You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Kills You (17 page)

“To keep me and Jerry out of jail you need to make a statement that we were there with you last night.”

“Where do I go to make this statement?”

“We’ll bring the investigating detective to you,” I said. “Him and his partner.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

“Frank, I’m sorry I got you involved—”

“Hey, murder’s murder, kid,” he said. “I’ll do what I can to keep you and Jerry out of jail.”

“Well,” I said, feeling bad at that moment, “maybe I overstated the case, but it would go a long way toward keepin’ us from bein’ suspects.”

“It’s okay, kid,” Frank said. “Just bring ‘em up tomorrow.”

“We’ll be there early, I’m sure,” I said. “Frank, they want to take a statement from Marilyn, too. Only I didn’t tell them she’s stayin’ with you. I only told them she’d be there tomorrow.”

“I get it. You want to talk to her now?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He put the phone down and it was picked up moments later by Marilyn.

“Eddie? What’s wrong?”

As gently as I could I told her that there’d been an unfortunate murder, that the police wanted statements from her and Frank to confirm Jerry’s and my alibi.

“The police are coming here?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“Yes, they’ll be comin’ with us, tomorrow.”

Her voice got calmer when she heard I’d be there.

“Okay, Eddie.”

“They just need some things confirmed.”

“Okay, Eddie,” she said again. “I’ll talk to them.”

“It won’t be hard to do,” I said. “I think they’re fans of yours.”

“Really?”

Maybe, I thought.

“Really.”

“You haven’t found your friend yet?” she asked.

“No. We’ll get you back home as soon as we can.”

She lowered her voice then, and I knew Frank was nearby.

“Eddie, what about that … other thing?”

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to Kay Gable yet, Marilyn,” I said, “but I will. I promise.”

“I know you will, Eddie.”

“Let me talk to Frank again.”

“Okay,” she said, and handed the phone to him.

“Everything set?” he asked.

“Frank, try not to make it look like Marilyn is staying there,” I said. “Tell George—”

“Don’t worry, kid,” Frank said, cutting me off, “we’ll treat you all like guests.”

“Okay, good,” I said. “Thanks, Frank. Thanks a lot.”

“Don’t mention it, pally,” he said. “I still owe you, remember?”

“Once we get Danny back it might even out.”

“We’ll see.”

We hung up and I looked at Jerry.

“What now?” he asked.

I stepped out of the phone booth.

“I don’t seem to be gettin’ many good ideas,” I said. “I might even think about going back to Vegas and leavin’ this to Otash, except for one thing.”

“Miss M.”

“Right,” I said. “She’s become dependent on me, which is not a good thing for either of us. I mean, when this is over I’ll be going back home. I’ll just be another man who left her.”

“It ain’t like you guys are romantic or nothin’,” Jerry said.

“No, but that might even make it worse,” I said. “I mean, she’s used to havin’ romances break up.”

“You thinkin’ you’re more like a father to her?” he asked.

“Nooo,” I said with conviction. “It’s like we said before, I’m more like a big brother at this point.”

“She needs to start workin’ again,” Jerry said. “Maybe she’ll be … better then.”

“Yeah,” I said, “maybe.”

I picked up the phone, dropped in a dime, dialed Stanze’s number and waited.

“Might as well get us set up for tomorrow now,” I said. “This way we’ll know what time we have to get up.”

“Good,” Jerry said, “when you’re done with that we can talk about what’s for dinner.”

S
TANZE AND HIS PARTNER
showed up right on time at 9:00
A.M.
We were waiting so we wouldn’t have to let them in. Guess I was the one being a bit of a dick.

“You coming with us?” Stanze asked.

“No,” I said, “you can follow us. We might not be returning the same time you are.”

“You guys had breakfast?” Jerry asked.

“Just had time for coffee,” Bailey said. “Why, you hungry?”

“He’s always hungry,” I said.

“So’s he,” Stanze said.

“Got a favorite place?” I asked. “We’ll follow you there, then you can follow us to Palm Springs.”

