When Somebody Kills You

by Robert J. Randisi

  ‘And I’m sure your trained private dick friend is involved.’

  ‘I’m usin’ whatever resources I’ve got at my disposal, Hargrove,’ I explained. ‘I don’t want any innocents to die, either.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Anythin’ else?’

  He pointed his finger at me. ‘If you and your mob buddies make Las Vegas into a shooting gallery, I’ll make you pay. Understand?’

  I leaned forward in an attempt to give my words more gravity. ‘I don’t have any mob buddies.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ He stood up.

  ‘Can I go now?’

  ‘Not just yet,’ he said. ‘I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Well, if you’re gonna keep me here any longer, you might consider sendin’ in some of those creature comforts you mentioned before.’

  He went out the door without replying.

  ‘Just a cup of coffee would be nice,’ I called after him. ‘Black, no sugar!’

  He left, and I sat back, prepared to cool my heels a little longer.

  SIXTY-ONE

  When I stepped outside I started to look for a cab, but instead my own car pulled up in front of the station with Jerry behind the wheel.

  ‘How’d you know I was here?’ I asked, getting in.

  ‘Mr S. filled me in.’

  ‘And how’d you know when I’d be comin’ out?’

  ‘From experience I figured that scumbag Hargrove would sweat you at least two hours.’

  ‘So you figured it perfectly?’ I said. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘Well, don’t be,’ he said, putting the car in drive, ‘I was parked down the street for about half an hour.’

  He pulled away from the curb, leaving some rubber in his haste to put some space between us and the police station.

  ‘Somebody’s on our tail,’ Jerry said, a few minutes later.

  ‘You sure?’ I asked, twisting in my seat.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  I turned back around.

  ‘Whataya wanna do?’ he asked.

  ‘I want to find out who it is and what he wants,’ I said.

  ‘And if he’s got a gun?’

  ‘Then he’s your business.’

  ‘All right! Where should we take him?’

  ‘Where else?’ I asked. ‘Industrial Road.’

  Industrial was off the main drag – lots of strip clubs, liquor stores and empty lots.

  ‘Think he’s gonna get wise?’ Jerry asked. ‘I mean, us leadin’ him out here like this?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘or maybe he’s got enough dollar signs dancin’ in his head it makes no difference.’

  ‘OK,’ Jerry said, looking in the rear-view mirror, ‘here he comes.’

  I took a look. The guy was driving a Mercury Marauder, a big muscle car, and was speeding up.

  ‘He’s comin’ up on your side, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘You want my piece?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I’ll shoot myself in the foot. I’m gonna depend on your drivin’ ability.’

  ‘Well, OK,’ he said, ‘but if he scratches this car, he’s gonna be one sorry-ass hitman.’

  ‘That’s what I’m countin’ on.’

  We didn’t know what he was waiting for.

  He had increased his speed until he was practically right on us, and then he maintained. It was as if all he wanted was us to know he was there.

  ‘This guy’s gettin’ on my nerves,’ Jerry said. ‘It’s like he don’t wanna catch us.’

  ‘Let’s see,’ I said. ‘Turn right on Grove.’

  He did it. Grove was a stretch of empty lots, with the exception of a nursery school.

  ‘Pull over.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Pass the nursery school … keep goin’ … OK, right here.’

  ‘It’s an empty lot.’

  ‘Right. Pull over. Let’s see what he does.’

  We braked immediately, pulling over to the curb in front of a vacant lot that was just dirt – no grass, gravel or even a fence.

  We both turned to look at the car which also pulled over right behind us. Nobody got out.

  ‘What’s he doin’?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘He’s doin’ the same thing we are,’ I said. ‘He’s waitin’.’

  ‘For what? He’s got a clear shot.’

  ‘If that’s what he wants,’ I said.

  Jerry filled his right fist with his .45 and reached for the door.

  ‘Hold it!’ I put my hand on his arm. ‘Somebody’s gettin’ out of the car.’

  ‘One guy or two?’ he asked.

  ‘One,’ I said. ‘Driver’s side.’

  ‘I’ll get ’im when he comes closer—’

  ‘Jerry,’ I said, ‘put the gun away.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Stash it. Now!’

