You're nobody 'til somebody kills you rp-4

by Robert J. Randisi

  “Yeah, I’m gonna make ‘em pay,” I said, “as long as I don’t shoot myself in the foot.”

  When I came out into the waiting room Fred Otash was there, wearing jeans and a windbreaker.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Not awake, no change,” I said. “They’re sayin’ it’s not unusual.”

  “You ready to go look at some naked babes?”

  “Sure.”

  “You got that item we talked about?”

  “In the trunk.”

  “Well, let’s get it out of the trunk, and get going,” he suggested.

  Fifty-four

  We went in both cars, in case we wanted to split up. After we pulled into the parking of the neon-lit Lavender Club I joined him in his car and asked, “How good are your descriptions.”

  “Right down to a scar down the center of one of their foreheads,” Otash said. “If they’re here, we’ll spot them.”

  We got out of the car. Once again the gun felt awkward in my belt, like it was either going to fall out, or yank my pants down. I wondered aloud if I shouldn’t put it in my jacket pocket.

  “It’ll get caught when you’re trying to pull it out,” Otash said. “Also, it’ll yank down the jacket so that someone will know you’ve got something in there. Keep it in your belt.”

  I nodded my agreement.

  We went in the front door and I blinked as the sheer volume of lavender neon hit me.

  “Jesus,” Otash said, “this’ll take some getting used to.”

  He was right, it was hard to see at first, and I wondered why the management wouldn’t realize that. As we got deeper into the place, though, the neon faded. It got darker, easier to see the girls spotlit up on the stages. Most of them were already nude, it was strange how some of them looked more nude than others.

  We found two seats, sat down and ordered beer. Otash turned his attention to the stage, where a woman with very large breasts was hanging upside down from a pole.

  I was scanning the audience. The place was only about half full.

  “Fred,” I said, “we’re supposed to be lookin’ for these guys, remember? And they’re not gonna be up on stage.”

  “Give me a break,” Otash said. “I’m a busy man and I don’t get out much. I don’t live in Vegas, where this kind of thing is everywhere.”

  “It’s not everywhere,” I said. “It’s in the clubs, just like here, and sometimes up on stage.”

  “Just look for that big scar right down the center of his forehead,” Otash said. “That can’t be very common.”

  “And the guy with him?”

  “Burly, she said,” Otash answered. “With curly hair. And when she saw them they were both wearing suits and ties.”

  “Well,” I said, “if they wear suits and ties in here that’ll make ‘em stand out for sure.”

  The girl with the big tits got off the pole and was right side up, her breasts returning to their normal position.

  Otash took a deep breath and looked at me.

  “Who owns this place?” I asked. “Do you know?”

  “The owner of record is some corporation. It’s managed by a man named Sam Kearny.”

  “Do you know anything about him?”

  “No,” Otash said, “he could just be a name on a piece of paper.”

  I remembered Jack Entratter saying he was going to have someone look into who owned the place. Maybe he was able to get behind the corporate name. I’d have to call him later and find out.

  We sat there for two hours, had two more beers, watched the girls rotate in and out until the one with the really big boobs waved at Otash because she was used to seeing him there by then.

  When a new batch of girls showed, Otash leaned over to me and said, “I guess we should call it a night. We could try again tomorrow.”

  We started to get up when I grabbed his arm and pushed him back down.

  “What?”

  “Guy in a suit just came in,” I said, jerking my chin toward the door.

  The man stood bathed in purple while his eyes adjusted to the neon. He didn’t have a scar, but was burly and had curly hair, albeit closely cut.

  “He’s alone,” Otash said.

  We watched him. Eventually, he turned, walked along the front wall and entered what was probably an office. The girls had been coming in and out through a pair of swinging doors, so we didn’t think he was going backstage.

  “He belongs here,” I said.

  “Or he knows the owner.”

  “We have to get back there,” I said. “Danny may be in this building.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said. “You stay here in case I get into trouble.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I said.

  This time he put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me down.

  “That’d be too obvious. Just stay here and watch my back-but at the same time, be careful about pulling that gun.”

  “Right.”

  Jerry’s.45 felt like it weighed fifty pounds. I sat back and watched Otash mosey across the room toward that doorway. Just as he reached it the door opened and a big, broad bouncer came walking out. He spotted Otash, put out a hand that sparkled with a couple of diamond rings and laid it on Otash’s chest. They exchanged some words, and the bouncer pointed toward the front door. When we first came in I had noticed the rest-rooms, so Otash was either being shown out, or directed to the men’s room. He started that way, with the bouncer right behind him. Briefly, he caught my eye, looking helpless.

  I didn’t waste any time. I got out of my chair and quickly crossed the room to that doorway. Yanking the door open I quickly slipped inside.

  Fifty-five

  I closed the door behind me, found myself in a hallway. Voices were coming from a room at the end of the hall that was obviously an office, its door open. If anybody came out of that room, I’d be screwed. I’d have to claim I was looking for the men’s room and see what happened.

