When Somebody Kills You

by Robert J. Randisi

  ‘Judy,’ I said, ‘do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘Ask all the questions you want.’

  ‘Other than your house staff, your managers and Mark Herron, who else is part of your everyday life? I mean, other than your kids, of course.’

  She thought a moment, then shrugged. ‘No one – not really. I mean, I talk to some people on the phone, or I meet with studio or record execs, but no one else on a day-to-day basis.’

  ‘Anyone else in this house besides Harrington and the cook?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘So there’s only Mark for us to talk to.’

  ‘I suppose – but he’ll probably be the most helpful.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  She frowned. ‘What did David and Freddie tell you about Mark?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Nothing good, I’ll bet. They think he’s after me for his own benefit, don’t they?’

  Jerry and I exchanged a glance.

  ‘They’re wrong,’ she said. ‘He loves me. He does!’

  I held my hands out in a back-up gesture. ‘Take it easy, Judy,’ I said. ‘We’re on your side, remember?’

  She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. ‘I’m sorry. I just get so tired of people …’ She didn’t finish the thought.

  I washed down my last bite of cake with coffee. ‘Jerry and I have to get going.’

  ‘Oh, must you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, standing, ‘but we have somebody outside watching the house.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to tell her that we hadn’t met the man yet. All we had was the name Hiller had given me.

  ‘He’s a detective,’ I said, ‘a good man. He’ll keep an eye on you while we keep looking.’

  ‘Well, all right,’ she said. ‘If you say so, Eddie. I’ve pretty much put myself in your hands, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, not at all sure she had done so wisely, ‘you have.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  Jerry and I left the house and stepped outside the gates. Greg wasn’t back with the car yet.

  ‘He’ll be here in a minute or two,’ Jerry said. ‘I’m sure of it.’

  I looked around.

  ‘What are you lookin’ for?’ he asked.

  ‘Hiller’s man,’ I said. ‘He’s supposed to be watching the house.’

  ‘But he’s not supposed to be seen, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Then you ain’t gonna see ’im.’

  ‘Then how do we know he’s here?’

  ‘Nat Hiller said he’d be here, and you said you trusted him.’

  ‘Only because Danny does.’

  Jerry shrugged. ‘Same thing, right?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I want to see him. I wanna meet ’im.’

  ‘So,’ Jerry said, ‘all we gotta do is find ’im, or get ’im to come out.’

  ‘If you wanted to watch this house and not be seen, where would you be?’

  ‘Inside the walls,’ Jerry said, ‘not out here. Somebody comes over the wall, or forces the gate, they mean trouble.’

  ‘OK, then,’ I said, ‘back inside.’

  We hadn’t closed the gate behind us yet, so we went back.

  ‘You’re the expert on the criminal mind, Jerry,’ I said. ‘Where would you look?’

  ‘No place.’

  ‘Then what do you suggest we do?’

  ‘Just wait,’ Jerry said. ‘If he’s any good, he’ll come out to see what we want.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘That’s what I’d do,’ Jerry said. ‘And ain’t I the expert, like you said?’

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  ‘So that’s what I say, Mr G. We just wait here.’

  ‘It would help if we knew what the guy looked like. I should’ve asked Hiller—’

  ‘I’d guess,’ Jerry said, interrupting me, ‘that he looks somethin’ like that.’

  I looked over to where Jerry was pointing and saw a man coming out from behind some trees. He was wearing a suit and a fedora, and as he approached he removed the fedora and started beating it on his suit.

  ‘When I came here from Vegas,’ he commented. ‘I didn’t realize I should have brought along some trail clothes.’ He stopped and replaced the fedora on his head, then looked at us. ‘You Eddie G.?’ he asked me.

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘I’m Eddie, and this is Jerry Epstein.’

  ‘Nice to meet you.’ He looked up at Jerry’s six and half feet from his own five and a half. ‘My name’s Boyd – Kenny Boyd.’

  I shook his hand, then watched as Jerry’s hand engulfed his.

