It Was a Very Bad Year

SIXTY-TWO

We got off Frank’s plane the next morning in Vegas and found the cops waiting for us.

‘What’s this about?’ Entratter said aloud as we came down the airstairs.

Frank had Juliet Prowse on his arm, put himself between her and the advancing quartet of uniformed cops.

‘Take it easy, baby,’ he told her.

‘Eddie Gianelli?’ one of them asked as they reached us.

‘That’s me.’

‘You’re comin’ with us,’ he said.

‘Am I?’

‘Under your own power or by force, but yeah, you’re comin’,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘Detective Hargrove wants to see you.’

‘Uh-oh,’ Entratter said.

I knew what he meant. Hargrove had heard about the capture of the kidnappers and he knew that I gave him the information second, not first.

Mickey Rudin came out of the plane and asked, ‘What’s going on?’

‘I think Eddie needs a lawyer, Mickey,’ Frank said. ‘These officers are taking him in. I want you to go with him.’

‘What’s this about?’ Rudin asked anybody who would answer.

‘It has to do with a murder investigation,’ the cops said. ‘That’s all I can say right now, sir.’

‘I’m Mr Gianelli’s lawyer.’

‘Then you might as well come with us,’ the cop said.

‘All right,’ Rudin said, wearily. He looked at Frank.

‘We’ll take your bags to the Sands,’ Frank said. ‘Meet you there.’ Then he looked at me. ‘Both of you.’

‘OK,’ Rudin said.

‘Thanks, Frank,’ I said.

‘Mickey will bring you home,’ Frank said. ‘Don’t worry.’ Juliet gave me a dazzling smile of encouragement over Frank’s shoulder.

‘OK, boys,’ I said, extending my wrists, ‘take me to your leader.’

‘There won’t be any need for cuffs, Mr Gianelli,’ the cops said. ‘We have a car over here.’

I fell into step with two of them. The other two walked behind us.

Back in the same interview room. I could tell because the wall clock had a paint smudge on it, probably from the last time the room was painted.

Hargrove was going to be mad. I knew that. When he saw the news last night, or that morning, he must have hit the roof. He had the cops watching the airport for Frank’s plane, figured I’d be coming back. Now I was going to be back on the stove for the murder of Wayne Whatsisname.

When he came in I was braced for him to be yelling and screaming, red in the face. Instead the door opened and he walked in, all calm and collected. He took off his jacket, hung it over the back of a chair, then sat down at the table across from me. He took the time to light a cigarette, and then rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

‘You fucked me, Eddie.’

‘Did I?’

‘That information you gave me was old,’ he said. ‘Probably only hours old, but old enough for the LA cops to make the pinch.’

‘But that’s good, right?’ I asked. ‘They caught the kidnappers.’

‘Yeah, that’s good,’ Hargrove said, ‘that’s real good. . for them. But I didn’t have anything to do with it. So you know what that means?’

‘What?’

‘You’re back on the hook for Wayne’s murder. You and your big buddy. Where is he, anyway? He wasn’t on the plane with you. I told you guys not to leave town for long.’

‘He’ll be back later this afternoon, on a commercial flight.’

‘That’s good, that’s real good.’

‘What about the Rienza brothers?’ I asked. ‘Are you still holdin’ ’em, or did you let ’em go?’

‘Those two idiots are still in a cell,’ he said. ‘One of their guns came up as being used in a robbery in LA. We’re still checking on the other one.’

‘How do they look for Wayne?’

‘They have alibis,’ Hargrove said, ‘but we’re still checking those out.’

‘How come you never asked me for my alibi?’

‘Because I knew you’d have one. Probably unbreakable. That wouldn’t mean you didn’t do it.’

‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That’s quite an attitude for a detective to take. That could apply to anyone.’

‘Not everyone has your friends, Eddie. For instance, you got a hotshot lawyer outside, makin’ all kinds of noise about wanting me to let you go.’

‘Mickey Rudin.’

‘Yeah, Sinatra’s mouthpiece, right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘That means you ain’t gonna call your buddies, the Kennedys, to get you out this time?’

That had happened some time ago, and it obviously still stuck in his craw.

‘No,’ I said, ‘it means you’re gonna bust my balls for a while and then let me go.’

‘Why would I do that?’

‘Which one? Bust my balls, or let me go?’

‘Both,’ Hargrove said, ‘in any order you like.’

‘Well, you’ll bust my balls because you’re a sonofabitch, but you’ll let me go because you’re a good detective.’

He seemed to be surprised by one of those statements.

‘Eddie, Eddie. .’

‘I didn’t kill Wayne Whatsisname, Detective,’ I said, ‘and neither did Jerry. Let me out of here and I’ll prove it.’

‘Now you’re a detective?’

‘You’re the detective,’ I said. ‘Let’s just call me the assistant detective.’

He studied me for a moment.

‘Whataya say?’