Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime

Four

“What’s the favor, Frank?” My curiosity was killing me, but I tried to appear cool. It wasn’t easy, though, since I was in a steam room with Mr. Cool, himself.

“A friend of mine has been receiving death threats,” Frank explained. “I want you to find out who’s sendin’ them.”

“You need a private detective for that, Frank, not me.”

“If that’s what you think, then you hire him,” Frank said, “but I want you takin’ care of this for me, Eddie. You pay the detective, and I’ll pay you.”

I figured this must be a pretty good friend of his if he was willing to foot the bill.

“Who recommended me for this?”

“Nobody recommended you for this specific job because I haven’t told anybody about it,” Frank said. “I haven’t even told you the whole story, yet. But Jack speaks very highly of you, and I asked around. Your name always comes up when I tell people I need something done in Vegas. ‘Get Eddie G,’ they say, so I got you. Now ask me the other question you wanna ask.”

“The other question?”

“The obvious one.”

“Oh,” I said, “who is this friend of yours whose life’s been threatened?”

Frank pointed at me.

“Me?”

“On your back, pally,” he said, and I realized he was pointing to the robe I was wearing. “The Dago.”

“Dean?” I asked. “Dean Martin is the man we’re talkin’ about?”

“That’s right,” he said, “Dino.”

“Why would somebody threaten Dean Martin’s life?” I asked.

“Who knows why a wacko does what he does?” Frank asked. “If they were threatenin’ Sammy I’d say it’s because he was black, or a Jew, or both. Joey? Maybe somebody don’t like his jokes. But Dean? He’s a pussycat. Everybody loves the guy.”

“Not everybody, I guess.”

“No, you’re right,” he said, “not everybody.” He leaned forward, put his hands on his bony knees. I always wondered what Ava Gardner saw in the guy, but let me tell you, up close, when you’re in the same room with him, he’s got something. It worked on women better than on men, but it was still there. Sex appeal. Charisma. Whatever you wanted to call it. It made women love him, and men want to be his friend.

“Look,” he said, “we’re filmin’ this picture here in town.”

“Right, Ocean’s Eleven,” I said. “Everybody knows about it.”

“Yeah, well that’s probably part of the problem. Too damn many people know about it. We got a three-week shoot on this thing, startin’ tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you put it off until you can find out who’s sendin’ the threats?” “Can’t,” Frank said, “it’d cost too much money.”

“Then why not give Dean some time off, shoot around him?” I asked. “You do that sometimes in the movies, right? Shoot around somebody?”

“Yeah we do it,” Frank said, “and I’ve suggested it to him, but he won’t have it. He’s not takin’ these threats serious enough.”

“But you are?”

“I’ve had death threats, pally,” Frank said, “and you don’t want to know who from. They’re no fun, and a lot of the times they’re serious.” He picked up a towel that was sitting on the riser next to him and I saw a.38 Smith amp; Wesson. He dropped the towel back down. Now I knew why there was a shoulder holster hanging on a peg outside. I wondered if the steam was bad for the gun. “I pack heat wherever I go now. And yeah, I got a license for it.”

“Why not go to the police?’

“Publicity,” Frank said. “I know, you’re thinking that there’s no bad publicity. If it was me I’d go to the cops and let it get out, but Dean’s a private person. He’s not like me. He doesn’t want to go to the police.”

“Does he know you’re talkin’ to me?”

“No,” Frank said. “If he knew he’d take my head off.”

“Well then, how can I help him?”

“You come to the show tonight,” Frank said. “Joey’ll give you tickets. Bring a dame. After the show Joey’ll take you to Dean’s suite. Once you’re there he won’t toss you out. He’s too much of a gentleman.”

“I get to meet Dean Martin?”

Frank regarded me with an amused look on his face.

“So you’re a fan?”

“Well … yeah …”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Frank said. “I’m a big fan of Dino’s, too. He’s the real deal. I may be a crooner, but he’s a singer. He’s got the pipes.”

I was surprised to hear Frank talk that way about somebody else.

As if reading my mind Frank said, “Does that surprise you, to hear me talk that way about Dean?”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Hey, relax,” Frank said. “Dean doesn’t have a bigger fan than me. He’s so cool he doesn’t care about all this.” He waved his hands to encompass-I assumed-all of Las Vegas. “He’s only doin’ themovie as a favor to me. That’s why I want to help him, why I want you to help him.”

“Frank,” I said, groping for the right words, “I’ll do what I can.”

It sounded lame to me, but apparently it was what Frank wanted to hear.

“Hey,” he said, “that’s all I’m askin’.”