“Sounds like a deal to me,” Bailey said. “Me, too,” Jerry said.

I had a feeling my partner and Stanze’s partner were going to get along.

During breakfast the conversation was carried by Jerry and Detective Bailey. They had similar tastes in food, similar attitudes about it, and sort of got into an unofficial contest to see who could eat the most pancakes.

As Bailey pushed himself away from the table Stanze said, “I think you finally met your match, Dave.”

“Oooh …” Bailey groaned.

Smiling, Jerry finished the last of his meal and stood up.

They walked ahead of us as we went to the cars.

“They’re like two big kids,” Stanze said.

“You and your partner should know, Stanze, that Jerry’s not stupid.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know, just in case you’re tryin’ to run some kind of game on him.”

“What kind of game?”

“Buddyin’ up,” I said. “Look, I’m just … warnin’ you.”

I sped up before Stanze could respond, passed Jerry and Bailey and got to the Caddy first.

We led the way to Palm Springs and I had pretty much the same conversation with Jerry along the way.

“Yeah, I kinda figured he was bein’ a little too friendly,” Jerry said.

“Then again, he is near retirement,” I said.

“Don’t make no difference,” Jerry said. “Once a cop—always a cop.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t usually mix good with cops, but this one … he seems okay.”

“So you don’t think he’s runnin’ a game on you?”

Jerry shrugged.

“What’s the difference? He ain’t gonna get nothin’ from me I don’t wanna give ‘im.”

“Plus there’s nothin’ to give him anyway,” I said.

“So let him run his game,” Jerry said. “It was a hoot watching him try to eat all those pancakes.”

“Bet he’s sufferin’ now,” I said, and we both started laughing.

“Hope he pukes in his partner’s lap,” Jerry said while laughing.

I pointed and said, “Don’t miss your turnoff.”

G
EORGE CAME DOWN
to meet us when we pulled into Frank’s place. He must have gotten the construction guys to take the day off, or go to an early lunch. It was quiet as we got out of the cars.

“George Jacobs,” I said, “these are Detectives Stanze and Bailey.”

“How do you do,” George said. “Mr. Sinatra is waiting by the pool. Follow me, please.”

“Don’t shit your pants when you meet him,” Bailey said to Stanze in a stage whisper.

“Shut up, Dave.”

We all followed George up the stairs to the pool. When Frank saw us coming he stood up. He was wearing an expensive-looking short-sleeved shirt, gray slacks and white boat shoes.

“Hey, Eddie,” Frank said. “Jerry. How ya doin’?”

“We’re doin’ good, Frank,” I said. “This is Detective Stanze, and his partner Detective Bailey.”

“The gents who want my statement,” Frank said. He extended his hand. “Welcome.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Sinatra,” Stanze said, almost stammering. “I—I have all your albums.”

“All of ‘em? That’s a lot of vinyl, kid.”

“Mr. Sinatra,” Bailey said respectfully.

“Pull up a lounge chair. Anybody want a drink? Some coffee, maybe?”

“Coffee’d be good,” Bailey said.

“Yes, fine,” Stanze agreed.

“George, bring coffee all around,” Frank said.

“Yes, sir.”

Frank’s valet went to get the coffee and we all grabbed lounge chairs. Everybody sat down but me.

“Frank, where’s Marilyn?”

“She’s inside, Eddie. Waitin’ in the living room. I had George give her some tea when she got here.”

“I’ll go and sit with her,” I said. “I don’t want her gettin’ nervous.”

“Sure,” Frank said. “I’ll talk to the detective out here and then bring them inside.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Stanze said. “Why don’t I go with you, Eddie, and my partner can talk to Mr. Sinatra. If we work it this way we’ll be out of here sooner.”

“I don’t want you scarin’ her,” I said.

And he didn’t want me cooking up a story with her.

“I’ll be real nice,” Stanze said.

“Okay,” I said, “okay, come on.”

I looked at Jerry, who just nodded that he’d stay right where he was.

Marilyn saw us coming into the living room. On the coffee table in front of her was a tray with a china cup and teapot. She almost ran to me but when she saw Stanze she stopped herself.

