I'm a fool to kill you

FORTY-FIVE

I left a message for Dean. I also told the front desk where I’d be: on the casino floor, even though I was technically off duty.

I strolled through the casino, talking to some of my regulars, patting the butts of some of the waitresses — which was allowed back then — exchanging greetings with a celebrity or two; Nat King Cole, for one, who had come in right after Frank and Dean.

We talked a few minutes and he said, ‘Hey, I understand Tony LaBella’s going to be in the lounge. Now, there’s a cat with some pipes.’

‘I bet he’d love for you to come and see him, Nat.’

‘You know what, Eddie? I’ll do that.’

It was because of Frank and Dean that Sammy Davis, Nat Cole and other black performers were being allowed to stay in the same hotels they played. Just one way they had changed Las Vegas.

I had just finished talking with Nat when one of the desk clerks came up to me and said, ‘Mr Martin picked up his messages, Eddie. Says you should come on up.’

‘Thanks, Harry.’

I walked back to the lobby with him, then took the elevator up to Dean’s suite.

Mack opened the door and said, ‘Come on in, Eddie. He’ll be right out.’

He walked to the bar.

‘Bourbon?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ I said, ‘rocks.’

He poured a bourbon for me and a ginger ale for Dean. The ever-present comic books were on the coffee table in front of the sofa — Dean’s, not Mack’s.

As he passed me the drink Dean came out, his black hair wet from a shower.

‘Hey, Pally,’ he said. ‘Good to see ya.’

He sat on the sofa. Mack walked over and handed him the ginger ale.

‘Thanks, Mack.’ Dean moved the comic books on the table around so he could see the covers. That led me to believe Mack had bought them and put them there for him. I could see a lot of color, but not what the books were. Or maybe I just wasn’t that interested.

‘Why don’t you go on to your room, Mack,’ Dean said. ‘I’ll see you in the mornin’.’

‘Call me if ya need me.’

‘I will.’

Dean waited until the door closed behind Mack’s hulking form.

‘What’s on your mind, Eddie?’

I sat down on one of the stools at the bar.

‘It’s about Ava, Dean. And Frank.’

‘I had a feelin’,’ he said. ‘What’s goin’ on?’

‘I’m really not sure yet, Dean,’ I said. ‘I’m tryin’ to find out, but I’ve got a problem that only you can help me with.’

He looked up from the comic books and said. ‘What‘s that?’

‘I’ve got Ava stashed away someplace safe-’ I started.

‘She needs to be stashed?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, we think so.’

‘We?’

‘Me, Jerry and Ava.’

‘Ah, Jerry,’ he said. ‘I shoulda figured he’d be involved, too. OK, go ahead. Sorry I interrupted.’

‘Well, the simple fact of the matter is, I’ve got her hidden away someplace safe and she doesn’t want Frank to know where that is.’

Dean sat back on the sofa, sipped his ginger ale and said, ‘Oh.’

I put my drink down on the bar.

‘Dean, Ava doesn’t want her troubles to spill over on Frank.’

‘What exactly are her troubles, Eddie?’

I explained about the lost hours, about the cab driver getting beat up by somebody who thought he was me, about being followed.

‘She’s afraid she’s done something. . bad, something that would bring her terrible publicity. . or worse, something she couldn’t live with. If there is bad publicity it might affect Frank. She doesn’t want that.’

‘Can’t say I blame her.’

‘I don’t want to lie to Frank,’ I said.

‘So you want me to lie to him?’

‘No, sir,’ I said. ‘I want you to tell Frank the truth, and get him to accept it.’

Dean crossed his leg, drank some more ginger ale and considered my request.

‘I tell you what I’ll do, Pally,’ he said, finally. ‘You tell Frank the truth, and then I’ll try to get him to accept it.’

I picked up my drink, finished it, put the glass down and said, ‘I guess that’s fair.’