“Sure.”
As she left the other two agents and Jerry lifted their glasses.
“I need to know what you and Mr. Epstein were doing out at that barn, Gianelli,” Sloane said.
I picked up my beer meaning to sip it, but it was so good I ended up taking several long gulps before setting it down.
“You said you heard somebody was making a buy,” I countered. “What kind of buy?”
“We’re not going to get anywhere if we each keep asking questions and nobody answers,” he said.
“Agreed.”
We stared at each other and I wondered if he was going to pull rank.
“All right,” he said. “You answer a question, and then I will.”
Jerry and the other two agents were watching us, intrigued, waiting for the next move.
“Okay, we were out there scouting the area because we are supposed to have a meeting tonight to make a buy.”
“And what are you buying?”
“Photographs,” I said. “That is, negatives for a roll of photos.”
“An entire roll?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“There’s at least one photo on that roll that somebody thinks is worth fifty thousand dollars.”
“Fifty thousand?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re going to pay somebody fifty thousand dollars for one photo?”
“The problem is, we don’t know which one,” I said. “That’s why we need the whole roll.”
“Where’s your buy money?” Sloane asked.
“In a safe place.”
Suddenly, I wanted to take another look at their IDs. I just had a bad feeling.
Byers and Simpson started to laugh.
“Fifty thousand …” Byers said, shaking his head.
“What’s funny about that?” I asked.
“Mr. Gianelli,” Sloane said, “you’ll be interested to know we are also here to buy a photograph-only we’re paying half a million bucks.”
Forty-six
“Half a million?” I asked, after picking my jaw up off the table. To his credit Jerry didn’t flinch.
“Not a lot of money, considering where we are, is it?” Sloane asked.
“Half a million dollars is a lot of scratch no matter where you are,” I said. “Are you thinkin’ you’re makin’ your buy from the same people we’re makin’ ours from?”
“How many rolls of film can there be?” he asked. “Are you after the roll, or a particular photo?”
“One photo,” he said, “but we’ll buy the whole roll to get it.”
“So why would these people want fifty thousand dollars from one man when they’re gettin’ half a million from … who? The President?”
“Who’s your principal, Gianelli?”
“I think that’s a question I won’t answer, Agent Sloane.”
“Same here.”
“So when was your meet set for?” I asked.
“We’re staying at a small hotel just outside of town,” he said. “They’ll contact us there.”
“Well, our meet is set for tomorrow morning,” I said.
“What were you doing out there today?”
“Scouting it,” I said. “Jerry, here, is supposed to be my backup. We were lookin’ for a place for him to set himself.”
“I see.”
“Are you going to let us make our buy?”
Byers and Simpson finished their beers and stared at Sloane.
“What time’s your meet?”
“Ten A.M.”
“When is Jerry going out there?”
“Seven.”
“Maybe,” Sloane said, “we should let Agent Byers go out with him.”
“Is that the only way we get to complete our transaction?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Jerry and Byers can meet out in front of Harrah’s.”
“Fine,” Sloane said. “Then Agent Simpson and I will meet you at, say, nine? Same place?”
“Sure,” I said. “Out front. Jerry and Byers can use our car, and we’ll use yours.”
Sloane drank half his beer and set it down. The three men stood up. “We’ll see you gents in the morning, then.”
“Not going to do any gambling while you’re here?” I asked.
“We’ll do plenty tomorrow,” Sloane said, “with our lives. What about you two? Where will you be spending the night?”
“Hey, this is Reno, baby,” I said. “It’s open all night. We’ll be fine.”
They started to leave and Jerry said, “Ain’t you forgot somethin’?”
Sloane turned and looked at him.
“Like what?”
“My piece.”
Sloane smiled.
“Oh, yeah.”
He took it from his belt, passed it over, then headed for the door. Byers and Simpson waved and followed Sloane out of the lounge. “They didn’t ask enough questions,” Jerry said. “I know.”
“I don’t think they’re Feds,” Jerry said.
“Maybe not. That’s why I told them our meet was tomorrow,” I said.
“Why do you think they’re here?”
“It sure isn’t to pay anybody half a million dollars,” I said. “I wouldn’t trust them with that much money.”
“What if the money man was comin’ later?”
“What if they are from Washington,” I said. “Not exactly Feds, but …”
“What are you sayin’?”
“I’m thinking out loud,” I said, “and if I’m gonna keep on doin’ it we need two more beers.”
I waved to the waitress. When she had us set up I started to talk. I was trying it out on Jerry, and on myself, out loud.
“I’m thinkin’ about the first dead guy in the warehouse, Jerry. What if he wasn’t killed by one of his partners? What if somebody met him to make a buy and killed him instead?”
“These guys?”
“Why not?”
“And you think they’re here to kill somebody else?” Jerry asked.
“If there’s a picture that’s worth a half a million bucks, then there’d be a picture worth killing for. I see two scenarios. One, these guys are lookin’ for the picture for themselves.”
“And two?”
“They were sent to make a buy, but what they really want to do is get the picture and kill everyone and anyone who saw it.”
