It Was a Very Bad Year

THREE

I had veal, Abby had chicken.

Once we had dinner in front of us, with a glass of red wine each, I asked Abby to tell me what the problem was.

‘I’m being. . harassed.’

‘By who?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

‘What form is this harassment taking?’ I was already thinking that maybe she’d get more help from my private eye buddy, Danny Bardini.

‘Phone calls, mail-’

‘What did you get in the mail?’

She fidgeted in her chair.

‘Years ago, when I was first starting out, I had some. . pictures taken,’ she said, nervously.

‘OK, let me stop you,’ I said, wanting to ease her discomfort. ‘I don’t need to know what kind of pictures, and I don’t need to see ’em.’

She breathed a sigh of relief and said, ‘You’re making this a lot easier.’

‘That was my intention.’

‘Thank you.’ She paused for a piece of chicken and I watched with pleasure as she chewed. I don’t usually enjoy watching people eat — it’s pretty ugly most of the time, people shoveling food into this big hole in their face — but hey, this was Abby Dalton.

‘Somebody — probably from my past — sent me a copy of the photo. . photos. They then called and just sort of. . gloated.’

‘No blackmail?’

‘No,’ she said, then after a pause, ‘not yet, anyway.’

‘But you are expecting a demand.’

‘Well. . you tell me. Why else would somebody do this?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Just to scare you, maybe? I mean, if these photos got out they’d be. . what? Embarrassing?’

‘At the very least.’

‘Why would someone do this now?’ I asked. ‘Because you’re a celebrity, and you’re on TV?’

‘I was on Hennessy for three years before doing Joey’s show,’ she said. ‘Why wouldn’t they have done it then?’

‘Could someone have found these photos, say, accidentally?’

‘I suppose. .’

‘Who were they taken by?’

‘A professional photographer.’

‘And what does he have to say?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I. . I haven’t spoken with him.’

We paused for a couple of bites each. It was a shame we weren’t paying attention to the food. It was very good.

‘Joey told me you helped Sammy a couple of years ago when he had a similar problem.’

I didn’t know how similar Sammy’s situation was, and I couldn’t really comment on it, but it did involve — in part — some photos of his wife, May Britt.

‘I know you can’t talk about that,’ she said, ‘but I was hoping you would be able to help me, too.’

‘Why would you ask me for help and not somebody in Los Angeles?’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I didn’t tell you. I was born here in Las Vegas, Eddie. The photos were taken here. I think that’s really why Joey thought of you.’

Well, that made sense.

After dinner we had dessert — cheesecake for me, a cannoli for her — and discussed the situation further.

‘So the photographer was also from here?’

‘Yes, he had a studio here. Eddie, I haven’t checked, or tried to get in touch with him. I can’t — I don’t want to-’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘if he’s still alive, and workin’, I can find him.’

‘Then you’ll help me?’

‘Of course I’ll help you, Abby,’ I said. ‘I mean, I’ll do what I can, but you know I’m a pit boss, not a detective.’

She laughed, her eyes lighting up, and said, ‘Joey says you’re a hell of a detective.’

‘Well, I have a friend who is a real detective, and I’ll get him to help, too.’

‘Wow,’ she said. ‘I feel a lot better. Lighter.’ She looked down at her dessert. ‘I think I’ll enjoy this.’

‘You should,’ I said. ‘It’s very good. You’re staying at the Sands?’

‘I am, for now,’ she said.

‘So how did you get started?’

‘I was a teen model,’ she said. ‘Did magazines and album covers until I started working for Roger Corman.’

‘You know,’ I said, ‘Stakeout on Dope Street and The Saga of the Viking Women and Their Voyage to the Waters of the Great Sea Serpent flies in the face of your wholesome image.’

‘Oh my God,’ she said, putting her hand to her mouth, ‘you saw those?’

‘I watch TV late at night, sometimes.’

‘You know, I hate being called wholesome,’ she said, wiping cream from the corner of her mouth with her forefinger. She didn’t look very wholesome at that moment. ‘And you know what I hate even more than that?’

‘What?’

She leaned forward and said, ‘I hate being called toothsome.’

‘Come on,’ I said, ‘they usually put the word “beauty” after that.’

‘“Toothsome beauty?”’ she said. ‘That sounds like a left-handed compliment.’

‘It’s no left-handed compliment to say that you’re beautiful.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, ‘but you didn’t think so the first time we met, in the Polo Lounge. If I remember correctly, you were with Ava Gardner.’

‘I was. . helpin’ her with a situation.’

‘Ah,’ she said, ‘another damsel in distress. You’re actually Sir Eddie G., gallant knight.’

‘I like to do my part to keep beautiful women happy.’

‘Well,’ she said, sitting back, ‘you’ve made me a happy girl. A wonderful meal, and you’ve agreed to help me. I feel much better than I have in weeks.’

‘This has been going on for weeks?’

‘Eddie,’ she said, ‘this has been going on for months.’