You Make Me Feel So Dead

by Robert Randisi

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean nothin’. I’ll take lemonade.’

  ‘Sit at the table. I’ll bring it.’

  She went into the kitchen. When she reappeared she was holding two icy glasses of lemonade, and wearing an almost see-through thing that covered her to the waist. Sort of.

  ‘Here,’ she said. She handed him a glass, sat across the table from him. ‘I knew Billy Reynolds. He’d been renting that house for about two months.’

  ‘Knew him how well?’

  ‘Not that well, cowboy,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said. ‘I just meant—’

  ‘OK, never mind. I’ll stop takin’ offense if you stop apologizing.’

  ‘Deal.’

  ‘I’m gonna tell you what I know,’ she said, ‘things I didn’t tell the cops. You wanna know why?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘You’ve got a nice face,’ she said. ‘That detective, Hargrove, he’s kind of a prick.’

  ‘I know him,’ Jerry said, ‘and you’re right. He is a prick.’

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’m still a good judge of men, then. I’m here divorcing one.’

  ‘So you don’t own this house?’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m renting it, just like Billy was.’

  ‘From the same person?’ he asked.

  ‘From the same realtor.’

  ‘Got a name?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll give you a name and address before you leave.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He sipped the lemonade. It was fresh made.

  ‘I’ve been here about six weeks,’ she said. ‘Bill was already here. We had a few drinks and he told me he was working on a big deal. I figured he was talking big, trying to get into my pants. He didn’t, by the way.’

  ‘I didn’t think so.’

  She smiled.

  ‘You see anybody come to the house?’

  ‘It was a girl. Pretty young thing, dark hair in a ponytail. She went in, came out a few minutes later cryin’.’

  ‘Anybody else?’

  ‘A man,’ she said. ‘Tall – not as tall as you – handsome, in his forties.’

  ‘Did he go in?’

  ‘He did, came out a few minutes later,’ she said, ‘like the girl. Only he wasn’t cryin’. He was just boilin’ mad.’

  ‘Did this happen on the same day?’

  ‘Yup,’ she said. ‘The day of the murder.’

  ‘What about the past six weeks,’ Jerry asked, ‘before that day. See anybody?’

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘it’s not like I just sit around here all day. I do go to the casinos.’

  ‘I figured.’

  ‘He really didn’t have that many visitors until just the other day,’ she said.

  ‘The man who came and left mad?’ Jerry asked, ‘did you see his car? Get his license plate number?’

  ‘Not me,’ she said. ‘That would be the nosy neighbor across the street. She’s the one who gave that information to the cops.’

  ‘Which house?’

  ‘The horrible yellow, straight across from Billy’s. She’s the nosiest bitch. I can’t walk out of the house without her curtain suddenly bein’ pushed aside.’

  ‘She got a name?’

  ‘Nosy, as far as I know,’ she said. ‘I don’t get to know the neighbors – well, except Billy, a little, but we were both renting.’

  Jerry finished his lemonade, then put the glass down and

  stood up.

  ‘Leavin’ so soon?’ she asked.

  ‘I got work to do,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to talk to the nosy neighbor. Don’t worry. I won’t mention you.’

  ‘I don’t care if you do,’ she said. ‘I’ll walk you out.’

  She wrote the name of the realtor on a slip of paper for Jerry, then walked him to the front door. She opened it and stepped out onto the porch with him. She folded her arms over her generous breasts.

  ‘Thanks for talkin’ to me, Jerry. I do get lonely.’

  Either Jerry missed a chance, or she was telling the truth and wasn’t coming on to him, at all. Maybe the woman really did just want somebody to talk to.

  ‘Thanks, Amanda,’ he said. ‘For the information.’

  ‘Billy wasn’t a bad guy,’ she said, ‘at least, to me. I don’t know what his big deal was, but even if it was crooked, I don’t think he deserved to die.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Jerry said. ‘Yellow house, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Amanda said, ‘and don’t worry, she knows you’re comin’. She’s watchin’ us right now.’

