When Somebody Kills You

by Robert J. Randisi

  ‘Don’t come any closer, please. This is a crime scene.’

  ‘We know,’ I said. ‘We called it in.’

  Another cop came over, older, with some stripes on his arm. ‘Do you know what happened?’ he asked.

  ‘We just heard the shot from our bungalow. We came out to see what happened.’

  ‘Both of you?’

  ‘Just me,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I know a shot when I hear one,’ he said.

  ‘And do you know the victim?’

  ‘We do,’ I said. ‘He was a friend of ours. He was probably comin’ to visit us. We were gonna buy him a drink.’

  ‘Guess that ain’t gonna happen now,’ the young one said, with a smirk.

  ‘Shut up, Benny,’ the older cop said. ‘Go and keep the people back.’

  Guests who had not reacted to the shot had reacted to the presence of the police cars and were now beginning to crowd the parking lot.

  ‘What did I sa—’

  ‘Just go!’

  Sullenly, the young cop turned and walked away.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ the older cop said. ‘I’m Sergeant McDonough. Can I see some ID, please?’

  We both took out our wallets. By the time he checked us out, Detective Franklin was there. I hadn’t reached him at the station, but they’d promised to notify him. He looked as if he’d been dragged out of bed.

  ‘What are you doin’ here, Lynn?’ the sergeant asked.

  ‘I got a call, Andy,’ Franklin said. ‘I’m workin’ on something that might be related.’

  Sergeant McDonough looked from him to us and back to him. ‘You know these fellas?’

  ‘I do.’

  He handed Franklin our wallets. ‘It’s all yours, then. Want us to canvas?’

  ‘Sure, Andy,’ Franklin said. ‘That’d be fine.’

  McDonough nodded to Franklin, looked at us and walked off.

  Franklin handed us back our wallets. ‘Who’s the victim?’ he asked.

  ‘Kenny Boyd,’ I said. ‘He’s a PI workin’ for the Double-A agency.’

  ‘Nat Hiller’s outfit.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Hiller involved?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘Boyd was a loan.’

  ‘What was he doin’ for you?’

  ‘Some legwork.’

  ‘Is he from LA?’

  ‘No, actually,’ I said, ‘he’s from Hiller’s Vegas office.’

  ‘I didn’t know Double-A was in Vegas,’ Franklin said. ‘What was Boyd doin’ out here?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ I said. ‘We’d seen him earlier in the day, but thought he’d gone back to his hotel.’

  ‘And where is that?’

  Jerry and I looked at each other, and Jerry shook his head. ‘We never asked.’

  ‘When did you see him last?’

  ‘Sometime after dinner.’

  ‘When was that?’

  This was a small lie, only because we’d already lied to the sergeant. We’d seen Boyd around eight, but I said, ‘Six.’ I felt it was a harmless lie, and saved us having to explain why we had lied to the sergeant before.

  ‘Talk to him on the phone after that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So you have no idea why he was in this parking lot, or for how long.’

  ‘No, we don’t,’ I said.

  ‘What about Miss Garland?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Could she have talked to him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because since he left we’ve all been watchin’ TV together.’

  ‘TV? Really?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she watch TV?’

  He shrugged. ‘No reason. What did you watch?’

  ‘Red Skelton,’ I said, and told him who was on the show, for good measure.

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Petticoat Junction,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Really?’ Franklin said again.

  I jerked my head toward Jerry. ‘He likes Billie Jo.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Franklin said, ‘I’m kind of a Bobbie Jo man, myself.’

  He turned to look as a white van pulled up. I assumed it was a lab truck.

  ‘OK,’ he said, ‘that’s it for now. We’ll talk again.’

  I told him which bungalow we were in.

  ‘Stay there, please,’ he said. ‘I’ll check in on you before I leave here.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll bet Nat Hiller’s not gonna be happy with you,’ Franklin said.

  ‘I’ll bet you’re right.’

  FIFTY-THREE

  We knew Boyd, and he was killed in the parking lot of our hotel. That’s all the cops had on us.