  The voices were simply a buzz. I had to get closer to hear what was being said. I wondered if the bouncer who had walked Otash out would come back and catch me from behind. I had Otash’s last word in my head, about not drawing the gun. If I’d paused to think, I probably would not have rushed across the room in the first place and through this doorway, but the decision had been made so I had to come out of it with something.

  As I crept down the hall toward the open door I passed several other doorways. I checked them quickly, hoping none of them would creak. Two closets, a bathroom, and a stairway heading down. I was tempted to go see if Danny was being held down there, but I decided to try to hear some of the conversation first. In fact, I could already hear some of it.

  As soon as the voices became clear enough I stopped.

  “In the hospital, still hasn’t woke up,” one voice said.

  “Well, he better wake up,” a second said. “They’re not gonna like it if a homicide investigation gets started.”

  “There’s already a homicide investigation, remember? Johnson?”

  “Nobody cares about Johnson, but this guy got hit in Monroe’s house. That’s news.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” the first man said.

  Apparently there were only two men in the room. I wondered if one of them had a scar down the center of his forehead. I could hear, but I couldn’t see. For that I’d have to get even closer. Most of the room was out of sight. But getting closer would put me in a totally defenseless position if someone entered the hall from the other end.

  “Where the hell is your partner?” the second man asked.

  “Still at the hospital,” the first man said. “He’s keepin’ an eye out.”

  “For what?”

  “Whatever,” the first man said. “A chance to finish the guy, news that he died, whatever.”

  “Do they know about that? Jesus, you’re gonna kill a guy in the hospital? You know, you freelancers kill me.”

  “Yeah,” the first man said, “that could be arranged.”

/>   “Very funny. Why don’t you go out and look at some of the girls? Let me get back to work.”

  “I was just checking in for orders.”

  I heard a chair creak, and then the sound of somebody walking. I turned to hotfoot it back up the hall, but at that moment the door at that end started to open. I was seconds from being discovered from both ends. Use my bathroom story, or duck behind one of those other doors?

  I made up my mind quickly, opened a door and stepped in, closing it behind me as gently as I could.

  Fifty-six

  It was dark and I almost took a header down the stairs. I caught myself at the last second, then stood there quietly as the two men met in the hallway.

  “Leavin’ already, Harris?”

  “Gonna check out some of the girls.”

  “You wanna go home with one just let me know,” the bouncer said. “I got a few of ‘em on a string.”

  Harris said, “I’m sure the feds would be happy to know they got a string of whores bein’ run out of here.”

  Both men laughed and kept going in their respective directions. I waited a few more moments, then opened the door to peer out. That was taking a chance, because I could only see one way, up the hall toward the club. I opened it a little more, stuck my head out further and looked at the office door, which the bouncer had closed behind him.

  This was my chance to get out of there, but I hesitated and looked behind me. The light from the hall illuminated the basement stairs. If there was the slightest chance that Danny was being held down there, I had to take it.

  I closed the door and stood there long enough for my eyes to adjust to the dark. Enough light came from beneath the door to allow me to see the stairs. I started down, taking my time since I had no idea how many steps there were.

  I wondered what had happened to Otash. Had he been kicked out of the place? Was he waiting for me outside? Or was he still inside?

  I kept going down the stairs one at a time, keeping my hand on the wall because there was no banister. The stairs creaked, but I didn’t think anyone upstairs could hear them.

  Finally, I got to the bottom, wishing I had a flashlight. I looked around for a light switch. I didn’t find one.

  I started swatting the air, looking for a pull string attached to a lightbulb. I found one and grabbed it.

  I looked up the steps. From my vantage point I could not see the light under the door. I wondered if anyone on the other side could see my light.

  I pulled down on the string, intending to snap the light on for a second or two, just to get a look around. As the bulb came on it bathed the room in yellow light. I always hated yellow bulbs, and this one was about forty watts. By the dim light I saw a wooden chair in the center of the room. There were some stains on the floor in front of and next to the chair. In the yellow light I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it was blood. Was it Danny’s blood? There wasn’t a lot of it, not as much as if someone had had their throat cut. But somebody had definitely been hurt.

  I realized I’d left the light on too long, so I yanked on the string-and it snapped, leaving the light on. I dropped the string onto the floor, and tried to reach the small part that was still hanging from the light, but it was too high. I thought about using the chair to stand on, but the idea that it might have some of Danny’s blood on it kept me from doing it.

  Instead, I began to look for a way out. I just hoped somebody would think they had left the light on.

  I found a door in another part of the basement. It was a loading double door, and I hoped it wasn’t locked from the outside. It wasn’t. I was able to open one side, go up the stairs, and then close the door without dropping it. The metal would have rang out loud and clear.

  I looked around quickly. I was behind the building. I worked my way around to the front and found Otash sitting in his car. When I knocked on the window he just about jumped out of his skin.

  I opened the passenger door. “Did that guy come out?”