  Jerry reached down and stuck the gun underneath his seat. As the man came closer, I noticed he had something in his hand, but it wasn’t a gun.

  ‘Eddie Gianelli?’ he asked. He was medium height, in his late thirties, wearing a brown suit with a beige tie. Very plain.

  ‘That’s right.’

  He showed me what he had in his hand. It was a wallet with an ID. I leaned into Jerry to take a look.

  ‘FBI?’

  ‘That’s right,’ the man said. ‘Agent Seagrave. Can we talk?’

  ‘Get back in your car and follow us, Agent Seagrave,’ I said, ‘and we’ll talk.’

  SIXTY-TWO

  I wanted neutral ground, so we didn’t take him to the Sands or to my house.

  ‘Where to, Mr G.?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘The Golden Nugget.’

  ‘Why there?’

  ‘One of the best-known and busiest casinos in town,’ I said. ‘And pretty far from the Sands, where Judy is.’

  ‘Neutral ground?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘You think this guy is on the level?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘he could’ve shot us. And his ID looked real.’

  ‘You ever seen a real FBI ID?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I have,’ Jerry said. ‘When we get there, I’ll take a good look.’

  We pulled in behind the Nugget.

  ‘Leave the gun,’ I said, as he reached under the seat.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If he’s legit and he catches you carrying—’

  ‘I’ll take the chance, Mr G.,’ he said, tucking the gun into his belt, behind his back where his sports jacket would cover it.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Have it your way.’

  We got out of the car, met up with Agent Seagrave behind it.

  ‘Can I see that ID?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Seagrave said. He took it out and handed it to Jerry. The big man studied it, then flipped to the man’s driver’s license, studied that, too. He handed it back.

  ‘OK?’

  ‘So far,’ Jerry said. ‘Don’t you jokers usually travel in pairs?’

  Seagrave smiled.

  ‘The other joker is otherwise engaged,’ Seagrave said. ‘Besides, I didn’t think I’d have any trouble with you fellas. I only want to talk. Is here good?’

  ‘Inside,’ I said.

  ‘Lead the way.’

  I did, but Jerry took up the rear, keeping Seagrave between us.

  Inside, I paused, but Jerry said, ‘It’s dinner time.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘it is.’

  ‘I could eat,’ Seagrave said.

  I didn’t want to hit any of the major restaurants in the Nugget, so I led the way to the lounge.

  ‘We’re eatin’ here?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘They have a good menu,’ I said.

  ‘As long as they have something,’ Agent Seagrave said.

  I waved over a waitress who happened to recognize me.

  ‘Hey, Eddie G. in the Nugget. What brings you here, handsome? Recruitin’ for the Sands?’

  ‘If I was, I’d snatch you up, Molly,’ I said. ‘We just need drinks and somethin’ to ea
t.’

  Molly gave Jerry an appraising look and said, ‘I’m glad we don’t have a buffet up. You look like you could do some damage.’

  ‘You got that right, lady,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Whataya need, Eddie?’

  ‘Three beers and some appetizers would be OK.’

  ‘Comin’ up.’ She flounced away.

  ‘Waitresses at the other casinos know you?’ Seagrave asked.

  ‘Mr G. gets around,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Speakin’ of gettin’ around,’ I said, ‘you might wanna tell us why you were tailin’ us.’

  Seagrave grinned. ‘Who’d you think I was?’ he asked. ‘Another hitter trying to cash in?’

  ‘What were we supposed to think?’ I asked.

  ‘So that’s why you were leading me to the middle of nowhere? You were going to take me out?’

  ‘If we had to,’ Jerry said.

  Seagrave pointed his finger at Jerry. He was about my height, maybe even a little less than six feet, and slender. It wasn’t a very threatening move. ‘You wouldn’t even want to bruise an FBI agent, Jack.’

  ‘The name’s Jerry,’ the big man said, ‘and try me. I’d do a lot more than bruise ya.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be carrying, would you, Tough Guy?’

  ‘Trying searchin’ me,’ Jerry invited.

  They glared at each other.

