It Was a Very Bad Year

FIFTY-FIVE

To my surprise Hargrove agreed to meet. He picked the place, though. When we pulled up in front we realized what it was.

‘A cop bar,’ Jerry said.

‘That’s great.’

‘Wanna shitcan it?’ Jerry asked. ‘Make him pick someplace else?’

I thought a moment. ‘No, let’s do it.’

We got out of the car and walked into the bar. I didn’t know at the time if he had said anything to the others in the place, but it felt like they were all looking at us while we walked to the booth he was in. It reminded me of Clipper’s, Irwin’s hangout.

He was sitting alone, no partner. He looked as if he had come straight from work, still had on his suit, but no tie and his collar was open. It was probably the first time I’d ever seen him without a tie.

‘You brought your friend,’ he said. ‘Good. I won’t have to go lookin’ for him. Have a seat.’

Jerry slid into the booth first, and I followed.

‘Beer?’

‘Sure.’

He waved at the bartender, held up three fingers. The man immediately came over and laid down three mugs.

‘All these guys cops?’ I asked, looking around.

‘Cops, or ex-cops.’

‘They know who we are?’

‘No,’ Hargrove said, ‘but that don’t mean they won’t tear you apart if I say so.’

‘And why would you do that?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Hargrove said. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got on your mind?’

I sipped my beer, made him wait.

‘You find your killer yet?’ I asked.

‘Not yet. We did find a couple more witnesses, though.’

‘Witnesses to what?’

‘Two men — one your size, and one his — ’ he nodded at Jerry — ‘seen around a photography studio on South Decatur, where our victim sometimes worked.’

‘Worked? As what?’

‘We don’t know,’ Hargrove said, ‘we can’t seem to find the photographer.’

‘And I’ll tell you why.’

I hadn’t yet decided what I would tell him about how we came to find the slip of paper with all the names on it. But since I’d given the information to the Los Angeles DA already, I figured there’d be no harm giving it to Hargrove. After all, I still wanted to find Barney Irwin, and whoever killed Wayne. And if we could find the two knuckle-draggers who worked me over, even better.

‘I just got back from LA, where I helped recover Frank Sinatra Jr. from his kidnappers.’

‘Is that a fact?’ Hargrove asked. ‘You’re a regular fuckin’ hero, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, he is,’ Jerry said.

‘Hey, it talks,’ Hargrove said.

‘Detective, why make him mad?’ I asked. ‘He could do a lot of damage in here.’

‘And get his ass shot.’

‘Be worth it,’ Jerry said.

Hargrove stared at Jerry for a few moments, but the big guy never even blinked. The detective looked back at me.

‘I can get a witness to ID both of you idiots in a heartbeat,’ he said. ‘Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.’

‘Because I don’t wanna be a hero,’ I said, ‘but I can make you look like one.’

‘How?’

This was where I took a chance. I brought the slip of paper out of my pocket and put it on the table.

‘What’s this?’

‘Frank Jr. was kidnapped from Lake Tahoe and taken to Canoga Park,’ I said, pointing to those words on the page. ‘He said he was grabbed by three men named Barry, Joe and John — or Johnny. The photographer your victim, Wayne, worked for is named Barney Irwin. He has a brother named. .’ I tapped the name on the paper. ‘. . Johnny.’

Hargrove looked at the paper again, this time more intently.

‘You’re telling me this photographer, Irwin, was involved in the kidnapping?’

‘At the very least he knew about it,’ I said. ‘And his brother was involved.’

‘What about this date? The twenty-second? The day JFK got hit.’

‘I think that might have been the original date they were gonna grab Frankie. The assassination changed their minds.’

Hargrove picked the piece of paper up for the first time.

‘Where did you get this?’

‘If I tell you,’ I said, carefully, ‘I don’t wanna get pinched.’

‘Me neither,’ Jerry said.

Hargrove chewed on the inside of his cheek for a few moments.

‘If this leads me to my killer,’ he said, ‘and Irwin, and it turns out he was involved in the kidnapping, you guys are off the hook.’

‘I got that out of Irwin’s desk, in his studio.’

‘What were you doin’ there?’

‘A favor for a friend.’

‘After the murder?’

‘Before,’ I said, ‘way before.’

‘What was the favor?’

‘That’s not on the table,’ I said.

‘Gotta be discreet with your show-business friends, huh?’

‘I don’t wanna get arrested,’ I said, ‘and I don’t wanna lose my job, either.’

‘I’m gonna keep this,’ he said, tapping the paper with his finger.

‘Go ahead. I copied it.’

He put it in his pocket, drank some beer.

‘If this pans out, I’ll forget about breaking and entering and tampering with evidence,’ he said. ‘But I can’t forget about murder, if you had anythin’ to do with it.’

‘We didn’t,’ I said. ‘I guarantee it.’

Hargrove looked at Jerry.

‘You,’ he said, ‘don’t leave town.’

‘Why would I?’ Jerry asked. ‘I love Vegas.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Now get out of my bar. You’re makin’ me look bad.’

‘One more thing.’

‘What?’

I told him about the two torpedoes who worked me over in Reno. I didn’t mention that Jerry had to kill three in Brooklyn.

‘I think Irwin sent them after me.’

‘Describe ’em.’

I did.

‘Ring a bell?’ I asked.

Hargrove sat back in his chair and regarded me for a moment.

‘Sounds like the Rienza Brothers.’

‘Italians?’ Jerry asked.

‘Working for Irwin,’ I said.

‘They work for anybody who’ll pay the freight,’ Hargrove said. ‘OK, I’ll look into them, too. Now will you leave?’

‘We’re gone,’ I said.

‘Remember,’ he said, ‘don’t leave town.’

I paused getting out of the booth.

‘Now what?’

‘Might have to go to LA to see Frank,’ I said. ‘And the LA County DA wants to talk to me.’ I was stretching the truth.

‘Yeah, OK,’ Hargrove said, ‘if that happens, call me and let me know.’

‘You got it.’

I slid out of the booth and Jerry followed me. As we walked to the door we were the center of attention, again. Or rather, Jerry was. My guess was they could always tell somebody who wasn’t working the same side of the street as they were.

Outside Jerry said, ‘Don’t make me do that again, Mr G.’

‘Do what?’

‘Go in a cop bar.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, looking back at the door, ‘let’s neither one of us ever do that again.’