You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Kills You (18 page)

BOOK: You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Kills You
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“So while you’re lookin’ for the killer of the clerk, you’ll be lookin’ for Danny as well?”

“Yeah, Eddie,” Stanze said, “we’ll keep our eyes open for Danny. But tell your PI to stay out of our way.
Comprende?”

“I think he knows how to do that,” I said.

Stanze laughed. “Not if past history is any indication.”

He and Bailey got in their car and drove away. I returned to the pool.

“How did we do?” Frank asked.

“Great,” I said. “I think Jerry and I are off the hook … for now.”

“Good,” Frank said. “I’m gonna get my construction crew back here.”

“Thanks, Frank.”

“Sure, kid.”

He went into the house, leaving Marilyn by the pool with me and Jerry.

“That detective was very nice,” she said. “Nicer than the first time, and very young.”

“He had stars in his eyes,” I said.

“For Frank?” she asked.

“And you.”

“He was sweet to me.”

“Aren’t men usually sweet to you, Miss M.?” Jerry asked.

“Not all of them, Jerry.”

“Then the ones who ain’t are jerks.”

She smiled.

“And you’re sweet, Big Jerry,” she said, stroking his face. I’d never seen Jerry blush before.

Marilyn turned to me and asked, “Are you staying?”

“No. And we’ve been back and forth too many times already.”

“What do you mean?”

“This time we’re going to stay in L.A. until we find Danny, and until you’re able to go home again.”

“How long will that be, do you think?”

“I don’t know, but at least now we’ve got the cops and a private eye working on it.”

“That sounds like a lot,” she said.

“Yeah, it does.”

I only hoped it was enough.

We said good-bye to Frank and Marilyn, telling them we’d see them again when it was all over.

“Stay in touch, Eddie,” Marilyn said, “so I know you’re safe.”

“I’ll call,” I said. “I promise.”

Fifty

W
E DROVE BACK TO
Brentwood and Marilyn’s house. It seemed to be that was all we’d been doing, driving back and forth, accomplishing nothing.

As soon as we entered the guesthouse I phoned Fred Otash’s office.

“Is he in, Miss Deeds?”

“Yes, he is, Mr. Gianelli,” she replied politely. “Hold on, please.”

She switched me over and Otash came on the line.

“Mr. Gianelli, I assume you’re back?”

“Yes, we are.”

“Good,” he said. “May I drive out to see you?”

“Sure, when?”

“Now,” he said. “I can be there in an hour. I have one other short stop to make.”

“Okay, we’ll be here. Pull into the drive and come to the guesthouse.”

“The guesthouse, all right. I’ll see you soon,” he said, and hung up.

“Wonder if he’s got any news for us?” Jerry said.

“I just hope nobody else is dead,” I said. “Seems like every time we get together somebody—”

“Don’t say it, Mr. G.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said. “It’s just such a … coincidence.”

“That’s the word I didn’t want you to say.”

“We got any coffee to make when Otash gets here?” I asked.

“I can get some from the kitchen in the main house,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

But he didn’t come right back. In fact, he didn’t come back at all and I had to go looking for him.

“Jerry?” I called, entering the main house.

No answer.

“Crap.” If he went missing like Danny … but he wasn’t, so I didn’t have to finish that thought. Instead, I had some new thoughts. When I entered the kitchen and saw him spread out on the floor, blood pooled around him, I feared the big guy was dead.

Fred Otash made good time, which meant he got there while the ambulance crew was still loading Jerry into the back.

“What happened?” he asked, coming up on me.

“He went into the main house and walked into somethin’,” I said. “I don’t know what happened because he’s not conscious, but at least he’s alive.”

“That’s good, that he’s alive, but what’s the diagnosis?”

“They have to get him to the hospital and see how bad the head injury is.”

“What was he—”

“Look, can we talk on the way?” I said, cutting him off.
“They won’t let me ride in the ambulance with him, but I’m going to the hospital.”

“Okay, I’ll drive,” Otash said, “and I’ll bring you back.”

“No, I got a better idea. I’ll drive myself. You go into the house and see what you can find. Figure somethin’ out, Fred. Do your job.”

Before he could respond I trotted over to the Caddy and got it started. He was still standing in the drive when I backed out and took off after the ambulance.

Fifty-one

T
HE CLOSEST HOSPITAL WAS
in Antioch; it only took the ambulance seven minutes to get Jerry there. I was impressed. By the time I parked and got inside he was already in emergency.

“You’ll have to wait out here, sir,” a nurse told me, pointing to a waiting room.

I went and sat for ten minutes before I got up and found a phone. I called Dean’s number in Beverly Hills. Jeannie said he was in New York but asked me what I needed. When I told her that Jerry was in the hospital she said she’d call their doctor and have him come right over there.

“I know Dean would want to help, Eddie,” she said.

“Thanks, Jeannie.”

I was still in the waiting room when Dean’s doctor came walking in. I didn’t know him, but somehow he picked me out.

“I’ll get in there and see what’s going on,” he promised. “Sit tight.”

I figured I had done everything I could, so I did just that.

Fred Otash showed up about an hour after Jerry had been brought in.

“How is he?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “They’re workin’ on him. I called Dean Martin and Jeannie sent over their doctor.”

Otash sat next to me.

“What’d you find out?”

“Not much,” he admitted. “Looks to me like Jerry must have had his head in the refrigerator when somebody came up behind and hit him.”