  ‘OK, OK,’ I said, ‘let’s cut the crap. What do you want, Seagrave?’

  Molly came with the three mugs of beer, and we waited while she set them down, giving us a good look at some generous cleavage. Seagrave took full advantage.

  When she was gone, Seagrave took a moment to down some beer.

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘what’s the big idea?’

  ‘You and your friend here walked in on something in LA, Eddie,’ Seagrave said, ‘and all of a sudden, people started to die. That sort of got us pissed initially, but then we got curious.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘We’re the FBI,’ he said. ‘We poked around a bit and found out about the open contract.’

  ‘So you weren’t watchin’ us in LA because of the contract?’

  ‘Hell, no,’ Seagrave said. ‘We were working on something else.’

  ‘That we walked into?’ I asked. ‘The only thing we went to LA to do was help Judy Garland out with something.’ I leaned forward. ‘FBI not investigating Judy, are they?’

  Before he could answer, Molly returned with a couple of platters of finger food. Both Seagrave and Jerry reached for them immediately. Luckily, they each went for a different platter.

  ‘No,’ he said, around a pig-in-a-blanket, ‘not Judy Garland.’

  ‘Who, then?’

  He sat back and licked his fingers. ‘OK, you didn’t hear this from me.’

  ‘We ain’t heard nothin’ from you, so far,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Yeah, OK,’ Seagrave said, ‘settle down, Godzilla.’

  ‘That the best insult you got?’ Jerry asked. ‘I heard ’em all.’

  ‘Jesus,’ I said, ‘don’t make me send you both to a damn neutral corner.’

  ‘Sorry, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘I don’t like this guy.’

  ‘I’ll try to cope,’ Seagrave said, grabbing what looked like some kind of potato puff.

  ‘Let’s have the whole story, Seagrave,’ I said, ‘before I walk away and let you deal with Jerry one-on-one.’

  Jerry looked real happy at that prospect.

  ‘We’ve had some reports about the business practices of Miss Garland’s management team, Freddie Fields and Dave Begelman,’ he said. ‘We’re looking into it.’

  ‘Why’s the FBI interested in some actress being cheated by her manager?’

  ‘Could be these boys are breaking some banking laws,’ Seagrave said. ‘Also, if they’re doing some skimming, that’s embezzlement, and that interests us.’

  ‘How long has this investigation been goin’ on?’

  ‘Months.’

  ‘Then it must have been in place when Begelman told Judy somebody was blackmailin’ her.’

  ‘It was.’

  ‘So you knew about that photo?’

  ‘We knew there was something going on between Begelman and the PI, Jacks,’ Seagrave said. ‘We didn’t know if a photo really existed. We were going to go after Jacks and see if we could get him to flip on Begelman, but then he disappeared – until he turned up dead the other day in a house in the canyon, along with his girl.’ He leaned forward. ‘You fellas wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ I said, reaching for a chip and stuffing it into my mouth.

  SIXTY-THREE

  ‘We know you snatched Judy Garland away to Vegas,’ Seagrave said. ‘Is she at the Sands?’

  ‘Do you have any reason to bother her?’

  ‘We’ve been talking with Sid Luft, who apparently is going to represent her when she sues her management team.’

  ‘Does she know you’ve been talkin’ to Luft?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘That’s between them.’

  ‘So you were tailin’ us to find her?’ I asked.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Seagrave said. ‘More like we wanted to see what you were up to.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just ask?’ I said.

  ‘That ain’t the way the FBI works, Mr G.,’ Jerry said.

  ‘And what would you know about the way we work?’ Seagrave asked.

  Jerry just glared at him.

  ‘Jerry?’ I prodded.

  ‘They never do anythin’ the easy way, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘And if they can mess things up, they will.’

  ‘Now wait just a minute—’

  ‘Are you gonna say you’ve never messed anythin’ up?’ I asked him.

  ‘Well … everybody makes mistakes … but what he’s saying isn’t—’

  ‘Just come out and tell us what you want to know, Agent Seagrave,’ I suggested. ‘We have to get on with our day.’

  ‘What specifically are you doing for Miss Garland?’

  ‘That’s between us and her.’

