‘Of choosing … gay men.’
‘Herron’s homosexual?’
‘I’m sure of it.’
‘But he’s hasn’t … said that he is.’
‘No.’
‘The director,’ Jerry said, ‘he was gay, right? What was his name?’
‘Vincente Minnelli.’
‘That’s the guy.’
I looked at Jerry. The big guy sometimes surprised me with the things he knew.
‘He’s going to end up breaking her heart,’ Fields said. ‘And he’s after her money. Before Judy, he was sniffing around Tallulah Bankhead.’
‘Judy mentioned something about money problems.’
‘She doesn’t handle money very well,’ Fields said.
‘So who manages her finances now?’
‘We do,’ Fields said. ‘David and I.’
‘And how does Herron figure he’ll get his hands on it?’
‘By marrying her, obviously.’
‘Have you tried telling Judy your suspicions about her future husband?’
‘She won’t listen,’ he said. ‘Judy makes up her own mind about her men.’
‘So there’s nothing you can do?’
‘Just wait,’ Fields said. ‘This marriage won’t last. We’ll be there to catch her when it falls apart.’
‘So you haven’t seen anyone else around her?’
‘No.’
I wondered about her suspicions that someone had broken into her house. Maybe someone hadn’t had to break in. Maybe he was already there.
EIGHTEEN
Freddie Fields was more helpful than his partner, but that didn’t mean I ended up liking him any better. In the end, I did decide he was trying to handle us. He was just too slick. His partner might have warned him to treat us in an entirely different way than he had.
As we approached the limo, Greg quickly opened the back door for us.
‘Where to, boss?’ he asked.
‘Back to the hotel for now, Greg,’ I said.
‘I thought we were gonna eat at Miss Garland’s house?’ Jerry asked.
‘We are,’ I said, ‘but we still have a few hours before that. Let’s go back to the hotel and rehash what we’ve learned from these two managers.’
‘I didn’t like either one of ’em,’ Jerry said, sitting back as Greg pulled away from the house.
‘Can’t say I cared for either of them, myself,’ I agreed. ‘That Begelman is slimy …’
‘And this fella was too damn slick,’ Jerry finished.
‘Right.’
‘Can we pick somethin’ up on the way?’ Jerry asked.
‘Jerry—’
‘That sounds good to me, guys,’ Greg chimed in.
‘I tell you what,’ I said. ‘You fellas drop me at the hotel and then go and get a snack. How’s that sound?’
‘Works for me,’ Greg said.
‘Me, too!’
While they went off to find some food, I got on the phone and tried to get Danny. He was at his desk, still answering his own phone.
‘Your fault,’ he said when I mentioned it. ‘You’re the one who suggested I make it official with Penny—’
‘Yeah, yeah, OK,’ I said. ‘You gonna remind me of that every time we talk?’
‘Probably. What’s up?’
‘I was gonna ask you that,’ I said. ‘Anything on my imminent demise?’
‘Not a peep on the street,’ Danny said. ‘I’m startin’ to dig a little deeper, though.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Keep me in the loop, will you? Here’s my number.’ I gave it to him. ‘The Beverly Hills Hotel.’
‘Nice digs,’ he said. ‘Listen, Eddie, don’t you wanna check in with Jack on this? Maybe some of his contacts—’
‘I told Jack about it,’ I said. ‘If I know him, he’s checking.’
‘And Frank?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I haven’t said a word to Frank. I want him to think all my attention is on Judy.’
‘OK, I get it,’ he said. ‘I guess I was thinkin’ about – well, you know – Momo.’
‘If things get bad,’ I said, ‘I’ll check in with Giancana. But I really don’t want to be in Momo’s debt.’
‘Have you spotted anybody payin’ you special attention since you’ve been in LA?’
‘No … not yet, anyway.’
‘Well, that’s good. Maybe you’ve managed to hide yourself well enough.’
‘Let’s hope it stays that way.’
‘How’s the Judy Garland thing?’
‘Not much happenin’,’ I said. ‘Jerry wants to go look for Seventy-Seven Sunset Strip.’
