I'm a fool to kill you

FIFTY-SIX

We got the car packed. I was impressed by the fact that Ava only had two bags, but she said they were both almost filled with dirty clothes, so she was reduced to wearing a t-shirt that fit tight across her full breasts, and a pair of tight fitting jeans. She laid off the high heels and wore flats again. Ava Gardner in high heels was an eye catching sight from any distance, and we didn’t want to attract attention. The t-shirt was bad enough. As for her beautiful face she tried to cover that with her big oversized sunglasses.

Jerry wore a sports jacket to cover his.45, and I wore jeans and a windbreaker so I could keep Ava’s little gun in a jacket pocket.

We went out to the car and Ava surprised me by shouting, ‘Shotgun!’

I looked at her and she stuck her tongue out at me.

‘Wherever we’re going,’ she said, ‘I want to have a good seat.’

I was happy to sit in the back, my arms crossed over my chest, deep in thought. In the front seat Jerry and Ava were chattering about nothing. I think she was nervous and he was just going along with her, trying to keep her occupied.

I had a phone number in my pocket that I had only used once before. It kept me out of jail, but was this situation important enough to use it again?

OK, maybe I was making this harder than it should have been. I needed a place to put Ava; one which nobody could trace to her and nobody could trace to me. Putting it in Jerry’s name wouldn’t have helped that much either because he could be connected back to me.

We could have gone to a no-name hotel off the strip and registered under an assumed name, but the three of us would attract attention together, or Jerry would attract attention, or Ava would. I was the only one who wouldn’t be noticed checking into a hotel alone, but I was pretty well known in town. There was a chance somebody would see me and recognize me.

There had to be a way around all of this that didn’t involve leaving town, which was the only other thing I could think of.

That is, until something occurred to me.

‘Jerry,’ I said, ‘pull over by a phone.’

‘Anywhere special?’ he asked.

‘Just a pay phone,’ I said, ‘I’ve got an idea.’

Nobody who was looking for Eddie Gianelli was going to look through Tony LaBella. That was the logic I was operating on.

Frank Sinatra, yeah.

Dean Martin, definitely.

Jack Entratter, logically.

But not Tony.

In the back seat of my Caddy I remembered Tony talking about his cabin on Lake Mead.

‘It’s usually empty when I’m doing shows,’ I remembered him telling me.

Well, Tony was booked into the Sands lounge for the week. That meant his cabin was empty.

When I called Tony and asked him about using his place he immediately said, ‘Anything for you, Eddie.’

‘You talked to Frank?’ I asked, judging from his tone.

‘Yep, he gave me the go ahead. I owe it to you. I might never have asked him.’

‘I’m glad it worked out.’

He had a key on him and told me to come and get it; he’d be rehearsing in the lounge.

I instructed Jerry to drive to the Sands and park behind the building, in the lot.

‘Stay here,’ I told both of them. ‘I’ll be right back.’

I went in through a back door, made my way to the casino floor, and then along to the lounge. Tony was up at the piano with his arranger, going over a song. If I just walked up to him and got the key the whole room would see.

A little redheaded waitress came within arm’s length, so I reached.

‘Sweetie, excuse me.’

She turned, saw me and smiled instantly. What a sweet looking kid, I thought.

‘Hello, Mr G.,’ she said.

‘Oh, you know me?’

‘Well, of course,’ she said. ‘I’m new, but the other girls have pointed you out.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Didi.’

‘Well, Didi, can you do me a favor?’

She took a deep breath which caused her cleavage to swell and said, ‘Sure.’

‘Would you go up to Mr LaBella, up there on stage, and tell him I sent you for his key?’

‘His key?’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you ten bucks-’

‘Oh, that’s OK, Mr Gianelli,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to tip me. The girls have all told me what a right guy you are.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘You’re very popular with the girls.’

‘That’s good to know,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’

‘Oh, sure, don’t mention it.’

She stood there staring at me with wide, green eyes and a big smile.

‘Honey? Could you go and do it? Like now?’

‘Huh? Oh, sure. Sorry.’

She turned and walked right up to the stage. I saw Tony turn as she called his name, then listen, then look around the room. When he spotted me I just nodded, hoping he wouldn’t wave. He nodded back, and handed the girl his key. She said something else to him, then turned and came back to me.

‘Geez, that’s the first time I ever talked to Mr LaBella. He’s sweet.’

‘Yeah, he’s great.’

‘And so famous!’

‘Didi?’

‘Huh?’

‘The key?’

‘Oh.’ She smiled, reached between her breasts and came out with the key. ‘For safe keepin’.’

She dropped it into my palm with a saucy wink. I closed my hand. The metal hadn’t had time to get warm.

‘Thanks a lot, Didi.’

‘Any time, Mr Gianelli.’

‘Just call me Eddie.’

‘OK,’ she said, ‘and you can just call me. . any time.’

I left the lounge and started back through the casino when I saw somebody I didn’t want to see. Detective Hargrove, who disliked me even more than Jack Entratter’s girl did. Every chance he got he tried to throw me in jail — and Jerry, too, if he happened to be around.

There was no way anybody could connect me and Jerry to the shooting of the two Chicago button men, and yet, there was Hargrove. And what other reason could he have to be there?

I had to get out of the building without running into him.