  “Yeah. I would have followed him, but I was worried about you,” he explained. “I did get his plate number, though.”

  “Good. Let’s get out of here. I’ll meet you back at the hospital.”

  “What the hell happened-”

  “Later,” I said, getting out of his car. “The hospital.”

  “But why?” he asked. “Why don’t we go back to Miss Monroe’s, or somewhere-”

  “Otash!”

  “What?”

  “The hospital!”

  “Okay,” he said, “okay, the hospital.”

  He started his engine and backed up. I ran to my Caddy, got in, fired her up and got out of there.

  Danny had been in that basement. I felt it in my bones. But at that moment I was intent on getting back to the hospital to make sure Jerry was all right.

  Fifty-seven

  When we got to the hospital parking lot I got out of the Caddy and ran to Otash’s car.

  “Come on, we’ve got to get inside.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way!”

  While we ran into the hospital I tried to tell him what I found in the basement. He wasn’t following me, so I said, “Somebody’s going to make another try at Jerry.”

  We ran past the front desk, the nurse shouting after us. Jerry was on the second floor. Instead of waiting for the elevator I took the stairs adjacent to them. When we got to the second floor I led the way to Jerry’s room. Nobody was on duty in front of it.

  “There’s no cop on the door!” I shouted.

  I drew Jerry’s gun and ran into his room. There was a cop in uniform standing next to his bed, looking down at him. I started for him with Jerry’s gun, but Otash grabbed me from behind and pulled my gun hand behind my back as the policeman turned to look at us.

  “Can I help you gents?” he asked.

  “Yes, Officer,” Otash said, “I’m Fred Otash and this is Eddie Gianelli.”

  “Yes, sir,” the cop said, turning to face us. His hands were empty. The part of his forehead I could see beneath his cap brim was smooth and unscarred. “They told me you were allowed in the room. Is something wrong?”

  “We heard something tonight that led us to believe this man is in danger.”

  “Here? In the hospital?”

  “Yes, sir,” Otash said. “I suggest you call for backup.”

  “I’ll have to check that with my watch commander, sir.”

  “That’s okay, son,” Otash said, “and you better check with Detective Stanze, as well.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As the cop left the room, I turned so the gun was still behind me. When he was gone I returned the gun to the back of my belt.

  Otash turned on me and said, “I told you about that gun! You almost pointed it at a cop!”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I said. “And thanks for stopping me.”

  “We’ll have to stay here while he’s checking on backup,” Otash said.

  “I wonder why he was in here and not out in the hall?” I said.

  “There was no scar on his forehead,” Otash said. “But still …”

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “I want to see where he went.”

  I stayed at Jerry’s bedside until Otash returned. During that time the big guy didn’t move or make a sound. I wasn’t used to Jerry being so silent and still. It was unsettling.

  When Otash came back in he said, “The cop’s on the level. He radioed for backup and then used the phone to call Stanze.”

  “Still, what was he doin’ in here?” I asked.

  “When Stanze gets here,” Otash said, “ask him to ask the cop. Meanwhile”-he lowered his voice-”why don’t you go out to your car and stash that gun before the room is crawling with cops.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  When I left, Otash was at Jerry’s bedside while the cop had returned to the door.

  Stanze made good time, arrived just before the extra officers did.


  “What’s going on, Eddie?” he demanded.

  “I have information that someone might try for Jerry again while he’s in the hospital.”

  “And where did you get this information?”

  “I’d rather not say, but I’m sure what I heard was legit.”

  “So you’re asking me to act on information you overheard somewhere?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m askin’ you to do.”

  Stanze shook his head slowly. “You’re pushing it, Eddie.”

  “I haven’t even started,” I said.

  I told him about finding the cop in Jerry’s room, and wondering what he was doing there.

  “I’ll ask him,” he said, “but I’ve known Officer Chester for five years. He’s legit.”

  “Okay,” I said, “if you vouch for him, that’s okay with me.”

  Stanze hesitated, then said, “I’ll ask him anyway.”

  Fifty-eight

  Stanze had a half a dozen officers search the hospital for a man with a scar on his forehead. Then he sat me down and convinced me to tell him what I had done. I told him about the matchbook cover, the strip club, the conversation I had heard in the back office, and what I’d seen in the basement.

  “You know, your PI should’ve told you to come to me with the matchbook,” Stanze said. “We might have been able to do something. As of now I can’t get a warrant to go into that strip club. I have no probable cause.”

  “Isn’t what I’m tellin’ you probable cause?” I asked.

  “No, it’s not enough to move on,” Stanze told me. “All I can do is watch the strip club.”

  “Well, if Danny was there and they moved him, what are the chances they’ll bring him back?”

  “Probably slim.”

  “So then what good does it do for you to watch the place?”

  “It’s all you’ve left me,” Stanze said. “I’ll check out who owns it, and who runs it, but beyond that …”

  “What about talkin’ to the maid?”

  “I can do that, but for all we know she gave Otash a random matchbook and a line of crap for his twenty bucks.”