You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Kills You (8 page)

“That’s sweet, Eddie, that you were worried, but I’m fine. I just left in a hurry. I had to get out of there.”

“I understand, honey.”

“You call me as soon as you know something, you hear me?”

“I will, Penny,” I said. “I promise.”

I hung up and looked at Jerry.

“We goin’ ta L.A.?”

I rubbed my face.

“We’d have to get our plane tickets pretty quick—”

“How long would it take to drive?” he asked.

“Drive?”

“Yeah,” Jerry said. “By the time we buy tickets, get to the airport, get on a plane—”

“It’s only about two hundred and fifty miles,” I told him.

“Hell, in your Caddy? We can do that in under three hours.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s find the name of the motel where Danny was staying. Then we’ll pack the car and head right out.”

We started searching for the information we needed. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to call Penny again. Finally, we found the motel name and address on her desk calendar.

We drove to my house so I could pack, then went to the Sands to get Jerry’s suitcase. After that we went down to the parking lot and tossed the bags in the back of the car.

“I get to drive, right?”

I nodded.

“You get to drive, big guy.”

T
HE DRIVE TO L.A
. took less than three hours. Jerry kept the Caddy between ninety and a hundred miles an hour most of the way and, surprisingly, we never got pulled over.

As we entered L.A., Jerry asked, “Where to?”

“Wait,” I said. “I’ve got to wait for my stomach to catch up.”

“Aw, Mr. G….”

“I’ve got directions to the motel Danny was stayin’ at,” I said. “I want to check there first.”

“Sure, Mr. G.”

The motel Danny had stayed in was just off 405, about half an hour’s drive from Marilyn’s house. He might have gotten something closer, but I knew he looked with a budget in mind. After all, I was going to be footing the bill.

We pulled into the parking lot of the Starshine Motor Court.

“You stay in the car,” I said. “I want to do this without being noticed, if I can.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll watch yer back from here.”

I decided to go to the room first. I opened the gate and entered the pool area, taking the stairs to the second level. Penny had written the room number down along with the address. When I got to Danny’s room I knocked. I thought, Wouldn’t it be a kick if he answered? Well, I was going to have to get my kicks somewhere else. He didn’t answer and the door was locked.

I heard something squeaking, turned my head and saw a maid pushing her cart. She wasn’t stopping at any of the rooms, so she must have finished for the day—at least, on this floor.

I started fishing around in my pocket, as if looking for my key. I didn’t know if this would work. In fact, it probably wouldn’t have worked on the maids in the Sands, but maybe here … then again, maids in L.A. hotels and motels had probably seen everything.

“Can you help me?” I asked, as she reached me.

She looked at me with bored, middle-aged eyes. Yeah, she’d seen it all. “You want in?”

“I forgot my key—”

“Don’t try to bullshit me, mister,” she said. “I been pushing this cart for too many years.”

“Well … okay. See, it’s my brother’s room and he said—”

“Ten bucks,” she said, cutting me off.

“What?”

“Ten bucks and I’ll let ya in.”

“Okay,” I agreed, handing over a sawbuck.

She used her key to open the door, swinging it wide and stepping back.

“Actually,” I said, trying one more time, “I think my wife’s cheating and using this motel—”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving her hand, “you don’t say nothin’ and I won’t say nothin’.”

She moved on. I went inside and closed the door behind me. She had obviously already cleaned the room. The bed was neatly
made. There were fresh, dry towels in the bathroom. The bottom of the tub was dry. Maybe she hadn’t needed to replace the towels.

I looked through the dresser drawers and found nothing. There was no suitcase in the room. Danny may not have had time to pack anything. If he’d followed Marilyn from Tahoe he might have been resourceful enough to get on her flight and follow her all the way. He could have picked up whatever he needed in LAX when they landed, maybe even a t-shirt or two and some underwear. I looked in the wastebasket to see if there were any clothing tags or empty bags, but there was nothing. The maid had done her job well.

In fact, there was nothing in the room to indicate that Danny had ever been there. I went back into the bathroom and looked on the counter. Okay, there was a comb, and a bottle of cologne. It was Hai Karate. Danny used it, but so did a lot of other guys.

