‘Could you stop doin’ that?’ I asked.
‘What?’
‘Lookin’ over your shoulder,’ I said. ‘You’ve been doin’ it since we left my house. You’re makin’ me nervous.’
‘You should be nervous,’ Jerry said. ‘If I had an open contract out on me, I’d be nervous, too.’
‘Why should I be lookin’ over my shoulder?’ I asked. ‘I’ve got you for that.’
Jerry grinned and said, ‘Fuckin’ A.’ And he looked out the back window again.
The car let us off in front of a black wrought-iron double gate. We rang the bell and the gates opened. The limo driver waved and indicated that he’d be waiting for us there. We walked up a winding path to a big white stuccoed house.
Jerry and I were both wearing sports coats and slacks, black shoes for me, brown for him. I felt kind of underdressed for the occasion. I wondered how he felt.
As we approached, the front door opened and Judy herself stood there. I’m one who always preferred Judy Garland’s hair the way she wore it when she was younger, long rather than in a short, butch cut, but I had to admit she looked pretty regal standing there in a white silk blouse, black capri pants and flat slippers. She had dressed for comfort, not to impress, and suddenly I didn’t feel so underdressed.
‘Eddie Gianelli?’ she asked.
‘That’s right, Miss Garland.’
She looked somewhat timid. ‘Do you have some identification?’ she asked.
‘Would my driver’s license do?’ I asked.
‘That would be fine.’
I took it out and showed it to her. She handed it back and looked up at Jerry.
‘This is my colleague, Jerry Epstein,’ I introduced.
‘Miss Garland,’ Jerry said, almost bashfully, ‘I’m just the muscle.’
That comment seemed to perk her up, and she grinned.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘you look perfectly cast for that role. Won’t you both come in?’
We entered the house, and she led us to what appeared to be a playroom of sorts – furniture, yes, but also a bar, complete with bar stools.
‘Can I get either of you a drink?’ she asked.
‘Ma’am,’ Jerry asked, ‘don’t you have somebody who does that for ya?’
‘Oh, it’s just us here today. I didn’t want anyone else around.’
‘Then I’ll get the drinks,’ Jerry said, rushing behind the bar.
‘You’re so sweet,’ she said. ‘And please call me Judy – both of you.’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t do that. What can I get ya?’
‘Just a club soda, please,’ she said, rubbing her upper arms as if she was cold. I’d seen the gesture before in drinkers who were trying to resist.
‘Club soda for me, too, Jerry.’
He looked at me for a minute, then got it. ‘I’ll have the same.’
He put ice cubes into three highball glasses and filled them with club soda, came around the bar and handed them out, then went back there with his drink.
‘Judy,’ I said, ‘I don’t know what Frank might have told you about me—’
‘He told me Eddie G. is the guy to go to when you need help,’ she said. ‘He said you’ve helped him, and Dino and Sammy … and so many others.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’ve gotten lucky a time—’
‘You’re being modest.’
‘No, I’m not,’ I said, ‘but let’s put that aside for a moment. Why don’t you tell me what your problem is, and I’ll see if I think I can help you?’
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Let’s sit down.’
We went to the chairs, which were functional rather than comfortable. No cushions, just iron and leather. I guessed they were supposed to look futuristic.
Judy and I sat, while Jerry remained behind the bar, watching and listening.
Judy took a drink from her glass, as if she really needed it – only it wasn’t what she really needed.
‘I’m not at all sure where to start,’ she said, putting one hand to her forehead.
‘We can wait,’ I said.
TWELVE
‘It’s probably just a silly thing,’ she said, ‘but so much of my life is chaotic, I can’t always tell the silly from the real.’
‘That’s OK,’ I said. ‘Just tell me what you’re thinkin’, and we’ll go from there.’
But she had some things to talk out, and I decided to just let her.
