “If the president was already staying with him you’d give him preferential treatment.”

We were sitting with Stanze at his desk in the center of the squad room, not in his captain’s office. I guess his boss was in that day. Stanze looked around, as if to see if anyone was listening in.

“I’m also gonna need a statement from Miss Monroe,” he said.

“If you bring her in here it’ll be a circus,” I said. “She doesn’t need that.”

“Mr. Gianelli, I have a job to do. I can’t be worried who gets involved in a media circus and who doesn’t.”

“Bullshit,” I said, “it’s done in Hollywood all the time.”

“We’re not quite Hollywood here.”

“You’re close enough.”

He tapped his index finger on his desk while he did some thinking.

“I tell you what,” he said. “I’ll go to Palm Springs on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I get to interview both Frank Sinatra and Marilyn Monroe. Is she staying there with him?”

“I’ll tell
you
what,” I said. “I’ll make sure Marilyn is in Palm Springs at Frank’s house so you can take a statement from them both … if they agree.”

“That doesn’t tell me whether she’s staying with him or not.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

He studied me for a long moment.

“Okay,” he said, “it’s a deal.”

“And I want
you
to do it,” I said, “don’t send those assholes from Palm Springs.”

“No,” he said, “I’ll be doing this myself, with my partner. Set it up, and do it soon so you can keep your ass, and his, out of a cell.”

“I’ll set it up for tomorrow.”

“Good.”

I stood up.

“Can we go?”

“No, no,” he said, waving at me, “we’re not done yet. Sit back down.”

I
SAT BACK DOWN
. Jerry had never moved.

“Fred Otash,” Stanze said. “I want you to call him off.”

“Why?”

“He’s an ambulance chaser.”

“He didn’t chase us,” I said. “We went to him.”

“I’m still asking why.”

“I understood there was no major case here that he’d be interfering with,” I said. “I mean, all you were doing was looking for a missing person, right?”

“Not officially,” he said. “I think I told you only a relative could report him missing. With all due respect to you claiming to be his … second cousin.”

“Then why were you even looking?”

Stanze scanned the room.

“To be honest? Because the case involved Marilyn Monroe.”

I pointed to him. “You don’t act impressed,” I said, “but you are. You’re impressed with Marilyn Monroe.”

“I’m not impressed,” Stanze said, looking around again, “but
like every other red-blooded male in America, she makes me horny as hell.”

“Are you married?” I asked.

“No.”

“So when you found out I was staying with her you were hoping to meet Marilyn?”

“Okay,” Stanze said, looking embarrassed, “I admit that was the truth … before this became a murder case. But I do need a statement from her, and I’m willing to go to Palm Springs to get it, rather than make her come back here.”

“Just to be nice.”

“Don’t let him kid you,” Detective Bailey said, coming up behind his partner. He put both hands on Stanze’s shoulders. “All he’s been talkin’ about since he met you is his meeting with Marilyn Monroe. You better believe he wants another helping.”

“Dave—”

“Oops, sorry,” Bailey said. “I’ve cracked the professional veneer.”

I knew then who Stanze kept looking around for.

“Dave, I can fill you in later on what’s going on,” Stanze said.

“Sure, partner,” Bailey said. “I can take a hint.” He looked at us. “Gents.”

“Guess I should’ve warned you he was comin’ up behind you,” I said. “Sorry.”

“He’s six months from retirement,” Stanze said. “Every month he gets … worse.”

“So he’d be going to Palm Springs with you?”

“Yes, but I’ll do my best to keep his mouth shut.”

I looked at Jerry, who still hadn’t said a word.

“Okay,” Stanze said, “so you’re not going to terminate Fred Otash.”

“He’s the one who found that clerk,” I said. “If he’d been
alive, maybe he would’ve found Danny, so no, I’m not gonna fire him.”

“Then he better stay out of my way as far as the murder is concerned.”

“He’s gonna keep lookin’ for Danny,” I said.

Stanze looked at Jerry.

“You got anything to say?”

“Mr. G.’s doin’ okay,” Jerry said.

“Yeah,” Stanze said. “Now we’re done. Set up those statements for tomorrow.”

I stood up. Jerry hesitated, and when Stanze didn’t say anything else, he got up.

“I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Jerry and I left the station.

In the car I said, “What do you think?”

“Dog and pony show,” Jerry said.

“Too rehearsed, right?”

Jerry nodded.

“The partner’s close to retirement, so he’s supposed to be the comic relief.”

“Stanze is just too damn friendly,” Jerry said, “and the comment about Miss M. makin’ him horny?”

“Just to make us think he’s one of us boys.”

“Right.”

“So then why the trip to Palm Springs?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Jerry said, “he’s really a fan of Mr. S.’s.”

“I guess that’s possible,” I said. “Damn, I hate to ask this of Frank.”

“He’ll do it,” Jerry said.

“Oh, I know he’ll do it,” I said, “I just hate to ask.”

W
E STOPPED AT A
pay phone. I laid my change out, inserted it and dialed Frank’s number.

“Can Marilyn hear you?” I asked, when George put him on.

“No, she’s outside. What’s goin’ on?”

“We’re dealin’ with a murder now.”

“Whose?”

“The desk clerk in the motel where Danny was stayin’,” I said, “only they claim he was never there.”

“Maybe he wasn’t.”

“He’s been wiped from their registration records, but he was there.”

“What do you need from me?”