“That’s about the only way somebody would’ve been able to take him.”

“Before I left, Detective Stanze arrived at the house,” he told me. “He’ll be in here soon.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Otash fell silent, but sat with me.

Twenty minutes after Otash arrived, Stanze walked in.

“How is he?” he asked.

“We’re still waitin’,” I said.

“Looks like somebody jimmied the back door more than once,” Stanze said. “They must’ve been in there when Jerry came in. First he surprised them, then they surprised him. There was a lot of blood, but that’s what happens with head wounds.”

Stanze sat on the other side of me.

“What were you guys doing?” he asked.

“Fred had called and said, he was comin’ over,” I explained. “Jerry went into the main house to find some coffee. When he didn’t come back I went lookin’ for him, found him out cold on the floor.”

“That’s it?” Stanze asked.

“That’s it, Detective,” I said. “We weren’t doin’ anythin’ but tryin’ to make coffee.”

Stanze nodded.

“You don’t mind I’ll stick around a while.”

“I don’t mind.”

At that point his partner walked in with two bags filled with coffee containers.

“I didn’t know who’d be here,” he said, handing them out.

“Can’t have too much coffee,” Otash said.

Bailey nodded, sat down across from us, and put the other bag of coffees on the table next to him.

“You don’t mind I’ll stay a while,” he said to me. “I kinda like the big lug.”

“Sure.”

We sat quietly and drank our coffee.

The emergency room doctor came out with Dean’s doctor in tow an hour and a half after they brought Jerry in.

“He’s got a hard head,” he said. “He has a hairline fracture of the skull, and we had to drain some blood to take pressure off his brain.”

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“We had to drill a hole in the skull to drain the blood out,” the doctor said.

I heard a sharp intake of breath from somebody, probably Bailey.

“He has a fracture and you had to drill a hole?” I asked.

“That’s right.”

“How is he?”

“He’s unconscious, but we’re very optimistic.”

“And what’s that mean?”

“It means most people wake up within hours of an injury like this,” the doctor said. “Some wake up … later.”

“How much later?”

“Depends. Days, week, months …”

“Years?”

“Sometimes.”

“Never?” I asked. “Is there a chance he might never wake up?”

“There’s always that chance,” the doctor said. “We should know more later tonight, or tomorrow.”

“Doctor,” Stanze said, showing his ID, “did he ever say a word? Anything?”

“Nothing,” the doctor said.

Dean’s doctor looked at me and said, “They’ve done all they can.”

“Yeah,” I said to both doctors, “thanks.”

“Leave your information with the front desk,” the emergency room doctor said, “including a number where we can get ahold of you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The doctor turned and left.

“Eddie, we’ll be back in the morning to see if he’s awake and can make a statement,” Stanze said.

“How about putting a man on his door, Stanze?” I asked. “I mean, somebody did try to kill him.”

“Well, we don’t know that for sure—the intent, I mean, but you’re right. I’ll put a uniform on his door.”

“Okay, thanks. Give them my name and description, will you? I’ll be comin’ back.”

“Yeah, I’ll leave orders nobody gets in but you or Otash.”

Bailey grabbed the bag of extra coffee. “You want me to leave these?”

“We’re going to go out for coffee and something to eat,” Otash said.

Bailey nodded.

He and Stanze left.

“Come on, Eddie,” Otash said. “Let’s leave your info and then go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “okay.”

At the desk they took my number, and when I asked about making payment they said that Dean Martin’s wife had called and all bills were to be sent to them.

“Your friend has friends in high places,” the nurse said, smiling.

“Yeah,” I said, “he does.”

Otash took me by the arm. “Come on, Eddie.”

I let him guide me outside.

Fifty-two

W
E FOUND A DINER
a few blocks away, pulled over and parked both cars. Inside the greasy smell of the place awakened the hunger in me. I kept thinking Jerry would want me to eat.

“You’re probably used to better places to eat in Vegas,” Otash said. “To tell you the truth I’m used to better, too, but every once in a while I just want some greasy diner food.”

We sat in a cracked red-leather booth. A tired waitress came over and gave us menus.

“Bring me a beer,” I told her.

“I’ll have one, too,” Otash said.

“Comin’ up.”

When she came back with two glasses of beer I ordered chicken in a basket and Otash ordered a burger platter.

“I’m sure Jerry’ll be all right, Eddie,” he said.

“He’s got a hard head,” I said. “He’ll be okay. You know, I’ve seen him maybe four times in the past two years, and the big lug is probably one of the best friends I’ve got. Him and Danny. Whoever’s behind this, they’ve done damage to my two best friends, and it’s because they were both tryin’ to help me.”

“No point in feeling guilty about it,” Otash said. “The best thing to do is find out who’s behind it and make them pay.”

“We’ve got to find Danny,” I said. “Have you checked all the hospitals in town?”

“Hospitals, morgues, I’ve checked all the drunk tanks and jails in a hundred-mile radius. No sign of him.”

“Then he’s alive, unless he’s out in the Pacific somewhere, weighed down.”

“Look,” Otash said, “I was coming over to discuss something with you. Are you prepared to listen? Or do you want to feel sorry for yourself all night?”

For a split second I felt a flash of anger and wanted to go over the table at him, but then it faded.

“I’m ready,” I said.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. For a minute there I thought you were going to jump me.”

“For a minute there,” I said, “so did I.”

BOOK: You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Kills You
7.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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