  ‘You got some ID?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, sure.’ He took out his wallet and showed me his Las Vegas PI license. Boyd was the name Hiller had given me. I handed it back.

  ‘I figured you guys were standing out here waitin’ for me to show myself,’ Boyd said. He looked to be about thirty, and his blue suit had seen better days but had once cost a few bucks.

  ‘Have you seen anything in the short time you’ve been here?’ I asked.

  ‘Only you two, so far. Look, when do I get to go and have something to eat? Maybe clean up some?’

  I stared at him for a moment, realizing that I should have asked Hiller for two men, one to relieve the other.

  ‘I’ve got an idea, Kenny,’ I said. ‘How would you like to meet Judy Garland?’

  ‘Would I?’ Boyd asked. ‘I thought I was just gonna get a chance to watch her house.’

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We’ll get you something to eat at the same time.’

  We left Kenny Boyd eating some of the fine dinner Judy’s cook had prepared for us and went back out to the street, where we found Greg waiting with the limo.

  ‘Sorry I was late, boss—’

  ‘You’re not late, Greg,’ I said. ‘You’re just in time.’

  Once we were in the back seat and the car was moving, Jerry said, ‘That dick from Vegas was kinda small, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Hiller said he’s a good man,’ I said. ‘We’ve got to take his word.’

  ‘I didn’t say he wasn’t good,’ Jerry argued. ‘Just said he was small.’

  TWENTY-THREE

  When I got up the next morning, Jerry was in the bungalow’s kitchen, making coffee.

  ‘Where’d you get the coffee?’ I asked.

  ‘Paid a bellhop to bring it,’ he said. ‘Donuts, too.’ He pointed to a bag on the counter.

  ‘Coffee and donuts suits me fine.’

  ‘Well,’ Jerry said, ‘it’ll hold us until we can get to a diner.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said.

  He poured me a cup of coffee, then carried his own and the donuts to the table. He pulled out a jelly and I grabbed a chocolate.

  ‘What’s first today?’ he asked. ‘We goin’ to see that Mark Herron fella?’

  ‘That’s where we’re goin’, all right.’

  ‘I wonder if he’s so all-fired great as Miss Garland says he is.’

  ‘Jerry,’ I said, ‘nobody’s that great.’

  He bit into his donut, then asked, ‘But we’re gonna go have breakfast first, right?’

  Jerry agreed that the diner we’d gone to before would be fine for breakfast. Turns out the food there was pretty damn good. Once again, we sat at the window, watching the foot traffic on Sunset Boulevard. Greg and the limo were parked down the street.

  ‘What are you lookin’ so nervous about?’ I asked Jerry after we’d given our orders.

  ‘I was just wonderin’ if somebody would have the balls to take a shot at you through this window,’ Jerry said.

  Now I was nervous.

  ‘You might be right.’

  We moved to another booth, this one away from a window. When the waitress came with our food, she looked around in confusion, then spotted us and came over.

  ‘Switched tables on me,’ she said.

  ‘Too many people
gettin’ ready to watch us eat,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Well,’ she said to him, putting plates of pancakes and eggs in front of him, ‘if the last time you was here is any indication, watchin’ you eat is somethin’ else.’

  ‘Not when you’ve done it as often as I have,’ I told her.

  She put my toast down in front of me and withdrew.

  ‘That really all you’re gonna have?’ he asked, drowning his pancakes in syrup.

  ‘I told you. The donuts were good enough for me.’

  The bellhop had brought six donuts, and I managed to snag two of them. But the bacon on Jerry’s plate looked good, so I stole a slice.

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Sorry, Jerry,’ I said. ‘I lost my head. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘It better not.’

  While we ate, I asked, ‘What about Greg? He didn’t wanna come in and eat?’

  ‘He says you’re the boss, and he should stay in the car,’ Jerry said. ‘I guess I know how he feels.’

  I knew, too. He preferred to keep his business and pleasure separate. Eating with Jerry was OK, because he perceived Jerry as an employee. But I was the boss, so he preferred to keep things professional.

