I'm a fool to kill you

SEVENTY-EIGHT

Las Vegas, 2003

After the movies I had the limo take us to Caesar’s Palace. With all the old places gone they had the best coffee shop on the strip.

Jennifer was talking about how much she loved Mogambo. I nodded, but I stared out the widow at the passing marquees: Tom Jones, Danny Gans, Wayne Newton, Rita Rudner, Howie Mandell. Jones and Newton were power houses, but it just wasn’t the same strip. It couldn’t be, not without the guys.

I was wondering if I should tell her the whole story over a snack. Or which parts to leave out? Like sleeping with Ava. I’d never told anyone about that, all these years. How many men would have done that, slept with a Goddess and not told anybody?

I decided to wait and see if she asked. Then I’d make the decision.

We entered Caesar’s with her arm linked in mine. A couple of valets, a doorman, some dealers and pit bosses greeted me by name as we went by.

‘My God, Eddie, this town never forgets, does it?’ she asked. ‘You’re a legend.’

‘You live long enough somebody’s bound to hang that word on ya,’ I said. ‘But the real legends are long gone. . long, long gone.’

‘You miss them, don’t you?’ she asked.

I nodded.

‘I miss them, and I miss my Vegas. I still love this town, but I hate the bells and whistles. Look at this. There are lights everywhere. All the slots light up, the table games have neon signs above them, and then when somebody hits they start to blink. It’s blinding sometimes.’

We got seated in the coffee shop by a young waitress who didn’t know who I was. She treated us like a couple of old codgers who were in a big casino for the first time.

‘Have you ever been here before?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘many times.’

‘Do you need help ordering?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘I’ve been ordering for myself since before you were born.’

‘Eddie,’ Jennifer said, ‘she was just trying to be helpful. You didn’t have to snap at her.’

‘Believe me,’ I said. ‘She didn’t even notice.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘let’s get some coffee and pie, and then you were going to tell me about you and Ava Gardner.’

‘There’s not much to tell,’ I said.

‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

While she looked over the menu I thought back to the last time I saw Ava. .

Sept. 1962

Ava went off with Frank after the events on the roof and I didn’t see her.

The Vegas cops got together with the Chicago cops and discovered that Napolitano’s kid had been hit. They still didn’t know if it had been Giancana’s men, or somebody else, but what we did know was, it hadn’t been Ava — even though she had been there.

They found a witness — a bell boy — who put Ava with the Napolitano kid in that hotel room. Danny had determined that by that time she’d been wandering around for most of the lost hours in an alcohol induced stupor. Spain to New York to Chicago. .

The kid had apparently been killed in the room, and Ava left to take the rap. With his blood on her, the cops figured she’d been set up. But she had come to, panicked and ran. If she’d stayed she might have been cleared. Turns out the detective in Chicago didn’t buy the kid’s death as anything but a hit. They were looking for a woman who’d been seen with him, but Ava had done a good job of keeping her face hidden. Or the bell boy had just been too young to know who she was. And whoever the killers were, they probably hadn’t recognized her, either, because at the end of a forty-hour bender she wouldn’t have looked like Ava Gardner. Somehow, Napolitano knew about her, though, and blamed her for the death of his son. So he kept sending his men after her, until he actually came himself.

But in the end both the law and Napolitano were convinced of Ava’s innocence. The Chicago cops had even accepted a statement taken from Ava by the Las Vegas police. There wasn’t much, because she still had holes in her memory. They might come back some day, but she probably hoped not.

I still didn’t know why the manager of the Beverly Hills Hotel had been killed. Obviously, he’d called somebody about Ava being there. The beating Larry the cab driver had taken had been meant to scare me off. Why kill the manager, but leave me alive? Not all the questions ever get answered.

I was in my pit two days later when I saw Ava walking across the floor towards me. I went to greet her.

‘Eddie,’ she said. She embraced me warmly, then kissed me on the mouth. My lips and toes tingled. Dealers and gamblers were staring. Let ’em.

‘I’m leaving and wanted to say goodbye. And thank you. The police said by keeping me ahead of Napolitano’s men you managed to keep me alive.’

‘Me and Jerry.’

‘Where is Jerry?’ she asked.

‘Took a plane back home yesterday,’ I said. ‘Had to get back to his life.’

‘Life as a leg breaker?’

‘That’s what he’s good at.’

‘I know better,’ she said. ‘So do you.’

‘You may be right. I thought you and Frank-’

‘Two days, Eddie,’ she said. ‘We’ve been together for two days. That’s usually more than enough for us. We had a huge fight this morning, and now I’m off.’

‘To where?’

‘Back to Spain.’

‘To make more movies?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Right now that doesn’t seem so important’

‘What does?’

‘Finding the fountain of youth, I guess.’

‘Ava-’

‘Don’t say it.’ She covered my mouth with her hand. ‘I’m forty, Eddie, and it’s only going to get worse. I’ll have to find a way to live with that.’

‘How are your memories?’

‘I think some of it’s coming back,’ she said. ‘In fact, I’m afraid it is. I see a face, in bed with me. . and blood. .’ She shook her head, as if to dispel the memories.

She gave me a powerful hug.

‘You come and see me in Spain,’ she said. ‘We’d have a helluva time together.’

‘For how long?’

‘Who knows?’ she asked. ‘Maybe two days?’