EIGHTEEN
As I got out of the elevator on Frank’s floor I saw him come out of his suite and turn my way.
‘Frank—’
‘Eddie, baby,’ he said, spreading his arms expansively. The famous smile lit up his face. ‘Come on, we gotta go.’
‘Go? Where?’
‘I was just comin’ to find you,’ he said. ‘We’re goin’ to the Sahara.’
‘Frank, if you wanna eat—’
‘I do, but not here,’ he said, hustling me down the hall. ‘You got your Caddy?’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Never mind,’ he said, as the elevator doors closed. ‘It’s stupid to drive your car to the Sahara. We could walk there.’
‘Yeah, but Frank—’
‘I know, I’ll be recognized. But you can get us a limo, right?’
‘Well, yeah, right, but—’
‘Then let’s do it, pally!’ he said. ‘We can talk on the way.’
In the lobby I grabbed a valet named Tommy and told him I needed a limo fast.
‘Sure, Eddie,’ he said. ‘Comin’ up.’
‘Are we running from somebody, Frank?’ I asked.
‘No, no,’ he said, ‘nothing like that. Did Eddie get in? Hey, that’s right, he’s Eddie and so are you. And Eddie G.—’
‘He and I went through that already,’ I said. ‘Yeah, he’s here and we got acquainted over lunch.’
‘Good, good,’ he said. ‘What’s the plan?’
‘Dinner tonight, the three of us,’ I said. ‘Somewhere on the strip.’
‘OK, good,’ Frank said. ‘I’ll let you set it up.’
‘Only not the Sahara, if we’re going there now.’
‘Right, right, not the Sahara. Man, I need a drink.’
‘What’s going on, Frank?’
‘Nothin’, nothin’,’ he said. ‘Take it easy. All is well.’
I knew Frank had his manic moments – probably more so since last year, when Frank Jr had been kidnapped and JFK killed – but since I wasn’t a doctor I didn’t know if this was an example of a high, or if it was actually a low.
‘Car’s out front, Eddie,’ the valet said.
‘Thanks, Tommy.’
‘Let’s go, kid,’ Frank said.
He hurried across the lobby with me running after him …
When we got to the Sahara we were let off in the back, in front of the restaurant. There was a well-cared for lawn there ringed by over 200 motel rooms.
We went in and were immediately shown to Frank’s table, which was always held for him.
Once we were seated, Frank ordered a martini, and I had a beer. After he sipped the drink he seemed to settle down a bit.
‘What’s goin’ on, Frank?’ I asked again.
‘Nothin’, Eddie,’ he said. ‘I’ve been on edge a little lately, that’s all.’
‘You want something to eat?’
‘Maybe an appetizer,’ he said, ‘nothing much. We’re gonna have dinner with Eddie.’ He waved to the waiter and ordered an antipasto.
Then he sat back and took a deep breath before lighting a cigarette and taking another sip of his martini. Suddenly, he seemed calm.
‘So what’s goin’ on with you?’
I told Frank about my lunch with Robinson.
‘I like him,’ I ended with. ‘He seems like a cool old guy.’
‘He’s a legend in this business, Eddie,’ Frank said. ‘I’m proud that I got to do two movies with him, especially Hole in the Head. That was some experience.’
Our antipasto came and we began to pick at it, after ordering two more drinks.
‘You gonna get in trouble for bein’ out of your pit?’ Frank asked.
‘Jack’s thinkin’ about creating a new job for me,’ I said. ‘Casino host or somethin’ like that. Leave me free to do stuff for people.’
‘What do you think of that?’
‘I like bein’ in the pit,’ I said. ‘We have to talk about it, after …’
‘After what?’ Frank asked. ‘Somethin’ else goin’ on? Come on, kid, spill. Tell your Uncle Frank everything.’
So I did …
By the time I was done, so was the antipasto. Frank had a third martini, but I nursed my second beer along.
‘So, the cops are sayin’ she killed herself, but you and Jack don’t believe it.’