Playing detective in the room had gotten me nowhere. I decided to go to the front desk and ask. After all, what was I trying to hide? I just wanted to know if my friend had ever checked in.

I left the room, letting the door lock behind me.

“Sure,” the desk clerk said, “he took a room here. Been here … what? Four days?”

Sounded right. I had been in Brooklyn for three days. The desk clerk had answered my question for the same price it took to get the maid to open the door. I wasn’t sure if I had gotten a deal or not.

“Have you seen him lately?”

“Whataya mean lately?”

The clerk was in his fifties, and had been dozing when I walked in. I had the feeling he spent a lot of his time dozing.

“Today? Yesterday? Maybe you saw him comin’ in, goin’ out?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“I hear and see everything.”

“You didn’t hear or see me come in.”

He showed me a wolfish, yellow-toothed grin. “Yeah, I did.”

“Okay,” I said, “okay.”

“If he came in late or early, then I wouldn’t’ve been here. You’d have to talk to whoever was on nights.”

“And who would that be?”

“Mmm, that’d be … Harry two nights, and … oh, yeah, Hilary the other two.” From the guy’s tone of voice Hilary was apparently a babe.

“What time do they come on?”

“Whoever it is tonight would be comin’ on at eleven tonight. Leaves at 7:00
A.M.
You’ll catch ‘em any time between there.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Don’t let ‘em hit ya for more than a sawbuck. It ain’t worth more.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.”

I started out, stopped at the door and turned back.

“Where would I go to talk to the police who handle this area?”

“That’d be the West Los Angeles Station. You want directions?”

“How much will it cost me?”

He made a face and said, “Up to you. I trust ya to do the right thing.”

He wrote the directions down for me.

I gave him a fin.

M
ARILYN’S NEW HOUSE WAS
in Brentwood, which was very high-end. We got off 405 at Wilshire Boulevard, which became West San Vicente Boulevard, and took that to South Carmelina Avenue. That took us to Marilyn’s street, 12305 Fifth Helena Drive. When we got there Jerry parked in front and turned off the engine.

“Now what?” he asked. “We go in?”

“We should’ve called first,” I said. “We’re liable to scare her.”

“If she’s even there,” he said. “Maybe she’s makin’ a movie.”

“Let me go in alone, first,” I said.

“Aw, Mr. G….”

“I just don’t want to scare her, Jerry,” I said. “Once I’m in and see that she’s fine, I’ll call you in.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” I said, getting out of the car, “I promise.”

All the streets running off of Carmelina were known as the “Numbered Helenas.” They were all dead ends. Marilyn’s house was a Spanish hacienda-style with a red-tiled roof, white stucco
walls, and casement windows. There was also a pool, and small guesthouse. The gate, given Marilyn’s state of mind, was oddly open. I walked up the drive to the house, which looked kind of small by Hollywood standards.

I approached the big arched doorway, and rang the bell. There was a small window in the door, only good for peering out. I saw blond hair, then a blurry face. I thought the dense glass had made the face blurry until she opened the door a crack. Okay, her face wasn’t blurry, but her eyes were.

“Eddie?”

“Yes, it’s me, Marilyn. Eddie.”

She swung the door open and threw herself into my arms. My arms were filled with lush, soft female and my body reacted. I was embarrassed—which was new for me. I didn’t want her to think that all I wanted was what every other man wanted. I pushed her away, held her by her shoulders, and made like I was looking her over. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, no shoes.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I—yes,” she said, touching her hair, “I suppose so.” She had no lipstick on, and I was so used to seeing those bloodred lips that they looked paler than pale. The bottom one also looked as if she had been biting it.

“Come in, Eddie, come in.” She grabbed my wrists and started to pull me in.

“Marilyn, somebody’s with me. Can I bring him in?”

“W-who is it?”

“It’s a friend of mine—a big guy named Jerry. He’s sort of like a bodyguard.”

“For me?” Her eyes went wide.

“Well, actually for me. Look, he’s harmless, nice … and he’s a real fan.”

“Eddie … I look awful.”

“You look great.”

And she did. Even pale and trembling she oozed sex. She couldn’t help it.

“You bring him in,” she said. “I’m gonna touch up.”

“Marilyn—” But she ran inside.