  I eyed another slice of bacon on Jerry’s plate, but he saw me and shook his head.

  I ate my toast.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Mark Herron lived in an apartment complex in LA. It was two stories around a swimming pool, but the pool hadn’t been very well cared for.

  ‘I think I can see why he’d want to marry Miss Garland,’ Jerry said, looking around. ‘He must not be doin’ real well as an actor.’

  ‘If he’s livin’ here,’ I said, ‘he’s barely makin’ a livin’.’

  Once again, Greg stayed out by the car. I guessed that would be our pattern until we were finished in LA and he took us back to the airport.

  ‘He’s on the second floor,’ I said. ‘Come on.’

  We walked along the pool to a stairway and up to the second floor. From up there the place looked even more deserted, the pool even dirtier. It hadn’t been cleaned in so long that some of the dirt had settled on the bottom.

  We reached Herron’s door and knocked. When he didn’t answer, I wondered if he was off somewhere, maybe working or maybe getting something to eat. I knocked a second time and the door opened.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he asked. Like Judy said, he was handsome and fit. Begelman had said he was younger than Judy. I put him in his mid- to late thirties.

  ‘Mr Herron? My name’s Eddie Gianelli. This is Jerry Epstein. We’re—’

  ‘Friends of Frank Sinatra,’ Herron said. ‘Judy called me. Come on in.’

  He was wearing jeans, an open-neck polo shirt and a pair of slippers. The apartment was sparsely furnished with second-hand furniture. He was living the way most actors probably did while trying to hit it big. If he was marrying Judy Garland, then he was about to hit it real big.

  ‘Sorry about the place,’ he said. ‘It’s all I can afford right now.’

  ‘But … you’re marrying Miss Garland,’ Jerry said.

  Herron looked up at Jerry. He was about my height – six feet.

  ‘She wanted to get me a better place,’ Herron said, ‘but I never wanted to be a kept man.’

  ‘That’s … admirable.’

  ‘You fellas want a drink? I’ve got some beer in my fridge.’

  ‘A little early for me,’ I said.

  ‘Me, too,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Coffee, then?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, ‘we’ll have coffee.’

  The apartment was an efficiency, so we watched as he went to the stove and heated some coffee. When we each had a cup, we sat on furniture that had no cush left in the cushions.

  ‘Didn’t you get paid for producing her tour?’ I asked.

  ‘I did,’ Herron said. ‘I used that money to get caught up on my bills.’

  ‘Well,’ Jerry said, ‘you’re gettin’ married in a few days. You’ll be better off then.’

  ‘I’ll be better off because I’ll be with Judy,’ Herron said, ‘not because of her money.’

  ‘I didn’t mean nothin’,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Sure,’ Herron said, ‘no problem. What can I do to help you fellas?’

  ‘Tell us about Australia,’ I said, ‘and England.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Judy said she had the feeling she was being watched. Did you ever see anyone?’

  ‘No,’ Herron said, ‘I never did. I tried to keep her from being afraid, but it didn’t help her that I never saw anyone. It made her feel … well, that maybe I didn’t believe her.’

  ‘Did you believe her?’ I asked. ‘It doesn’t seem that Fields and Begelman ever did.’

  ‘They’re a couple of crooks,’ Herron said, ‘especially Begelman. Once we’re married, I’m going to try to convince Judy to fire them.’

  ‘And then you’ll take over as her manager?’

  ‘I’m an actor, Mr Gianelli, not a manager.’

  ‘You handled the tour.’

  ‘I told Judy I’d do that as a favor,’ he said. ‘She insisted on paying me.’

  ‘Then who do you think should manage her?’

  ‘We’ll have to find somebody,’ he said, ‘but I think Sid Luft should do it for a while, take over from Fields and Begelman.’

  ‘Her ex-husband?’ Jerry asked.

  Herron nodded. ‘He cares about her.’

  ‘Won’t that make you jealous?’