‘Jack doesn’t want to,’ I said. ‘I just don’t see how she could’ve.’
‘Because of the sink and the key.’
‘Right.’
‘Sounds like you know what you’re doin’, Eddie,’ Frank said. ‘You gonna be able to work on that while you’re dealin’ with Eddie? Or should we get somebody else to show him the ropes?’
‘No, no,’ I said, ‘I wanna do that, Frank. I’ve already got Danny looking around at Helen’s apartment, asking some questions of her neighbors.’
‘And what about bringin’ Jerry in?’
I smiled and said, ‘The big guy’s on his way. He’s gettin’ the first available flight.’
‘I’ll foot the bills, Eddie G.’
‘You don’t have to—’
‘Listen,’ he said, ‘you’re doin’ a lot, for me, for Eddie, and for Jack. It’s the least I can do.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I won’t argue with you.’
He checked his watch, then downed the last of his martini.
‘I gotta get back and sleep off these martinis,’ he said. ‘You set up dinner tonight with Eddie, anywhere you want, and let me know.’
‘OK.’
‘How’d you leave it with him?’
‘That we’d pick him up from his suite.’
‘What floor’s he on?’
‘Two below you.’
‘OK.’ We stood up. ‘You go out and get the limo and I’ll settle up.’
There wasn’t much to getting the limo, but I got the feeling Frank didn’t want me to see him settle up. I went outside, found the driver leaning against the car.
‘Where to, Eddie?’
I looked at him. More and more lately it seemed that people knew me, even when I didn’t know them. Or maybe I just didn’t remember.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Lou.’
‘We’re headin’ back to the Sands, Lou, as soon as Frank comes out.’
‘Right. Should I open the door for him?’
‘Naw, just get behind the wheel. I’ll get the door.
‘Right, boss.’
As Lou slid behind the wheel, Frank came out and I opened the door for him. He slid into the back, I got in next to him and slammed the door.
‘Home, Lou.’
NINETEEN
On the way back to the Sands, Frank got quiet. Not depressed again, just quiet. When we got out of the car in front of the hotel he said, ‘I’m gonna go see Jack. Pick me up at my suite for dinner, and then we’ll get Eddie. OK, pally?’
‘OK.’
Inside we split up. He went to see Jack, I went to my car. Driving to my house I tried to compartmentalize my thoughts, my tasks. I had to take care of Edward G. Robinson and help him with his research for The Cincinnati Kid; and I had to find out if Helen had killed herself or not. If not, did Jack also expect me to find her killer? And then, of course, there was Howard Hughes.
When I got home I showered and was picking out a suit for dinner when the phone rang.
‘Eddie?’
‘Yeah, Danny? What’s up?’
‘I found something,’ Danny said. ‘We need to talk.’
‘When?’
‘Now.’
‘I’m getting dressed to go eat with Frank and Edward G. Robinson.’
‘Do you know how incredibly pretentious that sounds?’ he asked.
‘Fuck you, come on over.’
‘Got beer?’
‘Some,’ I said. ‘Bring more.’
I had finished dressing by the time he arrived. He carried a large paper bag, stowed two six packs of Ballantine in the fridge, pulled out two P
iels.
‘OK,’ I said, sitting on the sofa holding a bottle of beer in my hand, ‘what’ve you got?’
He sat down in the armchair across from me …
Danny took me back to the day before, after we hung up. Actually, it was the next morning when he went into his office – the day after Helen’s death.
He walked in and stopped at the desk in the outer office, where Penny sat. Penny was his girl Friday, but she’d always wanted to be more. For one thing, she wanted to be a PI. For another, she wanted to be his girlfriend. Well, recently they had taken steps to establish her as the latter, but she was still pushing for the former.
‘I have to go out, doll.’
‘Where?’
‘On a case.’
‘We got a client? When did that happen?’
‘Just now, on the phone.’
‘Danny,’ she said, ‘you’ve got to tell me these things, so I can start a file.’