  Franklin came to our bungalow with Wilcox – who also looked as if he’d been dragged from bed – and they took our statements. They talked to Judy, who said she’d heard a sound, and that was all.

  ‘Jerry and Eddie said it was a shot.’ After that, they let her go to her room and agreed to keep her out of their report as much as possible.

  ‘As far as I’m concerned,’ Franklin said, at the door on his way out, ‘I don’t think either of you killed him, but I’d prefer you don’t leave town. Or, at least, if you do, let me know.’

  ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘we were going to head back to Vegas in the morning.’

  ‘Where will you be?’

  ‘You can find us at the Sands.’

  ‘And Miss Garland?’

  ‘She’ll also be there,’ I said. ‘We’re going to be discussin’ the possibility of her performin’ there.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘If you need us, we’re only a short plane ride away,’ I said. ‘We’ll come back.’

  ‘OK, as long as I have all your numbers.’

  I gave him the number at the Sands, and my home phone. ‘You’ll find Jerry at those, too.’

  They left and I looked at Jerry. ‘Why do you think they’re lettin’ us go?’

  ‘They’re probably gonna have somebody in Vegas keep an eye on us.’

  ‘I’ll bet Hargrove would love to do that for him.’

  ‘Probably.’

  We all turned in after that – when everything had died down in the parking lot, and Boyd and his car had been taken away.

  I had to call Hiller in the morning, tell him about his man.

  ‘Does this have to do with the reason I loaned him to you?’ he asked.

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘Then was he killed instead of you because of the contract?’

  ‘I think so,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’

  There was a long pause and then he said, ‘Well, you did tell me about it.’

  I had that in my favor, at least.

  ‘I’m still sorry. He was a good man.’

  ‘Yeah, he was.’

  ‘I would have called you sooner but I didn’t have a home number.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  I had the feeling he wasn’t happy with me and was trying to hold his temper.

  ‘What’s your next move?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re headin’ back to Vegas today,’ I said. ‘Obviously comin’ here didn’t throw anybody off my scent.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘watch your back, there.’ He hung up without offering any more help, even though he had an office in Vegas.

  I couldn’t blame him.

  ‘You didn’t tell him about Judy comin’ with us,’ Jerry said.

  ‘He didn’t ask,’ I replied. ‘I think he’s just glad we’re leavin’ town.’

  ‘How are we gonna do that?’ he asked. ‘Fly?’

  ‘I was thinkin’ about drivin’ in Boyd’s car, but that’s out now. I’ll call Frank; he’ll arrange for a plane.’

  ‘I have a car,’ Judy said, from behind us.

  We turned, saw her standing there in her jeans and a sweater, the sleeves pulled up to her elbows.

  ‘In fact,’ she said, ‘I have more than
one.’

  I looked at Jerry, who smiled.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  As it turned out, Judy was afraid of flying. She was also afraid of guns, a fear she said materialized when she was making Girl Crazy with Mickey Rooney for Busby Berkeley. The constant gunfire all around so unnerved her that she had to take to her bed for five days.

  So, because of her fear of airplanes, we agreed to drive to Las Vegas. Actually, by the time we could have contacted Frank, got a plane, driven to the airport, boarded and flown to Vegas, we would have been there by car. It was only 270 miles, after all.

  Judy called Harrington in the morning and had him drive over in her car, which turned out to be a silver Rolls-Royce Phantom V MPW limo.

  ‘Is this OK?’ she asked hopefully as we stood in the parking lot.

  Jerry was speechless.

  ‘CBS insisted on this car,’ she said. ‘And they gave me a driver during the run of my show. Lately it hasn’t been used much, though.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘Jerry’s the driver. Is this OK, Big Guy?’

  He was too busy running his hands over the finish to answer.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I told Judy.

  Harrington left to take a cab home. She told him he could close up the house and take a few days off.

  We went inside to get our bags, and Jerry stowed them in the trunk without ripping his stitches. Then Judy and I got in the back, while Jerry slid behind the wheel. The leather interior still smelled brand new. I hoped neither of us would bleed all over it.