  ‘Does it have anything to do with possible embezzlement?’

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘OK, then, where is she?’

  I kept silent.

  ‘At the Sands? In the hotel?’

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘if you’re talkin’ to Sid Luft and he’s representin’ her, then why do you need to see Judy?’

  ‘We just want to … ask her a few questions.’

  ‘Ask Sid Luft,’ I said. ‘I’m not gonna let you bother Judy Garland. I’m not gonna let you … drag her through the press, cause her unnecessary publicity – bad publicity.’

  ‘What makes you think—’

  ‘How else would it look if it got out that she was being investigated by the FBI,’ I asked, ‘but bad?’

  ‘OK,’ Seagrave said. ‘How about this? You ask Miss Garland if she wants to talk to us. Let her make the decision. Whataya say?’

  I hesitated, then said, ‘I’ll mention it, if I happen to see her.’

  ‘That’ll do for now.’ He stood up. ‘Oh, just to cover all the bases … neither of you has killed anybody in the last … say … week?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I don’t kill people.’

  He looked at Jerry.

  ‘Not this week,’ the big man said.

  Seagrave snorted, looked at me, pointed at Jerry and said, ‘He’s a riot.’ He started away, then turned back. ‘You’ll hear from me, again.’

  ‘Next time, just call,’ I said to his retreating back.

  ‘Next time he follows us like that, I’ll put a bullet in him,’ Jerry said.

  ‘What would that accomplish?’

  ‘I don’t like him,’ he said. ‘It would just make me feel good.’

  ‘I getcha.’

  ‘Are you gonna tell Miss Garland it’s the FBI that’s been watchin’ her?’

  ‘I don’t think they broke into her house and looked in her underwear drawer,�
� I replied.

  ‘So … maybe that didn’t really happen?’

  I looked at him. He was probably right. If she noticed she was being watched, her imagination could have conjured up the rest of it. Could I tell her about the FBI and then convince her that no one had entered her house? And between me and Sid Luft – and the FBI – could we convince her there had never been any blackmail? And that she should probably go ahead and sever her relationship with Fields and Begelman, then sue them.

  But it would probably be best to do all that a little at a time …

  ‘You gonna eat any more of this food?’ I asked.

  Jerry looked down at it and said, ‘Finger food,’ as if it was a dirty phrase. Then he looked at me. ‘Ain’t the Horseshoe down the block?’

  ‘Yep, it is,’ I said. ‘But let’s go back to the Sands and take Judy to dinner – that is, if Frank hasn’t beaten us to it.’

  ‘OK, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘Sounds good.’

  Frank answered Judy’s door. ‘Hey, guys.’

  ‘Thought you might have gone to dinner already,’ I said.

  ‘I suggested it,’ he said. ‘She said she wanted to wait for you. Seems you’ve made a pretty good impression on her.’ He looked past me at Jerry. ‘Both of you.’

  ‘Good to hear,’ I said.

  ‘Come on in,’ Frank said. ‘Now that you’re here, I’ve gotta get going. I just didn’t want to leave her alone.’

  ‘Is she OK?’ I asked.

  ‘She’s fine,’ he said. ‘A little jumpy. She wanted to call that fella Herron, said you didn’t want her to. I suggested she wait until you got back.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘In the bathroom.’ Judy had often said the bathroom was the only room she felt safe in.

  ‘How do you know she’s not on the phone right now?’

  ‘I don’t,’ he said, picking his sports jacket up off the sofa. ‘But I couldn’t sit on her shoulder.’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘that’s my job.’

  ‘Favor,’ he reminded me. ‘That’s your favor, pally. Remember?’

  ‘I remember.’

  I walked to the door with him.

  ‘So you’re still planning on talking to Momo about the contract?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I’ll set it up, but I doubt Momo had anything to do with it, Eddie.’

  ‘Guess I won’t feel sure until I ask. If not him, maybe he knows who did.’

  ‘If it’s a good contract, it’d have to go through him,’ Frank said. ‘If it didn’t, he’s gonna be pissed. Once you tell him, Eddie, and he tells you it didn’t go through him, he’ll find out who did.’