‘I’ve always had trouble with money.’ She waved her hand, and her tone seemed to be on the verge of hysteria for a moment. Then she took a deep breath. ‘But that’s not your problem. And then there’s my career … acting jobs have dried up, I’ve mostly just been singing for the past four or five years. When I did my TV show with Frank and Dean, it went so well, but then they gave me a weekly show, and the viewers didn’t show up.’ She shrugged. I knew her show, though critically acclaimed, had recently been canceled. ‘Everyone thinks I’m so successful … silly Oz thing … Andy Hardy movies notwithstanding …’
She trailed off, gulped the rest of her club soda, probably wishing there was something else mixed in with it. She looked nervous and fragile. This close, without the make-up afforded her by movie magic, she appeared older than her forty-two years. I thought I remembered that her drink of choice was vodka mixed with black tea.
‘Let me get you some more club soda,’ I offered, taking her glass to Jerry.
I wondered if I should have him spike it with just a touch of vodka. Maybe that would ease her somewhat and get her on track.
I decided to chance it. I located a bottle of vodka behind Jerry and pointed to it, then held my thumb and forefinger about half an inch apart, indicating that he should tip in just a touch. He did so and stirred it, and I returned the glass to Judy Garland. She tipped it to her mouth, sipped it, and her beautiful eyes widened for just a moment. She didn’t say anything, however. She simply lowered the glass to her lap, where she clasped it in both hands and suddenly seemed a bit calmer.
I sat across from her. ‘Go ahead, Judy. Get it finished.’
‘With all of the ups and downs of my life,’ she continued, ‘I have never come up against any sort of … physical threat.’
‘Until now?’
She sipped her drink again.
‘It started in Australia,’ she said. ‘I was sure I was being followed. I couldn’t concentrate. I was late for performances. People thought it was because I was … drunk … or high. I know what they say. I’m not deaf to the … gossip.’ She finished her drink.
‘More?’ I asked.
‘No!’ she said firmly. ‘No.’ She took a deep breath, set the empty glass on a nearby table, then clasped her hands in her lap.
‘England was much better,’ she said. ‘I had Liza with me, the shows went so well. But when we returned home, it started again.’
I looked at Jerry, who simply shrugged.
‘Who have you seen?’ I asked.
‘Shadows.’
‘But you’ve never actually seen anyone?’ I asked. ‘A man? A face?’
‘Someone,’ she said, raising one hand and wagging her finger as if admonishing me, ‘has been in my house. I came home one day and found my things had been … gone through. Rifled.’
‘Rifled?’
‘A woman knows when someone has been through her underwear drawer.’
‘Ah …’
‘That’s when I called Frank,’ she said. ‘I simply didn’t know where else to turn.’
‘What about the police?’
She shook her head.
‘I can’t afford the publicity,’ she said. ‘My reputation is already …’ She waved a hand.
‘I understand.’
‘I just need to find out if I’m … imagining things, or if someone is really … following me, maybe even … stalking me, the way they’d stalk an animal before …’
Before striking, I thought. We had more in common, apparently, than I had initially thought when I
first entered her house. I looked at Jerry again and he nodded.
‘All right, Judy,’ I said.
She looked at me, startled, as if I had just awakened her.
‘You’ll help me?’
‘We’ll see what we can find out,’ I answered. ‘Where are your children?’
‘Somewhere safe.’
‘And you?’
‘I’m staying here at the moment.’
‘Alone?’
‘I have a staff. I gave them the day off. They’ll be back this evening.’
‘How many?’
‘Two – a man and a woman.’
‘It’s better you stay inside,’ Jerry said, speaking for the first time in a while. ‘Stay behind these walls, until we come back. Can you do that?’
‘I have some meetings,’ she said, ‘but things can be arranged. I can meet with people here.’
‘People?’ I asked.
‘Studio people, people from my recording label, it’s all business …’
‘Don’t let anyone in, unless they’re with someone you do know.’
‘A–All right,’ she stammered.
I stood up and Jerry came from behind the bar. Judy stood and looked at us, wide-eyed, like Dorothy staring at the Wizard.