  Jerry didn’t start the car right away, just sat there and ran his hands over the steering wheel.

  ‘Jerry?’

  ‘Yeah, Mr G.,’ he said, ‘I’m goin’. Just gimme a minute.’

  I looked at Judy and said, ‘He’s just got to get his heartbeat down.’

  She nodded, still unhappy that I hadn’t let her call Mark Herron. I told her I thought it would be better to wait until we were in Vegas.

  I hadn’t even called Danny or Jack Entratter to tell them we were returning. I didn’t want to give anyone a heads-up. We hadn’t checked out of the hotel that morning; I’d let Entratter take care of the bill from Vegas.

  However, before Harrington even arrived with the limo there was a knock on the door … and a bellhop handed me an envelope.

  ‘Somebody left this at the front desk for you last night, sir.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I tipped him and sent him on his way. When I opened the envelope, I called out to Jerry, ‘Well, now we know what Boyd was doin’ back here last night.’

  ‘What’s that?’ he called from the kitchen.

  I joined him and waved the envelope.

  ‘It’s Boyd’s report on the house where we found Jacks and Peggy.’

  ‘Damn,’ he said. ‘He came back to drop that off and got killed for it? Wait till I get my hands on whoever pulled that trigger.’

  We’d been in the middle of a simple breakfast of toast and coffee, so I sat back down across from him. Judy was in the bedroom, packing.

  ‘What’s it say?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘His note says there’s a paper trail of companies that own the house, rent it out … a real estate rental office is involved … damn, he followed all this on the phone?’ There were a few sheets of a typewritten report. I assumed he’d had a typewriter in his hotel room.

  ‘Where does it lead?’

  ‘Wait …’ I went through the report, then put the pages down. ‘He doesn’t come to the end of it. He was still workin’ on it. Damn.’

  ‘Then why’d he bother bringin’ it around?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I wish I did. Maybe he just meant to give it to us, forgot and hurried back.’

  ‘To die,’ Jerry said. ‘He was a good guy.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘he was.’

  In the back seat, Judy was kind of quiet, pensive – or maybe just nervous about Jerry’s driving. So far we’d only driven from her house to the hotel, but now we’d be on the highway.

  ‘I hope he won’t drive too fast,’ she said. ‘We’re not in a hurry to get there, are we, Eddie?’

  I took her hand and said, ‘We’re not in a hurry, at all, Judy. Don’t worry.’

  I leaned forward and banged on the open partition.

  ‘Home, Jerry!’

  FIFTY-FIVE

  As we pulled away from the Beverly Hills Hotel we spotted Zack and his cab out front.

  ‘Mr G.?’ Jerry said. ‘Should we tell him we’re leavin’?’

  For a moment I thought we should, but then I said. ‘Not if we’re bein’ watched. They’ve seen him drivin’ for us. If they see him waitin’ our front for us, it’ll look like we’re still inside.’

  ‘Yeah, OK,’ Jerry said. ‘I just hate to leave the guy hangin’.’

  ‘Better him than us,’ I said.

  We drove for an hour and Jerry couldn’t take it anymore. That meant a proper breakfast in Riverside.

  ‘This reminds me of when we did this with Miss Gardner,’ Jerry said, putting the car in park.

  ‘Ava Gardner?’ Judy asked. ‘Well, I’m in good company.’

  ‘Yes, we drove with Ava from LA to Vegas a while back,’ I said.

  ‘Another favor for Frank, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you do favors for all Frank’s women?’

  I looked at her and said, ‘Just the ones I like. Do you have some dark glasses in your purse?’

  ‘Always,’ she said, ‘and a scarf.’

  ‘Good. Maybe we’ll get away with this.’

  ‘We will,’ she said.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Most people still expect me to look like Dorothy.’

  We parked in the lot of a truck stop. Jerry got out and opened the back door for Judy, held his hand out to help her out. I was always amazed at how gentle the big man could be when he wanted to. I followed them to the diner.