‘Did you tell him it doesn’t exist?’
‘I did. He was crushed.’
‘Why don’t you just take him to Dino’s?’
‘I might have to do that before we leave.’
‘Oh, hey, Penny’s here. I told her we’d go and have dinner.’
‘Tell her I say hello.’
‘I’ll stay on this, Eddie,’ he said, before hanging up. ‘We’ll find out who’s behind it.’
‘Thanks, Danny.’ I hung up. The phone rang almost immediately. ‘Hello?’
‘Mr Gianelli, this is the front desk,’ a man’s voice said.
‘Yes?’
‘There’s a man here asking for you, sir.’
‘Is that so?’ I asked. ‘Did he give his name?’
‘No,’ the clerk said. ‘He told me to tell you he’d be in the Polo Lounge.’
‘How long has he been here?’ I asked.
‘Oh, he walked in about five minutes ago. Asked for you right off.’
‘He wouldn’t happen to be a policeman, would he?’
‘He didn’t say, sir,’ the clerk said. ‘He certainly didn’t show me a badge.’
‘What’s he wearin’?’ I asked.
‘A blue suit,’ the clerk said. ‘Looks kinda nice.’
‘OK. Thanks.’
I hung up, wondering how long it would be before Jerry got back.
NINETEEN
I decided not to wait for Jerry. After all, even if the guy was a contract hitter, he wasn’t about to kill me in the middle of the Polo Lounge.
I put my jacket back on and left the cottage. I’ll admit to some butterflies in my stomach as I entered the hotel and walked to the lounge. I wasn’t so jaded that having somebody out to kill me – more than one somebody – didn’t make me nervous.
When I got to the entrance of the lounge, I stopped and looked in. There were still no big celebrities in view. Some of the people seated at tables could have been studio types taking meetings, or waiting for some big name to arrive, but at the moment there was nobody there I knew. I looked around, saw a tall fella in a blue suit sitting at the bar. There were some other blue suits, but this was the only man who was alone.
I went in and approached the bar, took the stool one to Blue Suit’s left.
‘Hello, sir?’ the bartender said. ‘Are you a guest?’
‘I am,’ I said.
‘What can I get you?’
‘Get me whatever this gentleman is having,’ I said. ‘After all, my drink is on him.’
The man in the suit stopped with his glass halfway to his mouth, then turned his head to look at me. ‘You Eddie Gianelli?’ he asked.
‘That’s right.’
The bartender looked at the man.
‘Get him his drink.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The bartender put a glass with ice on the bar and poured some bourbon into it. Blue Suit watched. I could tell he was tall, even seated, in his late thirties, pretty fit. He could have been a cop or a hood. He was in shape for either one.
‘Thanks.’
‘Why don’t you move over one?’ Blue Suit invited.
‘I like it here,’ I said. ‘At least until I know what you want.’
‘Me?’ he said. ‘I’m just a guy who might know something of interest to you.’
‘And what would that be?’
> ‘Let’s talk a while first,’ he said. ‘Maybe get acquainted.’
‘A fella who wants to get acquainted with me,’ I answered, ‘usually starts with his name.’
‘You can call me … Amico.’
‘Amico,’ I said. ‘And there’s no irony in that name, right?’
‘Of course not.’
I picked up my drink and sipped it. I doubted he’d managed to coerce the bartender into drugging it, and he didn’t look as if he was wearing a gun under that tailored suit jacket.
‘What’s on your mind, Mr Amico?’
‘Not Mister,’ he said, ‘just Amico … Eddie.’
‘Fine,’ I said, ‘we’re Amico and Eddie. We’re buddies now. What do you want?’
‘I don’t want you to get killed.’
‘Why not?’
‘Let’s just say I have a vested interest in you staying alive.’
‘But we don’t know each other.’
‘I know a lot of people,’ he said. ‘You know a lot of people. It only figures that some of them would know each other.’
‘OK,’ I said, ‘this is a guessin’ game.’ I drank again. ‘Somebody we both know sent you to warn me.’
He didn’t answer or react. He just looked at the bartender and indicated two more drinks.
