Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Twenty

Nobody called.

Nobody sent a note.

Nobody came to the door.

After Sammy called Frank at about 3 P.M. he told us, “Frank’s gonna meet us at the Sands. We got a front table for Dino’s show.”

“Fine,” I said. “We might as well get back.”

“He got me a room at the Sands,” Sammy said. “I’ll change there. Where’s the driver?”

“Waiting in the lobby, I hope.”

“Call down and have him phone the helicopter pilot,” Sammy said. “I’ll be right with you, and then we can go.”

I picked up the phone. Sammy started to leave the room, then turned and called to Jerry, “Hey, big fella, you wanna sit with us tonight?”

“With you, and Mr. G., and Mr. S.?” Jerry asked. “Sure.”

“Good,” Sammy said. “Joey’ll be there, too. And he might bring Buddy. We’ll make a party of it.”

In a couple of hours Sammy’s attitude seemed to have changed. I chose to look at that as a good thing. Maybe he needed to get out and party a little. Once he was contacted again it would start all over.

Jerry said, “What do we do with the gun?”

I looked at it, still lying on the cloth on the coffee table.

“Nobody’s looking for it,” I said.

“Not yet.”

“When they find the body they’ll start looking for a murder weapon,” I said.

“We can’t let ’em find it,” Jerry said. “It’ll point to Mr. Davis.”

Just for a split second I thought, what if Sammy did it? We’d be covering up for him. But I didn’t really think Sammy Davis Jr. was a killer.

“Mr. G.? Did you hear me?”

“No, Jerry,” I said. “No, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“I said, why don’t we drop it out of the helicopter? Over the desert, or the lake?”

I thought that over.

“Nobody would ever find it,” he added.

“Maybe not,” I said, “but the pilot would be a witness.”

“Good point,” Jerry said.

We both sat there, waiting for Sammy and staring at the gun. Then I remembered and called down to the lobby for the driver.

“There’ll be three of us going to the heliport, Henry.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

“Thank you, Henry.”

When Sammy came out, Jerry and I were still wondering what to do with the gun.

“Why don’t we just leave it here?” he suggested.

“We can’t do that,” I said.

“Why not?” Sammy asked. “Nobody’s looking for it, nobody knows-”

“The blackmailers know,” I said. “If this was an attempt to frame you they could call the cops and give them your name. What if they came here and found the gun?”

“Okay,” Sammy said, “okay, so we just take it with us.”

“I can carry it,” Jerry offered.

“No,” I said, “we have to hide it, or get rid of it.”

“Okay,” Sammy asked, “where?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out.”

We met Henry in the lobby.

“The car is ready, sir.”

“Okay, Henry,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Jerry, Sammy and I got in the backseat, and Henry headed for the heliport.

For a moment I thought about giving the gun to Henry to get rid of, but that would make him a witness-or, at least, an accomplice.

We had wrapped it back up in the hotel and Jerry carried it again now. When we got to Vegas we’d drive out to the desert and get rid of it, I thought, bury it. Bodies had been hidden in the desert for years without being found. Why not a hunk of metal?

“Let’s just go to Vegas,” I’d said in the room, “enjoy Dino’s show, and worry about all of this tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Sammy agreed, “why not? After all, maybe we’ll never hear from them again. Maybe one killed the other and he’s on the run.”

Yeah, maybe, but what about the photo Sammy was afraid of?

What would happen to that?