I'm a fool to kill you rp-5

by Robert Randisi

  ‘I thought I could get the Sands to pay for it all,’ I offered.

  She slapped me on the arm and said, ‘No, don’t ruin my fun. Paying is part of it.’ She looked at Jerry. ‘Are you going to ruin all my fun?’

  ‘No, Ma’am.’

  ‘Then step aside.’

  We both moved and allowed her to pay cash for everything. She even carried the bags.

  The male clerk looked at us and said, ‘You fellas notice how much she looks like Ava Gardner?’

  ‘What?’ Jerry said.

  ‘Not so much,’ I said, and we followed her out.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  We drove the cab back to Ava’s street, still parking down the block.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘I know a back way.’

  We had to help her over a couple of fences, but she managed to get us to the back door of her house.

  She used her key and unlocked the door, and we entered through a large kitchen. She reached for the light switch but I grabbed her hand.

  ‘No lights,’ I said, ‘just in case.’

  ‘How are we going to see where we’re going?’ she asked.

  It was dark outside, and darker still inside, but I was starting to make out shapes.

  ‘Just wait a few moments and your eyes will adjust,’ I said. ‘Jerry, why don’t you go and have a look out the front window?’

  ‘Sure thing, Mr G.’

  As Jerry made his way through the house to the front, Ava pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down.

  ‘Ava, is there any chance you were back in this house during those forty hours?’

  ‘I suppose there’s a chance,’ she said.

  ‘Have a look around,’ I said.

  ‘What am I looking for?’

  ‘Anything you might have left here during that time,’ I said. ‘Or maybe something you took? Anything that’ll help figure this out.’

  ‘In the dark?’

  ‘If you have a flashlight in the house you can use that, but we wanna keep the lights off. OK?’

  ‘OK,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘Is it all right if I pack a few extra things? This bag is just something I threw together in a hurry. And I’ve got to find some cigarettes somewhere. I’m all out.’

  ‘Pack whatever you want,’ I said. ‘We don’t know how long you’ll be gone.’

  ‘Oh God. .’ she said.

  ‘It’ll just be long enough to make sure you’re safe.’

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Can I take a bath?’

  ‘Why not? We’ll be here all night. In the morning we can get a car.’

  ‘You’re not going to leave me here alone, are you?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘we’ll all go get the car.’

  She got up from the chair.

  ‘Any chance there’s some food in the fridge? Jerry’s gonna get hungry.’

  ‘There won’t be much,’ she said. ‘Can you cook?’

  ‘Not much,’ I said, ‘but Jerry’s a whiz in the kitchen.’

  She laughed.

  ‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’

  While Ava was taking a bath I took a walk around downstairs. Everything was neat and clean, probably thanks to a maid. I wondered if she kept coming in while Ava was gone?

  Jerry said there was nobody out front that he could see.

  ‘They’re gonna hafta pee,’ he’d told me once, ‘or hafta smoke eventually. And even if they’re peeing in a bottle, you can watch for the flare of a match, or the glowing tip of a cigarette.’

  So when Jerry told me nobody was there, I believed him.

  ‘If we stay toward the back of the house, just in case, ‘I said, ‘we should go unseen. That means the kitchen, the diningroom, and back bedrooms.’

  Ava had told me that her bedroom and master bath were in the back.

  Jerry went through the fridge and the cupboard.

  ‘There’s fuck all here ta cook, Mr G. I could make an omelet, but not one big enough for the three of us.’

  I could hear Jerry’s stomach grumbling, and mine was close.

  ‘I saw some places on the way here,’ he said. ‘In fact, there’s a deli about two blocks away.’

  ‘You remember how to get there?’ I asked, unnecessarily. When it came to restaurants, Jerry had a phenomenal memory.

  ‘Sure I do.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Go back through the yards to the cab and pick up some food.’

  I reached into my pocket and he said, ‘I got dough, Mr G.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘this one’s on you. I’ll get the next one.’

  ‘OK.’ He headed for the back door.