  Herron grinned and said, ‘No, I don’t mind. If I was going to be jealous, I’d be jealous of Sinatra. After all, she called him for help and he sent you.’

  I remembered what Begelman said about Herron being homosexual. Maybe that was why he had no feelings of jealousy. I didn’t think he had any even toward Frank. He said he didn’t want to be a kept man, but did he really love Judy?

  ‘You really ain’t jealous, are you?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You must think she loves you a lot.’

  ‘She does.’

  ‘I guess that makes you pretty lucky,’ Jerry said.

  ‘I guess it does.’

  ‘What about Miss Garland?’ I let Jerry continue to do the talking.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Does that make her lucky?’

  ‘Well,’ Herron said, ‘I’d like to think so. Can I ask you something, now?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘What do you gents intend to do?’

  I took it up from there.

  ‘We intend to help Judy.’

  ‘And what if – and I’m just saying what if, now – she’s imagining things?’

  ‘Well, if that’s what I find out,’ I said, ‘then that’s what I’ll try to get her to understand. I just want to put her mind to rest.’

  ‘I don’t know if you know her well enough yet,’ he said, ‘but it’ll take more than that to put her mind to rest.’

  ‘I know the lady’s got demons,’ I said. ‘We can’t help her with that. But we can help her if we find some trouble that’s more real.’

  ‘Yes,’ Herron said, ‘yes, I suppose between the two of you, you can. You both look … quite capable.’

  Jerry and I didn’t talk until we got in the back seat of the limo.

  ‘Where to, boss?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Back to the hotel for now.’

  ‘Gotcha.’

  ‘We didn’t get much from him,’ Jerry said, as we pulled away.

  ‘No, we didn’t.’

  ‘You think Miss Garland’s imaginin’ things?’

  ‘We don’t have enough information yet to know that,’ I said.

  ‘Did you notice what I noticed back there?’ he asked.

  ‘I doubt it,’ I said. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Two people live there.’

  ‘How could you tell?’

  ‘Plates and cups, silverware,’ Jerry said, ‘an’ I could see into the bathroom. It was a mess.’
>
  ‘So you think he’s got a woman livin’ with him?’

  ‘Not the way that kitchen looked,’ Jerry said, ‘and the place needed cleanin’. Ain’t no woman livin’ there, Mr G.’

  ‘So you’re sayin’ …’

  ‘That he’s livin’ there with another man.’

  ‘So,’ I said, ‘it could be a roommate …’

  ‘Or that fella Begelman is right about him bein’ … you know … what he is.’

  TWENTY-FIVE

  When we got out of the car in front of the hotel, I told Greg to take off for a couple of hours. Then we went through the hotel lobby instead of heading straight for the bungalow.

  ‘Any messages?’ I asked at the desk.

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘OK, thanks.’

  ‘But there was someone asking about you.’

  I studied the clerk for a moment. He was the young man who had told me the same thing before. ‘Same man?’ I asked.

  ‘No, sir. A different man. Not as well dressed, or as well spoken.’

  ‘He say what he wanted?’

  ‘No, sir, but …’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I’d hate to run up against him in a dark alley.’

  I looked at Jerry, who just shrugged.

  ‘If you see the man again,’ I said to the clerk, ‘or if anyone else asks about us, call the bungalow. OK?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  I handed him ten dollars.

  ‘Yes, sir!’

  ‘Nobody’s been here,’ Jerry said, after checking around for a few minutes.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘somebody’s found us.’

  ‘Two somebodies,’ Jerry said, ‘but the second one sounds like a hitter.’

  ‘Sure, boss.’

  ‘There’s some coffee left from this mornin’,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Heat it up,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna call Judy and check in with her.’

  ‘Right.’

  I sat on the sofa and dialed Judy’s phone number. Harrington answered. ‘Harrington, it’s Eddie G.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I’d like to talk to Judy.’

  ‘I’ll get her, sir.’

  ‘Hold on. Is Boyd still in the house?’

  ‘No, sir. He had something to eat and then went outside again.’