‘OK,’ I repeated, ‘I’m warned. Where do we go from here?’
‘I’d just like to be sure that you’ll take the proper steps to stay alive.’
‘I left Vegas, didn’t I?’
‘That was a good start,’ he admitted, ‘but it won’t take long for somebody to find you here. After all … I did.’
‘Point taken,’ I said. ‘I think I’m doin’ what needs to be done, thanks.’
‘Care to fill me in?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘just on the off chance that you might be here to kill me, not help me.’
He smiled. It was a smile that should have been in the movies. I guess that was what kept me from seeing who and what he really was from the beginning.
He concentrated on his drink.
‘Are we done?’ I asked.
‘I am,’ he said. ‘If you want another drink, you’re going to have to pay for it yourself.’
‘That’s OK.’ I put down my second drink, untouched. ‘I’ve had enough, thanks.’
‘I’ll be seeing you,’ he said.
‘Will you?’
‘Oh, yes.’
I left the Polo Lounge, unsure whether that was a promise or a threat.
TWENTY
When Jerry returned, I filled him in on my meeting with Amico.
‘Mr G.,’ he said when I was done, ‘you never shoulda went and met him.’
‘It was in a public place, Jerry,’ I said. ‘If he was after me, I didn’t think he’d try anything.’
‘If somebody wants you bad enough’ he said, ‘they’ll do it anyplace.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll remember. But this … it was like he was sent here to warn me.’
‘Sent by who?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘He was dressed too good to be a cop or a hood.’
‘What’d he look like?’
I described him.
‘I don’t know him, neither,’ he said, frowning.
‘You think you know every hitter on the east and west coast?’ I asked.
‘Mr G.,’ he said, reproachfully, ‘such a question.’
‘Is Greg outside?’ I asked.
‘Yeah. He’s waitin’ with the limo.’
‘OK, we might as well go back to Judy’s and talk to her some more.’
‘And eat?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and eat.’
Greg drove us to Judy’s house. In the car, Jerry spoke some more about Amico. He wanted to know exactly what he looked like, including any scars or marks, how he spoke, how he moved. He was looking for any kind of identifier that would help him figure out who the man was.
‘You know,’ I said, ‘in the beginning, when I first started talkin’ to him, I thought he was just a messenger, but now I’m not so sure. And the name.’
‘Yeah,’ Jerry said, ‘what’s that mean, “Amico”?’
‘Friend,’ I said. ‘Jerry, it’s Italian for “friend”.’
As we pulled up in front of the house, I leaned forward and asked Greg, ‘Do you want to come in? I’m sure Miss Garland won’t mind.’
‘I appreciate the offer, boss,’ he said, turning to look at us, ‘but the closest I want to get to these people is them in the back seat while I’m in the front. Or in the movies. But thanks for asking.’
‘Suit yourself, then. Guess you can take off,’ I said, ‘do what you wanna do and come back for us in a couple of hours.’
‘Thanks.’
As we walked to the door, Jerry said, ‘He’s a pretty OK fella.’
‘I’m glad you guys got along.’
When we knocked this time the door was answered by a middle-aged man. He was clean-shaven – actually appeared to be newly shaved, shine and all – his hair slicked back, and he was dressed in a black suit.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said, executing just a slight bow, ‘Miss Garland is waiting in the living room. Would you follow me this way, please?’
As we walked, I asked, ‘How do you know who we are?’ I was concerned that he had allowed us to enter without identification.
He pointed behind him, without looking, as he continued forward. ‘That one,’ he said, indicating Jerry, ‘is hard to miss.’
Judy was, indeed, waiting for us in the living room. She was seated on the plush sofa – or maybe, in a house like that, it was called a divan. I really don’t know the difference. Once again, she was dressed as casually as a movie star can dress, in a purple silk blouse and tight pedal pushers. On her feet were a simple pair of slippers.
‘Eddie,’ she said, breathlessly. ‘I’m so glad to see you. You too, Jerry.’
‘We told you we’d be back.’