  ‘Hey, Jerry.’

  ‘Yeah, Mr G.?’

  ‘Did I remember to thank you for comin’ out here like this?’

  ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘when Mr S. told me you needed help, I dropped everythin’ I was doin’ and hopped the first flight. Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘In any case, thanks, big buy.’

  ‘’Course, I wasn’t doin’ much of anythin’, anyway. .’ he added.

  ‘Fuck you. .’

  He was laughing and shaking his head when he went out the door.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Ava asked.

  I watched her walk into the room fresh from the bath. She was wearing a simple terrycloth robe this time, and was vigorously drying her hair with a towel. She wore no make-up, and was still the sexiest, most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life — and remember, I live and work in Vegas. There wasn’t a showgirl I knew who could hold a candle to Ava Gardner straight from a bath.

  ‘Jerry went to get some food.’

  ‘What’s he getting?’

  ‘Deli.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ she said. ‘I love those big pickles. I hope he brings some.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘he’ll come back with a little bit of everything, if I know him.’

  ‘There’s some booze in the house,’ she said. ‘Do you want a drink?’

  ‘No. I want to stay alert.’

  ‘Do you mind if I have one?’

  ‘Go ahead, but remember,’ I said, ‘no lights, and stay away from the windows.’

  ‘Luckily,’ she said, ‘I know where everything is. I could get around this house with my eyes closed.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  She turned and left the kitchen. A moment later I heard her walk into something and snap, ‘Ouch! Fuck!’

  I shook my head, got myself as glass of water from the tap. I knew I could count on Big Jerry to come back with coffee.

  THIRTY-SIX

  When Jerry got back he had half-a-dozen brown bags with him. Ava had found a flashlight in the house, a pretty good one, so we set it on the table and started emptying bags. There were sandwiches, knishes, fries, potato salad, pickles, containers of coffee and a few cans of Dr Brown’s soda, which I hadn’t seen since I left New York.

  ‘Wouldja believe it?’ he asked. ‘I found a Jewish deli in L.A. that sells Dr Brown’s.’ He was ecstatic. He’d brought Cream, Black Cherry and Cel-ray.

  ‘What’s this?’ Ava asked, picking up a bottle of the Cel-ray.

  ‘Celery flavored soda,’ I said, ‘from New York.’

  ‘Yuch.’ She was still working on the large highball she’d built.

  Jerry got some plates from the cupboard — he already knew where everything was — and set them out, and we doled out the food.

  The sandwiches were pastrami or brisket, and we managed almost equally to divide up the food: half for Jerry, and half for me and Ava.

  ‘Oh, I can see hanging around with you two characters is going to have a real effect on my figure.’

  ‘Nothin’ wrong with your figure that I can see, Miss Ava,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Thank you, Jerry,’ she said. ‘You’re very sweet.’

  After we ate we finished our coffee and played some three-handed gin at the kitchen table by flashlight until Ava’s eyelids started to droop.

  ‘That’s it for me, boys,’ she said. ‘I�
�ve got to get some sleep. You figure out how much you both owe me and let me know tomorrow.’

  She stood up, walked to the doorway, then turned and looked over her shoulder at us.

  ‘Pick any bedroom you want,’ she said.

  ‘One of us will be up all night, Ava,’ I said. ‘In case you hear something, or want something.’

  ‘I feel safer already,’ she said, ‘but I hope you guys are better at bodyguarding than you are at cards.’

  When she left the room Jerry said, ‘Hey, Mr G., you notice how much she’s like that broad she plays in Mogambo?’

  ‘Honey Bear.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s her,’ he said. ‘Geez, I can see why Mr S. is so gone on her.’

  ‘You wanna keep playin’ for a while, Jerry?’ I asked. ‘Maybe one of us can get back some of what we lost to her.’

  ‘Sure, why not?’