  Inside, we got a booth in the back, me and Judy on one side, Jerry by himself on the other.

  ‘I love truck-stop breakfasts,’ Jerry said, handing Judy a menu. ‘Big ham steaks!’

  ‘Ugh,’ she said. ‘I’ll just have some coffee and a soft boiled egg.’

  ‘Ugh!’ Jerry said, and then smiled at her. She had no choice but to smile back.

  Jerry and I both got scrambled eggs with a ham steak and home fries, while Judy stuck to her guns and had the soft boiled egg. I was surprised that a truck-stop cook got it so right for her. They brought her toast with it, so she ate two pieces.

  We were still eating when she finished and lit up a Salem. I hadn’t seen her smoke till then. I thought it was something else she was trying to give up. And I might have been right, judging by the way her hands were shaking.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘do you mind?’

  ‘Take more than that to stop me from eatin’,’ Jerry said.

  ‘No problem,’ I said.

  She drew heavily on the cigarette, expelled the smoke shakily. ‘I’m just a little on edge.’

  ‘We understand,’ I said.

  ‘I thought I just had somebody following me, you know?’ she said. ‘To think that he might be a killer …’

  ‘Blackmailers fall out,’ Jerry told her. ‘It could have nothin’ to do with you, at all.’

  ‘But I’m the one they were blackmailing.’

  ‘Whether there were blackmailers,’ I said, ‘or whether Begelman pulled this and used Jacks to make it look like a payoff, them fallin’ out doesn’t put you in any danger. As far as Begelman’s concerned, you’re the goose.’

  ‘The goose?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘That lays the golden eggs,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Jerry said. ‘Jack and the Beanstalk. Abbott and Costello.’

  ‘What?’ Judy asked, puzzled.

  ‘I mean, I know it’s a fairy tale, but they did an Abbott and Costello movie about it.’

  ‘Jerry,’ she said, ‘you’re precious.’

  I don’t kn
ow if he was precious or not, but her hand had stopped shaking.

  We finished breakfast, paid the tab and walked back to the car without anyone recognizing Judy. Jerry held the door for her. I walked to the other side and stopped him before getting in.

  ‘Keep the speed down, Jerry,’ I said. ‘I get the feelin’ she might lose it.’

  ‘Sure thing, Mr G. I wouldn’t do anythin’ to hurt Miss Garland.’

  ‘I know you wouldn’t.’

  We got in the car and Jerry pulled out on to the road.

  ‘I haven’t been to Vegas since I played the Frontier in fifty-eight,’ she said.

  ‘That was a triumph for you,’ I said. I was in Vegas at the time, but didn’t see her show and we never met. But I knew she was so good that they kept her over an extra fourth week.

  ‘A triumph,’ she said, then put her head back and closed her eyes.

  FIFTY-SIX

  It took longer than it should have because Jerry did keep his speed down. But Judy was right. We weren’t in any hurry.

  I told him to pull the limo around the back. I wanted to take Judy inside without anybody seeing her.

  ‘What about the car?’ Jerry asked. ‘We can‘t just leave it. I mean … that’s a car!’

  ‘I’ll have one of the valets look after it,’ I promised.

  Partially mollified, he followed us inside. I led the way directly to the elevators.

  ‘Where we goin’?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘Right to Jack’s office,’ I said. I looked at Judy. ‘He’ll get you a suite with no fuss.’

  ‘Whatever you say,’ she said. She’d been very quiet the last couple of hours of the ride. I figured she had a lot on her mind. How much she was willing to tell me, I hoped to find out later.

  We took the elevator to Entratter’s floor and entered his office. We passed two employees in the hall, and they both gaped at Judy. The same thing happened when we entered Jack’s outer office. I didn’t know anything about the girl sitting there, except that she was pretty and new. But she knew Judy when she saw her.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she said.

  ‘Is Jack here?’ I asked.

  ‘Uh …’ She pulled her eyes away from Judy. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Eddie Gianelli.’

  ‘Eddie G.!’ she said. ‘Yes, I was told about you. Yes, Mr Entratter is in his office.’