‘You … you don’t think I’m imagining things?’
‘I might have,’ I said, ‘but then there’s your underwear drawer, isn’t there?’
THIRTEEN
We left Judy’s house with the promise that we would return later.
‘Will you … can you stay here?’ she asked. ‘I have rooms.’
‘Frank has arranged for us to stay at the Beverly Hills Hotel,’ I told her. ‘That’ll be our base of operations, for now.’
‘A–All right.’
‘Be sure the doors and gates are locked after we leave.’
‘Eddie …’ she said, and for the first time she looked frightened.
I touched her arm. ‘We’re going to have somebody watchin’ the house while we’re gone. I’ll call you as soon as we have him in place. And we’ll tell you who he is, in case he wants to come in. Actually, we’ll bring him in and introduce him later this evening when we return.’
‘Come back for dinner,’ she said. ‘I’ll have Cook prepare something.’
‘That’s a deal.’
Back in the limo, Jerry asked, ‘Who we gonna get to watch the house. The dick?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘Danny’s working the Vegas angle, tryin’ to find out who’s out to get me, remember?’
‘Then who?’
‘Danny was in LA last month and said he worked with a guy who was experienced and very good.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘The Double-A Detective Agency,’ I said. ‘It’s run by a fella named Nathan Hiller, who has offices in Chicago and LA. I thought I’d call Danny and make sure we’ve got a reference.’
‘What about Otash?’
‘Not this time,’ I said. ‘Otash is too concerned about headlines. When we get to the hotel, I’ll try to arrange for Hiller, or somebody from his office.’
‘You’re the boss,’ he said.
The last time we were at the Beverly Hills Hotel was a couple of years back when we were helping Ava Gardner – also at Frank’s request. But I had gotten a lot closer to Ava than I’d ever get with Judy Garland.
The driver stopped in front of the hotel and we got out.
‘What are you gonna do?’ I asked the driver.
‘I’ll be around. Mr Sinatra said this car is yours for as long as you’re in LA. That means you get me, too.’
He’d told me his name at the airport, and I didn’t want to admit I’d forgotten it, so I took a moment to dredge it up.
‘Greg, right?’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘OK, Greg,’ I said. ‘Stick around. We’ll need you again today.’
‘You got it, Mr Gianelli.’
‘Just call me Eddie.’
‘Yes, sir.’
We went inside, registered and discovered that Frank had booked us a two-bedroom bungalow. We took a peek into the Polo Lounge on the way, but didn’t see anyone we knew at that time of day. A little later there’d be celebrities eating and drinking and making deals.
When we got to the bungalow, I got right on the phone to Danny in Vegas, but he didn’t answer. Well, why would he? He was out trying to find out who was trying to kill me.
I hung up.
‘What happened?’ Jerry asked.
‘He’s not there.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘Phone book,’ I said.
Jerry found it and brought it over to me. Double-A was right at the beginning of the private investigator listings – no doubt why Hiller had chosen the name. I knew I could call and invoke Danny’s name without getting him mad.
I dialed and, when it was answered, asked for Nathan Hiller.
‘Who is calling, please?’ she asked, politely.
‘My name is Eddie Gianelli, from Las Vegas.’
‘Does Mr Hiller know you?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘but he knows a friend of mine, Danny Bardini.’
‘I know Danny!’ she said, excitedly. ‘He was here last month.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Are you the Eddie G. he told me about, from the Sands Casino?’
‘I am,’ I said. ‘I hope he told you good things.’
‘Hold on, please,’ she said, without answering the question.
I waited a few minutes and then an authoritative voice came on the line.
‘This is Nat Hiller.’
‘Mr Hiller, my name is Eddie Gianelli,’ I said. ‘I’m a friend of Danny Bardini.’
‘From Las Vegas, right?’
‘That’s right.’
‘How’s Danny doin’?’
‘He’s fine,’ I said. Then decided to add, ‘He’s workin’ a job for me right now, in Vegas.’
