The kid had apparently been killed in the room, and Ava left to take the rap. With his blood on her, the cops figured she’d been set up. But she had come to, panicked and ran. If she’d stayed she might have been cleared. Turns out the detective in Chicago didn’t buy the kid’s death as anything but a hit. They were looking for a woman who’d been seen with him, but Ava had done a good job of keeping her face hidden. Or the bell boy had just been too young to know who she was. And whoever the killers were, they probably hadn’t recognized her, either, because at the end of a forty-hour bender she wouldn’t have looked like Ava Gardner. Somehow, Napolitano knew about her, though, and blamed her for the death of his son. So he kept sending his men after her, until he actually came himself.
But in the end both the law and Napolitano were convinced of Ava’s innocence. The Chicago cops had even accepted a statement taken from Ava by the Las Vegas police. There wasn’t much, because she still had holes in her memory. They might come back some day, but she probably hoped not.
I still didn’t know why the manager of the Beverly Hills Hotel had been killed. Obviously, he’d called somebody about Ava being there. The beating Larry the cab driver had taken had been meant to scare me off. Why kill the manager, but leave me alive? Not all the questions ever get answered.
I was in my pit two days later when I saw Ava walking across the floor towards me. I went to greet her.
‘Eddie,’ she said. She embraced me warmly, then kissed me on the mouth. My lips and toes tingled. Dealers and gamblers were staring. Let ’em.
‘I’m leaving and wanted to say goodbye. And thank you. The police said by keeping me ahead of Napolitano’s men you managed to keep me alive.’
‘Me and Jerry.’
‘Where is Jerry?’ she asked.
‘Took a plane back home yesterday,’ I said. ‘Had to get back to his life.’
‘Life as a leg breaker?’
‘That’s what he’s good at.’
‘I know better,’ she said. ‘So do you.’
‘You may be right. I thought you and Frank—’
‘Two days, Eddie,’ she said. ‘We’ve been together for two days. That’s usually more than enough for us. We had a huge fight this morning, and now I’m off.’
‘To where?’
‘Back to Spain.’
‘To make more movies?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Right now that doesn’t seem so important’
‘What does?’
‘Finding the fountain of youth, I guess.’
‘Ava—’
‘Don’t say it.’ She covered my mouth with her hand. ‘I’m forty, Eddie, and it’s only going to get worse. I’ll have to find a way to live with that.’
‘How are your memories?’
‘I think some of it’s coming back,’ she said. ‘In fact, I’m afraid it is. I see a face, in bed with me . . . and blood . . .’ She shook her head, as if to dispel the memories.
She gave me a powerful hug.
‘You come and see me in Spain,’ she said. ‘We’d have a helluva time together.’
‘For how long?’
‘Who knows?’ she asked. ‘Maybe two days?’
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