  Playing Jerry heads up wasn’t such a good idea. Not only did I lose but he frustrated me. He didn’t play well — at least he didn’t play the way I was taught. He seemed to pick up cards only to discard them a few rounds later. He fed me two cards in a row, didn’t seem to make any attempt to remember what he gave me, and in the end he won anyway.

  He had me shaking my head.

  ‘You play this game a lot, Mr G.?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve been playing cards since I was a kid, Jerry,’ I said.

  ‘You ain’t doin’ so hot.’

  ‘You ain’t playin’ right,’ I said.

  He shuffled the cards and muttered, ‘Yeah, but I’m winnin’.’

  ‘Just shut up and deal.’

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Later, while we were still playing, Jerry said, ‘Funny thing.’

  ‘What’s funny?’

  Jerry looked up from his cards. Before answering he discarded an Ace he had just picked up two rounds before. I shook my head.

  ‘You and me, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘The way we stumble on bodies.’

  He looked and sounded like he was reminiscing fondly about his past.

  ‘That’s not something I think about, Jerry,’ I said. ‘Not something I look forward to either.’

  ‘Oh, no, I didn’t mean that,’ he said. ‘I just meant it’s like. . something chemical. You and me end up in the same place, and bodies start to show up.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope this body’s got nothin’ to do with us,’ I said. ‘Maybe the manager pissed off some other guest.’

  ‘I wonder if Miss Ava has a radio around here someplace,’ he said. ‘Or we could turn on the TV, see if there’s anything on the news.’

  ‘There’s a television in the living room, but it would throw shadows,’ I said. ‘But a radio is not a bad idea.’

  ‘It’s only taken me a couple of years to get you thinkin’ like a criminal.’

  I didn’t know what to say to that. We finished the hands — he made gin — I tallied up what I owed him and then we looked for a radio. We didn’t have to look far. There was one on a shelf in the kitchen. It was plugged in so we turned it on, found a news station, and kept the volume low. We were back to playing gin when the first mention came on.

  It said the body of the manger of the Beverly Hills Hotel was found in his office. The cause of death was as yet unknown, but the man was believed to have been murdered. A witness — a desk clerk — had described two men who were looking for the manager, and were believed to be the last to see him alive. They described us as two white males, one six feet tall and the other six and a half. Thankfully, there was no mention of Ava Gardner or ‘Lucy Johnson.’

  In a possibly related story — it went on — a cab driver had been beaten up outside the Beverly Hills Hotel the night before and was in the hospital. The police are investigating the possibility of a connection.

  ‘Hey, at least your buddy Larry’s got an alibi,’ Jerry said.

  ‘It’s a good thing we have a safe place to go to rent a car tomorrow,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe I shouldn’t go in with you,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There are lots of fellas six feet tall,’ he said ‘but six and a half?’

  He was right. Louie the dispatcher and his brother might not have minded helping me because Larry said so, but if Jerry came along and they’d been listening to the news they might not be so helpful. As it was, the mention of Larry being beaten up in connection with the manager’s murder might cause a problem. But I wouldn’t know that until I got to the car lot the next morning.

  ‘I could steal a car, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘Ain’t done it since I was a kid, so I’d be a little rusty, but-’

  ‘No, no,’ I said, ‘forget that. I don’t want you gettin’ pinched for stealing a car.’

  ‘What about Miss Ava?’ he asked.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She must have a car, maybe two. Them Hollywood types always got more than one.’

  ‘Hey,’ I said, ‘there is a garage out back, isn’t there?’

  He smiled, nodded and said, ‘A two-car garage.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she have mentioned that when we started talkin’ about renting a car?’ I wondered.

  ‘She ain’t used to takin’ it on the lam, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘Could be she just didn’t think of it.’

  ‘Why don’t we take a look?’

  ‘Let’s finish this hand,’ he suggested.

  We did.

  He made gin.

  ‘I’m not playin’ with you anymore,’ I said, throwing down my cards.

  It didn’t work out.

  We went to the garage, entered through an open side door. We took the flashlight with us, and by its light saw that Ava had two roadsters — two seaters, both of them.