“From Washington?” Jerry said. “You mean you think JFK sent these guys out to kill instead of buy?”
“Maybe not Jack,” I said, “maybe Bobby. He’d do anythin’ to protect his brother.”
“So Mr. Davis got a photo of JFK doin’ somethin’ he’s not supposed to be doin’, with somebody he ain’t supposed to be doin’ it with.”
“You know, I actually followed that.”
“So how do we find out?”
“Today we make some calls, and tonight we go to the meet. Maybe we can convince the seller of Sammy’s picture to come clean by tellin’ them all of this. We can’t forget that our part in all this is to get Sammy his picture back.”
“So who we callin’?”
“Somebody who can answer a few questions about the Kennedy clan.”
“Mr. S.?”
“No,” I said, “Peter Lawford.”
“That guy?” Jerry made a face. “Why would he talk to you?”
“Because Sammy’s gonna ask him to,” I said, “and they’re buddies.”
“Wait a minute, Mr. G.,” Jerry said. “What happens to us if we see that picture?”
“One thing at a time, Jerry,” I said, “one thing at a time.”
Forty-seven
We went back to the room and I called Sammy in Tahoe.
“You’re a cool cat, you know that, Eddie?” Sammy said when I was done. “You were lookin’ to keep me out of the loop, weren’t you?”
“For your own good, Sam.”
“So what’s changed, man?” Sammy asked. “Why the c
all now?”
“I’ve got a theory,” I said. “About my pictures?”
“Yup.”
“Do I get to hear it?”
“Only because I need to talk to Peter, and you can get him to call me.”
“Peter … Lawford?”
“Right.”
“Listen, Eddie, Frank and Peter, they’re-”
“This’ll have nothin’ to do with Frank, Sammy.”
“But … you’re sayin’ this is about the President, aren’t you? About Kennedy?”
“That’s right, Sammy. I think you caught JFK, maybe in the background of a photo, but you caught him doin’ somethin’ they don’t want anyone to know about.”
“What?” Sammy asked. “Takin’ a payoff? Or was it a girl?”
“I don’t know, Sammy,” I said, “but it looks like they’re killin’ to keep it quiet.”
“Jesus … so now we’ve got two pictures to worry about?”
“I don’t know about you,” I said, “but my first concern is still your picture. But can you get Peter to call me? Talk to me about the Kennedy family?”
“I can get him to call you,” he said, “but whether or not he’ll talk to you, that’s somethin’ else.”
“Let’s start with the call, Sam, as soon as possible. I’m at Harrah’s in Reno. Here’s the number.” I read it to him off the phone.
“Stay put,” he said. “Let me see if I can get ahold of him.”
I checked my watch.
“It’s got to be in two hours, Sam,” I said.
“I’ll try, Eddie.”
I hung up and looked at Jerry.
“Why two hours?” he asked. “We got more time than that.”
“Not if we stick to the plan we’ve got to get you out there while it’s still light.”
“Oh yeah, the plan,” Jerry said. “Me in that broken-down house.”
“With your trusty forty-five,” I said, “keepin’ me alive.”
“I can do that, Mr. G.”
“I hope so, Jerry.”
“But if I’m gonna do it,” he said, sitting down on one of the beds, “I better take a little nap.”
“Yeah,” I said, suddenly realizing how tired I was, “me, too.”
“Should we leave a wake-up call?”
“Naw,” I said, reclining on the other bed with my shoes on, “Sammy’s call will wake us up.”
I woke up a while later. Jerry was sitting at the table. He had his gun in his hand and was cleaning it. He had the TV on.
I sat up and he turned the set off.
“Hey, Mr. G. Just wanted ta make sure this thing would work if we needed it.”
“What time is it?”
“You was asleep for an hour and a half,” he said. “I woke up about twenty minutes ago. I checked the news. Still no word on those bodies in Vegas.”
“Good.”
I rubbed my eyes. I felt like I had slept for ten minutes.
“I’m gonna call room service for some coffee,” I said. “I know this is a silly question, but do you want something?”
“Yeah,” he said, “I could use a burger and fries.”
I looked at my watch.
“We’re going to have to get out of here in half an hour.”
“Then you better call now.”
“Right.”
I called down and asked them to put a rush on two burger platters with coffee.
“Mr. G.?” Jerry said, as I hung up.
“Yeah.”
“I got another piece.”
“Huh?”
“Another gun,” he said, “in case you want it.”
“Not … not Sammy’s gun-”
“No, no,” he said, “that’s still hid around your house in pieces.”
“If the cops show up with a search warrant are they gonna find it?” I asked.
“Naw,” he said, then added, “I don’t think.”
Did I want to carry a gun? No. I might end up shooting somebody. Wasn’t that why I had Jerry around? Well, no, not exactly, but still, if somebody had to be shot he was sure as hell gonna be better at it than I was.
“That’s okay, Jerry,” I said. “I don’t want to carry a gun.”
“Suit yerself.”
He finished cleaning his.45 by the time the food showed up. We had ten minutes to eat. For some reason, it was the best burger and fries I’d had in a long time.