‘Well, don’t start one yet,’ he said. ‘I’m doin’ this as a favor for Eddie, but if he gets Entratter to pay us, then you can start a file.’
‘OK,’ she said, ‘what’s the favor?’
He told her about the woman found hanging in a bathroom at the Sands.
‘That poor girl,’ she said. ‘What must have been happening in her life to make her do that?’
‘Well, Eddie doesn’t think she offed herself,’ Danny said. ‘So she must’ve had help.’
‘What does he want you to do?’
‘Ask questions.’
‘You think Eddie knows enough to make that assumption?’ she asked.
‘Eddie’s sharp,’ Danny said. ‘If he saw something that makes him think she didn’t kill herself, that’s good enough for me.’
‘Then me, too.’
‘I’m going to check out her place,’ he said, ‘ask some questions, talk to her neighbors.’
‘What should I do?’
‘What you always do, doll,’ he said on the way out the door. ‘Man the phones.’
‘Woman!’ she shouted after him. ‘In case you ain’t noticed, I’m a female. Get it?’
Oh, he got it.
Danny was driving a ’63 Chevy Sting Ray at the time. He drove it to Helen Simms’ address, a high-rise apartment building off the strip, in Green Valley.
He parked in the parking lot behind, entered through a back door, made his way to the lobby, where the occupants’ names appeared on a board on the wall. There was no door man, no security. Expensive, yes, but not top of the line. As far as Danny knew, Helen was a secretary. He didn’t know how much Entratter paid her, but it must have been good money.
He checked the board. Helen Simms lived on the eighth floor, apartment 803. On the first floor there was an apartment for the manager. That’s where Danny went.
He knocked and a man in a T-shirt opened the door.
‘Lookin’ for an apartment?’ he asked. ‘We’re all full.’
‘Not so much,’ Danny said. ‘Helen Simms, she died yesterday.’
‘No foolin’?’
‘I need to get inside her apartment.’
‘You got a badge?’
Danny took out a twenty.
‘If I show you my badge, I have to put this away,’ he said.
The man considered, then took the twenty. ‘Wait here.’ He went inside, returned with a key. ‘Make sure you bring it back.’
‘No problem.’
Danny took the elevator to the eighth floor, fitted the key into the door of 803 and entered. He hadn’t really impersonated a cop. Not really.
The apartment was small, a living room, bedroom, and kitchenette. He spent most of his time in her bedroom, and bathroom. The usual in her medicine cabinet: aspirin, Midol, cough syrup, eye drops, a couple of prescription bottles that he put in his pocket. He’d find out what they were for later.
There was a small writing desk in one corner of the bedroom. He went to it, checked all the drawers, the blotter on top. Then he went to her dressing mirror. People often left messages clipped to their mirror. No such luck. So he checked her refrigerator. The inside was almost empty, except for the remnants of a take-home salad, and a half bottle of white wine.
He hoped he’d find out more from the neighbors than he had from her apartment.
TWENTY
He tried several of the other apartments on the floor, but the tenants were either at work or not answering. He’d have to try in the afternoon, when people came home from work.
However, he did get an answer when he knocked on the door of 805, which was directly across from Helen.
The door opened a couple of inches and a woman’s eye looked out. There were enough wrinkles around it to tell him she was elderly.
‘Yes? What do you want?’ a tremulous voice asked.
‘Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’d like to ask you some questions about your neighbor across the hall? Miss Simms?’
‘Helen? She’s a lovely girl. Why are you asking? Why should I talk to you?’
‘Ma’am, I’m sorry to tell you … Helen is dead.’
‘What? That can’t be, young man. I saw her yesterday morning, when she left for work.’
‘And she didn’t come home, did she?’ he asked.
‘Well, no …’
‘That’s because she’s dead, ma’am.’
‘Oh dear … are you the police?’
He decided not to lie.
‘No, ma’am, but I’m assisting the police in their inquiries. Could I come in just for a few minutes and ask some questions?’