  ‘We could take both of ’em,’ Jerry said, hopefully. ‘I drive one, you drive the other.’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘we’ll stick to the original plan. We’ll go rent a car from Louie’s brother in the morning.’

  Jerry shined the flashlight over the cars again, gave them a long, loving look, and then followed me back to the house.

  ‘You tired?’ I asked.

  ‘Naw,’ he said, ‘I got first watch. I’m gonna eat some leftovers.’

  ‘They’re all yours,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna lie down on that big sofa in the living room.’

  ‘Don’t wanna sleep in one of the beds?’

  ‘I don’t want to get too comfortable,’ I said. ‘Wake me in three hours.’

  ‘Not four?’

  ‘I wanna shower and change into some fresh clothes, then I’ll take watch and you can sleep till morning.’

  ‘I gotta sleep on the sofa, too?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘it’s not big enough. You can take a bed.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr G.’

  He grabbed the leftover deli sandwiches from the frig.

  ‘Enjoy,’ I said, and went to lie down. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I hit the sofa.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Surprising what living in a town that never sleeps can do for you. I’d learned a long time ago to get by on naps. After three hours on that sofa, a shower in the second bathroom, and a change of clothes, I felt refreshed.

  I sent Jerry to bed in one of the bedrooms, told him I’d wake him at eight a.m. That was four hours. He told me he’d made a pot of coffee, and left me a sandwich. I was surprised to find I was hungry.

  I went to the kitchen, unwrapped the sandwich — brisket on a Kaiser roll — and started eating. Poured myself a cup of coffee and carried both into the living room with me. I took a peek out the front window, didn’t see anything.

  I sat on the sofa with my sandwich and coffee and went through my options. I could have sent Jerry and Ava to Vegas in one of the roadsters, but I really didn’t know what I’d do in L.A. I wasn’t a detective. I was a pit boss who was also a fixer. But most of my fixing was done in Vegas, which was my backyard. So we’d all go to Vegas, make sure Ava was safe, and then figure out what to do.

  As it turned out I really only had
one option. Get a car, get to Vegas.

  I finished the sandwich, went to the kitchen to refill my coffee cup. I don’t know how Jerry did it, but he made the best damn coffee I’d ever tasted.

  I turned the radio on. There were no more reports about the manager’s death. I turned it off. I thought about watching TV, but I was the one who had mentioned the shadows that could be seen from outside.

  After about two hours I got hungry again. Jerry was a bad influence on me. I looked in the refrigerator and found a knish. I wondered if Jerry had been saving it for breakfast. I ate it cold. I figured if he got upset I’d make it up to him. We’d go out for breakfast after we picked up a car.

  I took out the card Louie had given me. It read: USED CARS and at the bottom had an address and phone number. On the back Louie had written ‘Freddy.’ That was it. From Louie’s body language I assumed that everything Freddy did at his car lot was not on the up-and-up. That was fine with me. It would work to our advantage if nobody asked any questions.

  I sat at the kitchen table and played solitaire by the light of the flashlight.

  At seven-thirty a.m. Ava came down. She was once again wearing her terrycloth robe. She ran her hands through her hair as she entered the room.

  ‘How old is that coffee?’ she asked.

  ‘Almost four hours.’

  ‘Good enough.’

  She waved me away as I started to get up, got a cup and poured herself some coffee. Then she joined me at the table. She smelled great.

  ‘Jerry’s sleeping peacefully,’ she said. ‘I passed his room.’

  ‘I’m gonna wake him at eight,’ I said. ‘I was gonna wake you at the same time.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘You guys get dressed, we go and rent a car and head for Vegas.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Once I’m sure you’re safe,’ I said, ‘I’ll try to find out what happened during those missing forty hours.’

  ‘How are you going to do that?’ she asked. ‘Are you a detective?’

  ‘No, but I have a friend who is. He’s a private eye named Danny Bardini, lives and works in Vegas. I’ll put him on it. If anybody can find out what happened, it’s him.’