“Jerry?” I called, entering the main house.
No answer.
“Crap.” If he went missing like Danny … but he wasn’t, so I didn’t have to finish that thought. Instead, I had some new thoughts. When I entered the kitchen and saw him spread out on the floor, blood pooled around him, I feared the big guy was dead.
Fred Otash made good time, which meant he got there while the ambulance crew was still loading Jerry into the back.
“What happened?” he asked, coming up on me.
“He went into the main house and walked into somethin’,” I said. “I don’t know what happened because he’s not conscious, but at least he’s alive.”
“That’s good, that he’s alive, but what’s the diagnosis?”
“They have to get him to the hospital and see how bad the head injury is.”
“What was he-”
“Look, can we talk on the way?” I said, cutting him off. “They won’t let me ride in the ambulance with him, but I’m going to the hospital.”
“Okay, I’ll drive,” Otash said, “and I’ll bring you back.”
“No, I got a better idea. I’ll drive myself. You go into the house and see what you can find. Figure somethin’ out, Fred. Do your job.”
Before he could respond I trotted over to the Caddy and got it started. He was still standing in the drive when I backed out and took off after the ambulance.
Fifty-one
The closest hospital was in Antioch; it only took the ambulance seven minutes to get Jerry there. I was impressed. By the time I parked and got inside he was already in emergency.
“You’ll have to wait out here, sir,” a nurse told me, pointing to a waiting room.
I went and sat for ten minutes before I got up and found a phone. I called Dean’s number in Beverly Hills. Jeannie said he was in New York but asked me what I needed. When I told her that Jerry was in the hospital she said she’d call their doctor and have him come right over there.
“I know Dean would want to help, Eddie,” she said.
“Thanks, Jeannie.”
I was still in the waiting room when Dean’s doctor came walking in. I didn’t know him, but somehow he picked me out.
“I’ll get in there and see what’s going on,” he promised. “Sit tight.”
I figured I had done everything I could, so I did just that.
Fred Otash showed up about an hour after Jerry had been brought in.
“How is he?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “They’re workin’ on him. I called Dean Martin and Jeannie sent over their doctor.”
Otash sat next to me.
“What’d you find out?”
“Not much,” he admitted. “Looks to me like Jerry must have had his head in the refrigerator when somebody came up behind and hit him.”
“That’s about the only way somebody would’ve been able to take him.”
“Before I left, Detective Stanze arrived at the house,” he told me. “He’ll be in here soon.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
Otash fell silent, but sat with me.
Twenty minutes after Otash arrived, Stanze walked in.
“How is he?” he asked.
“We’re still waitin’,” I said.
“Looks like somebody jimmied the back door more than once,” Stanze said. “They must’ve been in there when Jerry came in. First he surprised them, then they surprised him. There was a lot of blood, but that’s what happens with head wounds.”
Stanze sat on the other side of me.
“What were you guys doing?” he asked.
“Fred had called and said, he was comin’ over,” I explained. “Jerry went into the main house to find some coffee. When he didn’t come back I went lookin’ for him, found him out cold on the floor.”
“That’s it?” Stanze asked.
“That’s it, Detective,” I said. “We weren’t doin’ anythin’ but tryin’ to make coffee.”
Stanze nodded.
“You don’t mind I’ll stick around a while.”
“I don’t mind.”
At that point his partner walked in with two bags filled with coffee containers.
“I didn’t know who’d be here,” he said, handing them out.
“Can’t have too much coffee,” Otash said.
Bailey nodded, sat down across from us, and put the other bag of coffees on the table next to him.
“You don’t mind I’ll stay a while,” he said to me. “I kinda like the big lug.”
“Sure.”
We sat quietly and drank our coffee.
The emergency room doctor came out with Dean’s doctor in tow an hour and a half after they brought Jerry in.
“He’s got a hard head,” he said. “He has a hairline fracture of the skull, and we had to drain some blood to take pressure off his brain.”
“How do you do that?” I asked.
“We had to drill a hole in the skull to drain the blood out,” the doctor said.
I heard a sharp intake of breath from somebody, probably Bailey.
“He has a fracture and you had to drill a hole?” I asked.
“That’s right.”
“How is he?”
“He’s unconscious, but we’re very optimistic.”
“And what’s that mean?”
“It means most people wake up within hours of an injury like this,” the doctor said. “Some wake up … later.”
“How much later?”
“Depends. Days, week, months …”
“Years?”
“Sometimes.”
“Never?” I asked. “Is there a chance he might never wake up?”
“There’s always that chance,” the doctor said. “We should know more later tonight, or tomorrow.”
“Doctor,” Stanze said, showing his ID, “did he ever say a word? Anything?”
“Nothing,” the doctor said.
Dean’s doctor looked at me and said, “They’ve done all they can.”
“Yeah,” I said to both doctors, “thanks.”
“Leave your information with the front desk,” the emergency room doctor said, “including a number where we can get ahold of you.”
“Yeah, okay.”