When we finished eating we put on our jackets. Jerry hadn’t packed a heavy one, so I reminded him he was going to be out there for hours and it was going to get cold.
“You’re right,” he said. He put on a second shirt, then grabbed the pickle off my plate and the rest of my fries-just a few-wrapped them in a napkin and put them in his pocket.
“In case I get hungry.”
The last thing he did was slide his.45 back into his shoulder rig.
“Well,” I said, “now that you’re completely outfitted, we better get going.”
Forty-eight
Peter Lawford hadn’t called, and Sammy hadn’t, either. That worried me, but I had to get Jerry out to that meeting place.
It was on the outskirts of town, not that long a drive at all, but once we got there it felt like we were in the middle of nowhere.
Jerry did a quick check of the two buildings-or the building-and-a-half-and pronounced us all alone.
“You sure about this, Jerry?”
“Dead sure, Mr. G. It’s the best way.”
“And if they find you out here?”
“They may not be pros, but it probably won’t surprise them that we’re bein’ careful.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be back about fifteen minutes before the meet.”
“Bring a flashlight, Mr. G.,” Jerry said.
“I’ll get one from my buddy, Jim.”
“Okay,” Jerry said. “Drive careful.”
“I’ll see you later, Jerry,” I said. “Watch your back.”
“That ain’t what I’m out here for, Mr. G.,” he said. “I’m out here to watch your back.”
“Yeah, well, do me a favor and watch ’em both, huh?”
“You got it.”
I started up the car, turned it around, and headed back down the dirt road.
I was walking through Harrah’s casino when I saw her. You couldn’t miss her. The blond hair, pale skin, red mouth, all those curves-and the crowd she was drawing. It was Marilyn Monroe, all right, wearing a long-sleeved checkered shirt tucked into tight jeans. She was alone, trying to clear a path for herself to walk as people crowded in around her, trying to talk to her or touch her. I thought the look in her eyes was confused, or … kind of vacant. She also looked scared. I remembered what Frank said about the movie company having trouble with her being on time for her scenes in The Misfits.
But right now she was just trying to walk, and having a tough time of it. I could see she was on the verge of panic, so I did the only thing I could think of.
“Okay, okay, clear the way,” I shouted, wading in with my arms waving like a windmill.
Everybody turned to look at me, wondering who the hell I was. They shrunk back from me, because I looked like a madman.
“Outta the way, outta the way!” I yelled.
Marilyn looked at me, too, as I reached her and put my arm around her. Good God, but she felt good, a beautiful, solid girl who really filled out her clothes.
“Wha-who are you?” she asked. I could feel her breath on my face.
“My name’s Eddie,” I said. “I’m a friend of Frank’s. Come on!”
I pulled her along, still waving my free arm. People pulled back from my perceived authority, and I knew I had to get her out of there before she realized I was nobody.
“Are you staying here?” I asked her.
“Yes, but … I couldn’t find the elevators.”
“Stay close,” I said, and felt one of her arms go around me.
I took her to the elevators as some of the crowd started to follow us.
“… the hell is he …”
“… he think he’s doin’?”
I heard the words behind us as I pressed the button for the elevator. Luckily, the car was already on the ground floor, so the doors opened.
“In you go,” I said, giving her a gentle push. “Got your room key?”
“Oh, yes, but …”
“What floor?”
“Four.”
I leaned in and pressed four, then started to step out. She reached for me as the doors closed. Her hand caught the front of my shirt and she kissed me quickly on the cheek. I admit it, my head swam.
“Eddie … thanks, honey.”
“Any time,” I said, and she was gone.
As the doors closed I looked around the casino to see if Clark Gable or Montgomery Clift were anywhere. I wondered if they were staying in the hotel, too.
Once Marilyn was gone, people started gambling again and I continued on to the hotel lobby. Things were back to normal for everyone but me. I had Marilyn’s kiss on my cheek, her scent in my nose and still had the feel of her weight against me.
Oh boy …
When I got to the room I called Sammy. While it rang I cleaned Marilyn’s lipstick off my face with my handkerchief, folded it carefully, and put it in my pocket.
“I called but you weren’t there,” Sammy said.
“You must’ve tried after we left.”
“Yeah, I was late,” he said. “I was on the phone with Rod Serling. We met a while back and got pretty friendly. You know Serling?”
“Just what I see on The Twilight Zone,” I said.
“I was all set to do an episode early last year,” he explained, “about a white bigot who wakes up in the morning a black man. The censors wouldn’t go for it and nixed the deal. I was feelin’ pretty low and that was when Frank came to me with Ocean’s Eleven.”
“Sammy,” I said, cutting him off before he could continue the story, “did you get to Peter?”
“Sorry, sorry, I did,” he said. “I got a number for you to call.”
I wrote it down.
“Can I call it right away?”
“Yeah, he’ll be there. He doesn’t want his wife or his in-laws to know he’s talkin’ to you, though.”
“I can understand that.”
“He’ll be there-” He stopped, probably looking at his watch, or a clock, “-for about another hour.”
Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand) rp-3 Page 14