  FORTY-THREE

  Jerry went across the street to the one-story yellow A-frame that looked like one of the oldest houses on the block. He stepped to the door and rang the bell; the curtain in the window rustled.

  There was a small window in the door and he saw a woman’s wrinkled face appear in it.

  ‘Whataya want?’

  ‘Just to talk, ma’am,’ Jerry said. ‘I’m investigatin’ the murder that happened across the street.’

  The woman unlocked the door in haste and opened it. She was short, dressed in a housecoat, looked about sixty-five, with mousy grey hair and a mug full of wrinkles.

  ‘Don’t believe nothin’ she tells you!’ she snapped.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That hoochie-coochie girl over there,’ she said. ‘She didn’t see nothin’ I did.’

  ‘What did you see, ma’am?’

  ‘I saw the killer and his car.’

  ‘What’d he look like?’

  ‘Dark hair, kinda handsome. Tall, but not as tall as you.’

  ‘What kind of car.’

  ‘Don’t know kinds,’ she said. ‘It was dark. But I gave the police the license number.’

  ‘Do you still have it?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure do, right here.’ She reached over and grabbed a pad of paper from a small table.

  ‘Can I keep this?’ he asked.

  ‘The other cops already got it,’ she said. ‘That nice detective actually helped me decide if one of the letters was a G or a C.’

  ‘He did, huh?’

  ‘And one of the numbers was either a four, or maybe an A.’

  Jerry tore a blank page from her pad, handed it back, and scribbled some notes.

  ‘Thanks, ma’am.’

  ‘Hey, detective,’ she said, as he went back down the stairs, ‘you never showed me your badge.’

  ‘Ain’t got one.’

  ‘All cops got badges.’

  He turned his head and tossed his last comment over his shoulder.

  ‘I never said I was a cop!’

  Jerry had almost reached the Caddy when he heard his name. He turned and saw Amanda running toward him. She was trying to hold that filmy wrap together, but still managed to jiggle quite a bit as she ran up to him.

  ‘I just remembered something,’ she said, slightly out of breath.

  ‘What?’

  ‘A few weeks ago I was out in the yard when I heard some shouting from Billy’s house. I walked over to the hedge, a spot where I can see through.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He was arguing with a man in his living room.’

  ‘How good a look did you get at the man?’

  ‘Not real good,’ she said.

  ‘Was it the same man?’

  ‘I didn’t see him real well, but I don’t think so. I mean, he had dark hair, and when I looked out front there was a dark car. But I don’t think it was the same.’

  ‘Did you see the license plate of the car?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just don’t notice things like that.’

  ‘OK, Amanda,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re a nice man, Jerry,’ she said to him. ‘Come back and see me some time.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, ‘sure I will.’

  FORTY-FOUR

  While Jerry was dallying with the ladies, Elvis and I went to the bank.

  We had to go into a private room where
Elvis could remove his hat and glasses, and also produce his ID. Then he had to make a call to the Colonel and tell him what he’d agreed to do. As I expected, the Colonel asked to speak to me.

  ‘Mr Gianelli, this isn’t what I expected when I asked you to look out for Elvis.’

  ‘It’s not what I expected either, Colonel, but circumstances have placed us here.’

  ‘Does Elvis know this friend of yours?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I admitted, ‘I suspect that he’s doing this as a favor to me.’

  ‘This is an expensive favor.’

  ‘No argument from me.’

  He’d probably think it was even more expensive if he knew that Elvis was out investigating with me. We’d kept that part from him.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘put the boy back on.’

  The upshot was we walked out of the bank with a check certified for two hundred thousand dollars.

  ‘Pastrami?’ Kaminsky asked. ‘Best in town.’

  ‘No,’ I said, thinking of Jerry again. Now I’d been to a Jewish deli twice without him.

  ‘No,’ Elvis said, ‘thank you, kindly.’

  If Kaminsky was impressed by Elvis’ presence he didn’t show it. Maybe rock ’n roll wasn’t his kind of music. But he was impressed when we handed the check over to him.