The doctor turned and left.
“Eddie, we’ll be back in the morning to see if he’s awake and can make a statement,” Stanze said.
“How about putting a man on his door, Stanze?” I asked. “I mean, somebody did try to kill him.”
“Well, we don’t know that for sure-the intent, I mean, but you’re right. I’ll put a uniform on his door.”
“Okay, thanks. Give them my name and description, will you? I’ll be comin’ back.”
“Yeah, I’ll leave orders nobody gets in but you or Otash.”
Bailey grabbed the bag of extra coffee. “You want me to leave these?”
“We’re going to go out for coffee and something to eat,” Otash said.
Bailey nodded.
He and Stanze left.
“Come on, Eddie,” Otash said. “Let’s leave your info and then go.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “okay.”
At the desk they took my number, and when I asked about making payment they said that Dean Martin’s wife had called and all bills were to be sent to them.
“Your friend has friends in high places,” the nurse said, smiling.
“Yeah,” I said, “he does.”
Otash took me by the arm. “Come on, Eddie.”
I let him guide me outside.
Fifty-two
We found a diner a few blocks away, pulled over and parked both cars. Inside the greasy smell of the place awakened the hunger in me. I kept thinking Jerry would want me to eat.
“You’re probably used to better places to eat in Vegas,” Otash said. “To tell you the truth I’m used to better, too, but every once in a while I just want some greasy diner food.”
We sat in
a cracked red-leather booth. A tired waitress came over and gave us menus.
“Bring me a beer,” I told her.
“I’ll have one, too,” Otash said.
“Comin’ up.”
When she came back with two glasses of beer I ordered chicken in a basket and Otash ordered a burger platter.
“I’m sure Jerry’ll be all right, Eddie,” he said.
“He’s got a hard head,” I said. “He’ll be okay. You know, I’ve seen him maybe four times in the past two years, and the big lug is probably one of the best friends I’ve got. Him and Danny. Whoever’s behind this, they’ve done damage to my two best friends, and it’s because they were both tryin’ to help me.”
“No point in feeling guilty about it,” Otash said. “The best thing to do is find out who’s behind it and make them pay.”
“We’ve got to find Danny,” I said. “Have you checked all the hospitals in town?”
“Hospitals, morgues, I’ve checked all the drunk tanks and jails in a hundred-mile radius. No sign of him.”
“Then he’s alive, unless he’s out in the Pacific somewhere, weighed down.”
“Look,” Otash said, “I was coming over to discuss something with you. Are you prepared to listen? Or do you want to feel sorry for yourself all night?”
For a split second I felt a flash of anger and wanted to go over the table at him, but then it faded.
“I’m ready,” I said.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. For a minute there I thought you were going to jump me.”
“For a minute there,” I said, “so did I.”
Our meals came and we both ate as if we hadn’t eaten for days. I could still see my friend, Jerry, on the floor covered in blood, and yet I was ravenous. What did that say about me?
“Okay, Fred,” I said, “what did you want to talk to us about?”
“I went back to that motel, talked to everybody-the owner, the front-desk clerks, and the maids.”
“And none of them remembered Danny, right?”
“Wrong,” he said. “One maid not only remembered Danny, she remembered letting you into his room.”
“That’s right,” I said, “she dickered with me and let me in for a sawbuck, I think.”
“Well, for a double sawbuck she told me that Danny had been there for one day and one night before he disappeared. She said they got his stuff out of there before the owner even knew he’d checked in. And she said she knew from the start that there was something fishy about that clerk, Johnson. When I told her he was dead, she didn’t bat an eyelash.”
“So what’s it all mean?” I asked. “Did she give you anything helpful?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A matchbook.”
“A what?”
“She cleaned Danny’s room after he disappeared. She kept everything.”
“Why?”
“She said she figured the way he vanished somebody would come looking for him.”
“So why didn’t she offer me the matchbook?”
“She said she would have, if you’d come back,” Otash said. “She was afraid you’d try to get it for the same sawbuck. She wanted you to come back and offer her more money.”
“So where’s the matchbook?”
Otash took it out of his pocket and set it down on the table. The cover had garish purple and yellow letters spelling out: THE LAVENDER ROOM.
“Strip club? Dance club?” I asked. “What?”
“I checked,” Otash said. “It’s a strip club-or gentlemen’s club. Whatever you call it, it has naked women.”
“So you think Danny left it behind?”
“I asked her what else was in the wastebasket and she said candy wrappers, chip bags, things from a vending machine and some soda cans he probably got from a convenience store down the road.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “The candy was Hershey’s bars, the chips barbecue, and the soda cans Dr Pepper.”
Otash took out his notebook, turned to the right page and read his notes. “You’re right.”
“That’s Danny.”
I knew how Danny liked to raid vending machines when he was in hotels or motels. He ate the stuff not only in the room, but when he was on a stakeout. And Hershey’s were his favorite.
“So his clothes weren’t left behind and stored by the motel?”