‘I-I suppose so,’ she said. She closed the door. He heard the chain lock slip off and then it reopened to reveal a tiny, old woman wearing a housecoat. ‘Come in, young man.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
He stepped inside and she closed the door. He immediately noticed the musty smell in the place. This was a woman who rarely opened her windows.
‘Can I get you some tea or lemonade?’ she asked.
‘No, ma’am,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to put you out. I just need to ask a few questions.’
‘Well, please sit down, then.’
He looked around. The sofa and chairs were expensive, and they were covered with plastic. She sat down on the sofa, so he chose one of the chairs. The plastic creaked as he sat.
‘How did she die?’ the woman asked.
‘That’s what we’re looking into,’ he said. ‘Someone may have killed her, or … she may have done it, herself.’
‘Oh, no,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘that sweet child would never have done that.’ She had bright blue eyes that looked out at him from a mass of wrinkles. Her mouth was set in a straight, disapproving line. ‘No, no, never.’
‘Then, ma’am—’
‘My name is Miss Orchid,’ she said. ‘Or you may call me Martha.’
‘All right, Martha,’ he said, ‘would you know of anyone who might want to hurt Helen?’
‘Why, no,’ she said. ‘Everyone in the building who knows – knew her – liked her. I don’t think you’ll find anyone here who would hurt her. You should try that place.’
‘What place?’
‘That place where she works.’
‘The Sands, you mean? The hotel?’
‘Casino,’ she said, slowly. Her tone was heavy with disapproval.
‘You think someone at the casino wanted to hurt her?’
‘I am saying that place is filled with evil people,’ she said. ‘This building is not.’
‘Do you know if she had any … gentlemen friends?’
‘Helen kept to herself,’ Martha Orchid said. ‘I never saw her go out after she came home from work.’
‘What about something like grocery shopping?’
‘She usually came home from work with a couple of bags of groceries. Sometimes she bought me a few things. I don’t go out, you see.’
‘I understand. So you’ve never known her to have an argument with anyone in the building?’
Miss Orchid hesitated.
‘Martha?’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘she did have cross words once or twice with Mr Hannigan.’
‘And who is Mr Hannigan?’
‘They call him the manager, but he’s just a glorified super.’
‘Oh, I spoke to him, briefly.’
‘Well, perhaps you should speak to him more,’ she suggested. ‘Maybe you will learn something.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Danny said. He had to return the key, anyway. ‘Thank you for your time, Martha.’
He stood up. She rose to her feet more slowly and walked him to the door.
‘How did she die?’ she asked.
‘That’s not something you want to think about, ma’am.’
‘I’m eighty-three years old, young man,’ she said. ‘Not much could shock me.’
He didn’t believe her. A woman who thought casinos were evil would be shocked by a lot of things – least of all the way Helen Simms had died.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, and left.
TWENTY-ONE
He went back downstairs to the manager’s apartment and rang the bell.
The man opened the door, chewing on something, and said, ‘Got my key?’
‘I’d like to come in and ask you some questions, Mr Hannigan.’ He didn’t hand the key back. Not yet.
‘What about?’
‘Helen Simms.’
‘You said she’s dead,’ he replied. ‘What’s that got to do with me?’
‘We need some information,’ he said, knowing that the man would interpret the ‘we’ as being the police. He still hadn’t claimed to be a cop, though.
‘I’m eatin’ my dinner.’
‘I won’t take long,’ Danny said. ‘I’ll try not to upset your … family.’
The man scowled. ‘Got no family. Just me. Yeah, OK, come on in.’
Danny went inside and closed the door. The apartment was similar to that of Martha Orchid’s, but instead of smelling musty it just smelled stale – old food, sweat – and just plain dirty.
‘OK, my dinner’s on the table in the kitchen,’ Hannigan said, turning to face Danny, ‘so whatta ya want?’
‘Do you know anybody in the building who might have had something against Helen Simms?’
‘She was a stuck-up, snooty bitch but I don’t think anybody wanted to kill ’er.’
The Way You Die Tonight Page 6