  ‘I’ll get this into my account today,’ he said. ‘I have a bondsman waiting.’

  We could have made the check out to the bondsman, but Kaminsky didn’t have his name ready when we talked.

  Elvis and I did both agree to a can of Dr Brown’s soda, cream for me, orange for him. We both sipped.

  ‘So, how’s the investigation going?’ Kaminsky asked, biting into his pastrami-on-rye. Mustard popped out the back and landed on the table.

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘we’ve got some info on Danny’s live case, and Jerry’s collecting some facts about Billy Reynolds and why he may have been in town. We’re also checking on Reynolds’ movements in LA to see who he might’ve pissed off.’

  ‘Good, good,’ Kaminsky said. ‘Just keep workin’ and keep me informed. Kaminsky is workin’ on a defense strategy.’

  ‘I thought the strategy was that Danny didn’t do it?’ I commented.

  ‘The ballistics match is going to be hard to circumvent,’ Kaminsky said. ‘If we could debunk that match we’d have a viable defense.’

  ‘Well then,’ I said, ‘that’s where we’ll put the bulk of our efforts.’

  ‘Fine, fine.’

  We stood up to leave.

  ‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr Presley,’ Kaminsky said.

  Elvis put his sunglasses back on – he’d left the hat on his head – and said, ‘The name’s Buzz.’

  Outside, as we got into the car, Elvis asked me, ‘Where did you come up with Buzz?’

  ‘It just came to me on the spur of the moment,’ I said. ‘We can change it if you like.’

  ‘Na, na, na,’ Elvis said, ‘I like it. Stroke of genius. I’m gonna use it while we’re tourin’. You know, when I wanna go out without anybody knowin’ who I really am.’

  We got in and slammed the doors.

  ‘Where to?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ve gotta meet Jerry and hope he’s turned up something.’

  As we drove he asked, ‘What did the Colonel say?’

  ‘Just something about you doing me an expensive favor,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid he might be thinking that I’m taking advantage of you.’

  ‘I been taken advantage of before,’ Elvis said. ‘I know what it feels like and trust me, this ain’t it.’

  ‘Thanks, Elvis.’

  ‘Hey, we’re partners, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  And as a result of the huge favor, we were going to stay that way till the end.

  Who was taking advantage of who here?

  FORTY-FIVE

  Jerry, Elvis and I sat in a small diner near my house that I sometimes ate breakfast in. I wanted to keep ‘Buzz’ away from the strip.

  When Jerry walked in he didn’t blink at Elvis’ appearance.

  ‘We eatin’?’ he asked.

  ‘Order whatever you want.’

  Elvis wanted a banana-and-peanut butter sandwich, which I talked him out of. It was too unusual and would attract attention. I suggested burger platters for all of us, and that’s what we went with.

  ‘OK, Jerry what did you get?’ I asked.

  That was when he told us his story about Amanda and the nosy lady.

  ‘Let me see the license plate number,’ I said.

  He took out the notes he’d made and passed them over. The waitress appeared with our plates and we leaned back to allow her to set them down. She took a second look at us but didn’t say anything. When she was gone I put the paper on the table to examine. Elvis leaned over as he plucked a French fry from his plate.

  ‘Look at this,’ I said. ‘With the 4 and the G, it’s Danny’s plate number. But put in the A or the C and it belongs to somebody else.’

  ‘But who?’ Elvis asked.

  ‘We’re going to find out,’ I said, folding the paper and tucking it into my pocket. ‘It sounds to me like Hargrove steered this lady toward Danny’s plate number.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ Jerry said, around a huge bite of hamburger.

  ‘We’ll find somebody to run these other plates and see who they match.’

  ‘If we find out it was somebody else’s car, won’t that clear him?’ Elvis asked.

  ‘Afraid not,’ I said. ‘There’s still the gun.’

  ‘What about the gun?’ Elvis asked.

  ‘The cops say the bullet that killed Reynolds came from Danny’s gun.’

  ‘And he says it didn’t?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And you believe him?’

  ‘Completely.’

  ‘Then we need to find the gun that did kill him.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said.