‘And is that the reason you’re calling me?’ he asked. ‘Danny’s otherwise engaged.’
‘That’s it exactly.’
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then he said, ‘You mind if I ask what he’s doing for you?’
‘Not at all.’ I’d already decided to be forthcoming with him. ‘He’s tryin’ to keep me alive.’
‘Come again?’
‘There’s an open contract out on me,’ I said. ‘Danny’s tryin’ to find out who’s behind it.’
‘You don’t sound all that concerned,’ Hiller said. ‘Is this something that happens to you often?’
‘Hardly ever,’ I said, ‘and it scares me shitless. But I’m here on another matter.’
‘Staying out of Vegas for now, huh?’
‘That’s right.’
Suddenly – and maybe because I hadn’t fed him any bullshit – his voice became warmer.
‘All right, Eddie, what can I do for you?’
FOURTEEN
I explained to Nat – we had become ‘Nat’ and ‘Eddie’ – about the problem Judy Garland was having – without going into too much detail – and what we were planning to do to help her. I told him I needed somebody to keep an eye on her, and asked if he had an operative we could trust.
‘I’ve got just the man,’ he said. ‘In fact, he was here working on a case, but he’s from the Vegas office. Where are you staying?’
‘The Beverly Hills Hotel.’ I didn’t know Double-A had a Vegas office, but didn’t care where the man came from as long as he was good.
‘Expense account?’ he asked.
‘Frank Sinatra’s footing the bill.’
He whistled. ‘You have important friends, Eddie.’
‘As I understand it from Danny, Nat,’ I said, ‘so do you.’
‘So where and when do you want my guy?’
‘Outside of Judy’s house,’ I said, ‘as soon as possible.’
‘You got it.’
‘I appreciate this.’
‘You’ll get my bill, Edd
ie.’
He told me the operative’s name and said I could call him again if I needed any further help. Danny was right. He was a good guy.
Jerry was hungry, which was no great shock, so we walked down the street to a small diner, rather than eat in the hotel where I might run into somebody I knew. I’d been around enough celebrities over the past few years that it wasn’t a stretch to think that one of them would come in to go to the Polo Lounge and recognize me.
‘We coulda gone someplace better,’ Jerry commented. ‘Like maybe the Brown Derby?’
‘Not right now, Jerry,’ I said. ‘The point is just to get something into our stomachs. This place is good enough.’
‘I can go to a diner in Brooklyn,’ he groused, but he sat down across from me in a booth.
A waitress came over, took drink orders and left us to read the menus. I looked out the window at the foot traffic on Sunset.
‘Hey,’ Jerry said, ‘I wonder if we’re anyplace near Seventy-Seven Sunset Strip? That’s one of my favorite shows. I really get a kick out of Kookie.’
‘We can’t be.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s not a real address.’
‘It ain’t?’ He seemed disappointed.
I shook my head. I didn’t tell him I knew where the real address was.
‘Well,’ Jerry said, ‘can we drive up and down the Strip and look for Dino’s Lodge?’ He leaned forward. ‘That’s real, ain’t it?’
‘Yeah, Dino’s Lodge is real.’
‘Mr Martin owns it, right?’
‘No, not quite,’ I said. ‘See, after Dean and Jerry split, Jerry’s first movie was a hit. Dean’s, though, it was a flop. He fell on some hard times and needed money, so he sold his name to the owners of Dino’s Lodge.’
‘Mr Martin was broke?’
‘It happens to everybody at one time or another, Jerry,’ I said. ‘What are you gonna have?’ I hoped he’d forget the idea about driving up and down the Strip, looking for Dino’s.
‘The meat loaf looks good,’ he said.
I cringed. When the waitress came, he ordered the meat loaf and asked for a double portion. She said she’d have to charge extra, and he said he didn’t care. She shrugged, obviously feeling the same way. I ordered an open-faced roast beef sandwich with wet fries.
When Somebody Kills You Page 4