‘I had Cook whip up something I think you’re going to like,’ she said. ‘We’ve just been waiting for you to get here. Harrington, will you tell Cook she can serve now?’
‘Yes, Miss Garland.’
The man left the room and I walked over to join Judy on the sofa. Jerry remained standing, his hands clasped in front of him.
Judy reached out to take my hands. She was cold and clammy, and held on tightly.
‘Have you found out anything?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I found out I don’t like your managers.’
‘I know,’ she said, ‘they’re not very likeable, but they’ve been … well, they got me the CBS deal. It’s not their fault the show was canceled.’
I had a feeling she was going to say something else and had changed midstream. I looked at her face and saw fear there. It made her look brittle and older. I hoped I was the person who was going to take that fear away from her, soften her look, take her back to the way she looked in Meet Me in St. Louis. The director of that film, Vincente Minnelli, had fallen in love with her and had lit her in such a way that even Judy thought she looked beautiful.
That was probably a little naïve on my part, since St. Louis was twenty years before, but I’d always felt Judy Garland had looked luminous in her movies. There was nothing of that in the Judy I was looking at now.
‘Judy, your managers weren’t very helpful,’ I said, ‘but they weren’t on your tour with you, so tomorrow I’m going to talk to Mark Herron.’
‘Oh, I’m sure Mark will be more helpful than they were,’ she said. ‘Mark understands what I’m going through.’
Harrington appeared at the doorway again. ‘Miss Garland, dinner is ready.’
‘Thank you, Harrington.’ She stood up, squared her shoulders and spoke some of Jerry’s favorite words: ‘Come on, boys, let’s eat!’
Jerry said, ‘You don’t gotta tell me twice,’ but he was still gentleman enough to step aside and let Judy lead the way.
TWENTY-ONE
I didn
’t know who Judy thought she was feeding. Even Jerry couldn’t put much of a dent in the feast she had her cook lay out for us. From fried chicken to roast beef, with plenty of mashed potatoes and other vegetables. But as much as I dug in and Jerry plowed through, Judy herself ate very little of it. She seemed nervous to me, rubbing her hands together much more often then she used them to handle utensils.
When she spoke, she spoke quickly and with passion, but it seemed she might be trying to convince herself more than us. Mostly, she talked about Mark Herron.
‘He’s a wonderful young actor, handsome and charismatic, still to be discovered, but he put his career on hold to help me. Who does that in this town? Hollywood is a me, me, me place, Eddie. Always me first, but not Mark. He’s putting my needs ahead of his own, and I love him for it.’
Well, her managers weren’t so sure that Mark Herron was putting his own needs last. I was going to reserve my opinion until we spoke to him the next day.
‘He sounds like a great guy.’
‘He is,’ she said. ‘I’ve been around a lot of great guys, Eddie. It may not be Frank’s reputation, but he’s a great guy. So is Dean, and so is Gene Kelly. I know a great one when I see him.’ She pointed to me. ‘You’re a great guy. And you—’ she started to say to Jerry, but he cut her off.
‘That’s OK, Miss Garland,’ he said. ‘Don’t say it. I ain’t no great guy. But you’re right – Mr G. is.’
‘You’re too modest, Jerry,’ she said. ‘You’re a great big teddy bear.’ She looked at me. ‘Does he always call you that? “Mr G.”?’
‘Lots of people call him that,’ Jerry said. ‘In Vegas, he’s Mr G. He’s the guy.’
‘Well, Frank thinks he’s the guy,’ Judy said, ‘and now that I’ve met you both, I’m putting my faith in you.’
The cook, a fifty-ish woman with a slight German accent, came out of the kitchen and asked, ‘What can I bring you next, ma’am?’
‘What do you say, Jerry?’ Judy asked. ‘Dessert?’
‘Hell, yeah,’ Jerry said. Then ducked his head and said, ‘Uh, sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ she said. She looked at the woman and said, ‘You heard the man, Greta … hell, yeah!’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
I had intended to skip dessert and just have coffee, but when I saw the chocolate layer cake, I had to go for a slice. Jerry had two. Judy had a sliver, and we all had coffee.
When Somebody Kills You Page 6