“Marilyn,” I said, “how’re you doin’?”

“Okay, Eddie,” she said.

“You remember Detective Stanze,” I said.

“Miss Monroe,” Stanze said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Detective.”

She was wearing what I had come to realize she always relaxed in—jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Can we sit down, Miss Monroe?” he asked. “I won’t take long. I just need to ask a few questions.”

“Of course, Detective,” she said. “I want to be as helpful as I can.”

They sat down. I was about to join them when Stanze looked up at me.

“Miss Monroe, do you suppose we could talk without Eddie in the room? Would that be okay?”

“Well …” She looked up at me and I nodded. “All right.”

“We’ll come out by the pool, Eddie, when we’re done,” Stanze said.

“Sure, Detective, sure.”

I left the living room, but instead of going out by the pool I turned and went into the kitchen. George was putting the coffeepot and some cups on a tray.

“You need any help, George?”

“No, sir,” George said, “but thank you.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Gianelli,” George said, picking up the tray. “Mr. S. will only tell them what they need to know.”

“That’s all I want him to do, George,” I said. “There isn’t anythin’ else to tell.”

“Yes, sir,” George said. “Whatever you say. You comin’ out for coffee?”

“Yeah, George,” I said, “I’ll be there in a minute. Mind if I use the phone?”

“Go right ahead.”

He left with the tray and I dialed Fred Otash’s number. I
hadn’t had a chance to talk to him the day before when we got back from the police station.

“Mr. Otash is not in at the moment, Mr. Gianelli,” Leona said.

“Can I leave him a message?” I asked.

I heard her sigh heavily. What did she have against me anyway? “Oh, all right. What’s the message?”

“Tell him we’re out of town but will be back later today,” I told her. “I’ll call him as soon as we get back.”

“You’re out of town,” she said, “and what?”

I repeated the message to her and she repeated it back as she wrote it down. Apparently, Fred Otash had not hired her for her secretarial skills.

“Okay,” she said, “I got it, Mr. Gianelli.”

“Thank you, Leona.”

“My name’s Miss Deeds, Mr. Gianelli,” she said. “Please remember that.”

“I will, Miss Deeds,” I said, “I will.”

B
Y THE TIME I
got out to the pool Frank, Jerry and Bailey were drinking coffee. The detective had apparently put his notebook away.

“Eddie,” Frank called, “your coffee’s going to get cold.”

“Thanks, Frank.”

I walked over and picked up the cup that had been poured for me.

“Am I interrupting?” I asked.

“No,” Bailey said, “I finished up with my questions. We’re talking about what a dick Burt Lancaster was on the set of
From Here to Eternity.”

“I never said that,” Frank pointed out.

“Yeah, but you insinuated it.”

“Jerry?”

“I didn’t get that from what you said, Mr. S.”

“Thank you. Hey, here’s Marilyn.”

I turned and saw Marilyn and Stanze walking toward us; they were both laughing. I could tell by the look on Stanze’s face
that he was in love with her, like every other man who’d ever seen her. She was even hanging on to his arm. The man who I thought might be playing us was now being expertly played by a woman who didn’t even realize she was doing it. I wondered how dangerous Marilyn Monroe would be if she ever acquired some self-confidence.

“Coffee, Marilyn?” Frank asked.

“I had enough tea, Frank, thanks,” she said, “but maybe Detective Stanze would like some?”

“No, thanks,” Stanze said, “I think my partner and I have what we came for. We should stop bothering you folks. You have busy lives.”

“That’s very true,” Frank said. “I have a commander in chief to prepare for.”

“That’s right,” Stanze said. “I read that JFK was coming here. That must be very exciting.”

“It is,” Frank said.

“Come on, Dave,” Stanze said. “Let’s go.”

They shook hands with Frank and Marilyn—Bailey stammering his name as he did so. I walked both detectives to their car.

“Our alibis check out?” I asked.

“For now,” Stanze said. “And Miss Monroe supports your story.”