  ‘Or who used Danny’s gun,’ Jerry said.

  We both looked at him. Jerry always manages to fool people – even me – about how smart he was.

  ‘Danny doesn’t always carry his gun,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to find out if he had it on him that day.’

  ‘Does he have another one?’ Jerry asked. ‘I mean, I got more than one gun, even though I use a forty-five most of the time.’

  ‘Yeah, he does,’ I said. ‘I don’t know how many, or what kind. But Penny probably does.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Jerry said. ‘A man usually keeps his guns to himself.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Elvis agreed.

  ‘You got guns?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘I got lots of guns,’ Elvis said. He took off his sunglasses. ‘You come to Graceland sometime and I’ll show you around.’

  ‘That would be great.’

  The waitress came over, edging closer rather than just walking up, and peering at Elvis.

  ‘I, uh, hey,’ she said, ‘are you … are you him? Are you … Elvis Presley?’

  He put his glasses back on and said, ‘You know, I get that a lot.’ He smiled at her. ‘My name’s Buzz.’

  As we left the diner Jerry said, ‘Buzz?’

  ‘Just came up with it,’ I said.

  ‘I like it,’ Elvis said. ‘It’s nice and simple. And you know what? So’s Buzz. His whole life is simple.’

  ‘You’d rather be Buzz?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘Sometimes,’ Elvis said. ‘Yeah, sometimes I would.’

  Elvis got in the car, closed the door.

  ‘Whataya want me to do now, Mr G.?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘Is it OK if you go and talk to the realtor?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, yeah,’ he said, ‘why you gotta ask me that?’

  ‘I don’t want you to think I’m sendin’ you on errands.’

  ‘Hey, we’re partners, right?’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to the realtor.’

  ‘You did good with those women,’ I said.

  ‘The realtor’s a guy,’ he said. ‘I do be
tter with guys. They’re afraid of me.’

  ‘Women aren’t?’

  ‘Not unless I make ’em,’ he said. ‘Women know I ain’t gonna hit ’em or nothin’ – not unless I have to.’

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear about that part of his business.

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘don’t hit anybody unless you absolutely have to.’

  ‘OK, Mr G.’

  He walked to the Caddy and got in. I went around and got behind the wheel of my borrowed car.

  ‘I made a mistake in there,’ Elvis said.

  ‘What mistake?’

  ‘Took off my shades, let my guard down,’ he explained. ‘That waitress recognized me.’

  ‘You convinced her you were Buzz,’ I said. ‘No harm done.’

  ‘You got a friend dependin’ on you,’ Elvis said. ‘I shouldn’t be messin’ with that, except …’

  ‘Except what?’

  He turned his head, looked at me from behind those glasses and beneath that hat.

  ‘Well, today I kinda felt like his life depended on me, too,’ he said. ‘I ain’t never felt nothin’ like that before. What I do ain’t so danged important. I kinda liked it.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘keep on liking it. I kinda like havin’ you around, so I’m not about to cut you loose now.’

  He studied me for a minute, then nodded and said, ‘Well, all right.’

  FORTY-SIX

  ‘I have to read this file,’ I said, as we drove.

  ‘Let’s go to your house,’ Elvis said. ‘I wanna see it.’

  ‘It’s no Graceland, my friend.’

  ‘Remember, I told you about my house in Tupelo,’ he said. ‘I’m sure yours is very nice.’

  I shrugged, turned the car toward my street.

  We pulled up in front and Elvis took a good look.

  ‘I would have been very happy to live in a house like this,’ he said. ‘I bought Graceland so I could take my mama and father in with me. She died before she could really enjoy it.’

  ‘What did she think of it?’ I asked, as we got out of the car.

  ‘She was overwhelmed,’ Elvis said. ‘I think she probably would have preferred a house like this one.’

  I unlocked the front door and we went in. Frank, Dino and Sammy had all been to my house at one time. Now Elvis Presley.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, looking around my small but – thankfully – clean living room, ‘she would have loved this. Is that the kitchen?’