It Was a Very Bad Year

THIRTY

After breakfast I drove to Barney Irwin’s studio and found it closed up. I put my nose against the window, trying to see inside. It looked as I remembered it, dusty and worn out. The windows were thick with grime. It had only been a week, but the place seemed as if it had been deserted for years.

I tried the door, found it locked tight. I went around the back, found that door locked, too. I didn’t have Jerry’s ability to pick a lock, but I knew somebody who did.

I found a pay phone on the street and called Danny Bardini’s office.

I was sitting in my Caddy in front of Irwin Studios when Danny arrived. He stopped his heap behind me and got out.

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

‘I need to get inside.’

‘Why?’

I explained about Irwin’s friend, Wayne, who I had only met once.

‘So you think Irwin killed him and is tryin’ to sic the cops on you?’

‘I don’t know if he killed Wayne,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure he has the balls for that. But he has the balls to call the cops and send ’em looking for me.’

‘So now you’re lookin’ for him.’

‘I just want to ask him.’

‘I thought Jerry said the guy wouldn’t be back.’

‘Irwin’s afraid of Jerry,’ I said. ‘He’s not afraid of me.’

‘OK,’ Danny said, ‘so you want me to pick a lock? In broad daylight?’

‘There’s a back door,’ I said. ‘Come on.’

Danny picked the back door lock — a lot quicker than Jerry had — and we entered.

‘Let’s split up,’ I said. ‘I want to find anything that might tell us where he is.’

‘Right.’

We went through the place, every drawer and closet and corner, and didn’t find a thing. Danny finally joined me back in Irwin’s office. I was standing behind the desk, going through his phone book.

‘What’d you find?’ I asked.

‘Nothin’ but a lot of dirt,’ Danny said. ‘I need a shower after this. What about you?’

‘No, nothing,’ I said. ‘I’ll take this phone book with me. Maybe somebody in here knows where he is.’

‘Nothin’ in the drawers?’

‘No, noth. . Wait a minute.’ I started going through the pockets of my windbreaker.

‘What is it?’

‘Last time I was here, with Jerry,’ I said, ‘I found something — here it is.’

I took the slip of paper I had found, with some names on it, out of my pocket.

‘What’s that?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Here.’

I handed it to Danny to read.

Nov. 22.

Sinatra.

Keenan amp; Amsler.

Barry.

Johnny.

Canoga Park.

‘What’s this supposed to mean?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ I said, ‘but it’s got November twenty-second on it. And Frank’s name.’

‘So what? Do you know who Keenan and Amsler are?’

‘No, never heard of ’em.’

‘And Johnny?’

I shrugged.

Danny handed it back.

‘That makes as much sense as if you’d found a grocery list in his desk.’

I stuffed the paper back in my jacket pocket and said, ‘Yeah, maybe. We better get out of here.’

I took the phone book and we left, locking the back door behind us.

‘What now?’ he asked, as we walked down the alley. ‘You wanna check out his house?’

‘Might as well.’

When we got to our cars he said, ‘You lead the way.’

‘Gotcha!’

We convoyed our way to Irwin’s house.