I went back down the walk and waved to Eddie, signaling him to bring the car up the drive. When he got past the gate I made him stop so no other car could get by.

“That gate should be closed, Mr. G.”

“When we get inside we’ll find out how to close it. Come on.”

He stopped moving.

“Inside?”

“That’s right.”

“Marilyn’s house?”

“Yeah.”

“B-but … is she home?”

“Yeah, she’s home,” I said. “Come on, the front door’s open and I wanna go in.”

“Mr. G.,” he said, “we been drivin’ a long time.”

“You can freshen up inside, Jerry,” he said. I suddenly became aware that I was kind of rank myself. “We both can.”

I led him through the front door. It was a small, one-story house with an attached garage and a cathedral ceiling.

“Wow,” Eddie said.

I assumed Marilyn was still in her bedroom, so I found the bathroom and Jerry and I took turns cleaning up. Eventually, we were both back in the living room, waiting for Marilyn.

“What do I say when she comes out?” Jerry asked.

“Try hello, big guy.”

It took several more minutes but Marilyn finally breezed into the room. Her red mouth was lushly in place, her hair combed and gleaming. She was still wearing jeans and the sweatshirt, but the shirt had artfully slid off one rounded, pale
shoulder. She was once again the Marilyn of every man and boy’s wet dream. For me she was Sugar Kane Kowalczyk of
Some Like It Hot
.

“Marilyn, this is my friend, Jerry.”

Jerry opened his mouth but nothing came out. He was staring. I’d never seen the big guy so dumbstruck.

H
ELLO, JERRY,” MARILYN SAID
pleasantly. She walked up to him and put out her hand. Jerry still didn’t say a word, but he shook her hand, engulfing it in his.

“Eddie told me you’re a big fan.”

“Uhh, yes, ma’am.”

“I’m always so happy to meet a real fan.”

“Oh, I’m a real fan, ma’am,” Jerry assured her. “I loved you as Kay in
River of No Return
and as Cherie in
Bus Stop
.”

“Bus Stop,”
she said. “That was hard. I got bronchitis during the filming, but I did perfect that Texas-Oklahoma twang.”

“You sure did,” Jerry said. “That was a great performance.”

“River of No Return
was a bad movie,” she said, “but I loved working with Robert Mitchum.”

“It may not have been a good movie,” Jerry said, “but it’s one of my favorites.”

“You’re sweet,” she said, and then looked at me. “I like him.”

“That’s good,” I said, “because he’s gonna be around for a while.”

“He is?”

“I am?” Jerry asked.

“Before we get to that, Marilyn, do you know a man named Danny Bardini?”

She frowned, putting a pretty little wrinkle in the smooth skin of her forehead.

“No, I don’t. Should I?”

“He’s a friend of mine, a private eye,” I said. “He was keepin’ an eye on you for me.”

“Following me?”

“Only from Tahoe to here,” I said.

“I thought you were going to help me,” she said, “not some friend of yours.”

“Mr. G. had to go to a funeral,” Jerry said, before I could say a word. “His mother died.”

“Oh, Eddie.” She put her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “I only had Danny watching you until I got back.”

“Well, he never came up to me,” she said.

“Did you feel someone was watching you these past few days?” I asked.

“Well, I did … maybe it was him?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe he saw who was watching you.”

“Can you ask him?”

“That’s just it,” I said. “He’s missing.”

“Missing?” she asked. “W-what does it mean?”

“It means I think Jerry should stay in your guesthouse until I find out what’s going on.”

“What about you?” Jerry asked. “You need me to watch your back.”

“Jerry, right now I think I need you to watch out for Marilyn,” I said. “If somethin’ happened to Danny—”

“Can’t you stay, Eddie?” Marilyn asked, grabbing my arm.

“I’ll come back,” I promised. “It may take me a few days to
find Danny, but I’ll come back each night. Meanwhile, Jerry will stay with you. Are you working right now?”

“No, we’re still having some problems with that script, so I’m just … staying around here.”

And drinking, I thought, maybe worse. I’d have to have Jerry keep an extra-careful eye on her.

“Can’t Jerry look for your friend?”

“No,” I said, “he’s my friend, my responsibility. I sent him here. If anything’s happened to him it’s my fault.”