“No,” Otash said, “personal things were gone.”
“Did she see who took Danny? Or who took his things?” I asked.
“She saw two men come and clean the motel room out.”
“Did she describe them?”
“Well enough. She’s very observant. A burly, curly-haired guy and a man with a scar on his forehead.”
“So she just saw them clean the room out, right? Didn’t see them take Danny?”
“No, he wasn’t taken from the motel.”
“Maybe he went to this club and was taken from there.”
“That’s what I think,” Otash said. “I’m going to check it out tonight.”
“We’re gonna check it out tonight,” I said. “I’m goin’ with you.”
“I thought you might say that.”
“Don’t argue with me.”
“I won’t,” he said. “I’m going to change my clothes. I’ll stand out like a sore thumb in this suit. I’ll stop by here and pick you up.”
“Come to the hospital,” I said. “I’ll be there, waiting to hear something about Jerry.”
“Okay,” Otash said. “Do you have a gun?”
“Jerry’s is in the guesthouse,” I said.
“Have you ever used one?”
“Yeah, in the army. A forty-five, like Jerry’s.”
“Considering what’s been going on, you better bring it.”
“It’s gonna be bad news if the cops catch me with it,” I pointed out.
“It might be even worse news,” Otash said, “if we run into trouble and you get caught without it.”
“Okay, but I won’t carry it into the hospital. I’ll put it in the trunk, where Jerry stashes it.”
“Good,” Otash said. “We can pick it up before we go to the Lavender Room.”
“This may be a silly question, but you’ll have a gun, too, right?”
He nodded. “My thirty-eight.”
“Good,” I said. “We’d be in trouble if I was the only one armed.”
Fifty-three
I went back to the guesthouse after cleaning the kitchen floor in the main house. I didn’t want Marilyn finding blood all over the kitchen. That would really do a number on her.
I showered, changed and got Jerry’s gun from where I’d left it in a kitchen drawer. When the cops had been called, after I’d found Jerry, I’d removed his gun so they wouldn’t see it and keep it.
Cops, I thought. Stanze and Bailey had me confused. They had seemed genuinely concerned about Jerry at the hospital. Were they still running a game on us, or had they never been running a game at all? Dealing with that prick Hargrove in Las Vegas had given me a bad opinion of detectives.
I was about to leave for the hospital-Jerry’s gun uncomfortably in my belt-when I realized I hadn’t talked to Jack Entratter in a while. He was going to be pissed that I hadn’t called him.
I didn’t really want to deal with him at this point, but better to make contact and get it over with than to let any more time go by.
I dialed Jack’s number, got past his girl and listened for a few minutes while he chewed me out for not staying in touch.
“Okay,” he said, sounding spent, “now that I got that out of the way, what’s goin’ on?”
I gave him the whole story, tossing in Frank’s and Dean’s names liberally. As long as he thought I was working for or with his buddies, he wouldn’t bitch too much about my absence. When I got to the part about not having found Danny yet, and Jerry being in the hospital, he commiserated.
“I’m sorry about your friends, Eddie, but it doesn’t sound like you’ve g
otten anywhere since you went to L.A.”
“No, but that may change.” I told him about the matchbook cover.
“I’m gonna check on the Lavender Club, see if we know who’s runnin’ it,” he said. I knew who he meant when he said “we.” I didn’t bother saying I thought Otash could handle that. Instead I just said thanks, and told him I’d stay in touch.
“Call me if you need anything,” he said, “like your ass bailed out.”
“Thanks, Jack.”
I hung up and went out to the Caddy. I opened the trunk, took the gun from my belt and stuck it in the wheel well, where Jerry had put it before. I was fine as long as the cops didn’t search my car.
I closed the trunk and drove to the hospital.
“He’s not awake yet,” the doctor said. He was the emergency room doctor who had worked on Jerry. I hadn’t noticed much about him earlier, but now saw that he was young, probably in his early thirties. He had an air of both confidence and competence about him.
“I warned you,” he went on, “so far we’re not looking at this as anything unusual.”
“I understand,” I said. “I was just hopin’. Where is he?”
“We’ve put him in a room.”
“A private room?”
“Yes,” he said, “apparently Mrs. Dean Martin insisted on that.”
“Good. Can I see him?”
“He won’t know you’re there.”
“I know, I just want to see him.”
“Sure.”
The doctor walked me to the room and left me there. I nodded to the cop guarding the door as I went in. Jerry was a big lump on the bed, his head swathed in bandages. He looked pale, but while most people looked frail in hospital beds, he still looked healthy and burly.
I walked up closer to the bed and looked down at him.
“Sorry, big guy,” I said. “You took the brunt of it, this time. I’m gonna find out who clobbered you and make ‘em pay. You can count on it.”
He didn’t blink.
I leaned closer and lowered my voice.
“Oh yeah, I’m gonna borrow your forty-five,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
I could almost hear him thinkin’, Hell no, Mr. G. Go ahead. Just don’t lose it.
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