It Was a Very Bad Year

SIX

Jerry drove my Caddy. I’d never seen his big hands be as gentle with anything else as he was with the steering wheel of my car.

We parked down the street from the studio and walked to it. It had a glass front, with a single glass door. In the windows were dozens of photos, presumably taken by Barney Irwin. And smack in the middle was a framed photo of a young Abby Dalton.

‘I guess that answers the question of whether or not he’ll remember her,’ I said, pointing.

Jerry leaned in to look closer at the photo that almost looked like it belonged in a yearbook. Her hair piled up on her head, her long neck leading down to bare shoulders.

‘I think she looks better now,’ Jerry said, straightening up.

‘I agree.’

We went to the door of Irwin Studios and pushed it open.

The inside had a musty smell, and a thin layer of dust on everything. Apparently, Irwin Studios didn’t do much business anymore. Come to think of it, all the photos in the window had an aged look to them.

‘What a dump,’ Jerry said.

I looked around. It hadn’t always been a dump. I could see the rug had cost a pretty penny in its day. Also the wall paneling. There were different size and style picture frames on shelves, but some of them were tarnished.

There was a curtained doorway leading to either a back room or a hallway. The curtain was faded, red and threadbare.

‘Is there a bell for us to ring?’ Jerry asked.

‘I don’t see one, but why don’t we just take a peek behind curtain number three and see what we find?’

Jerry looked around and said, ‘There’s only one curtain.’

‘Jerry-’

‘I‘m kiddin’ ya, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘You of all people know I ain’t that dumb.’

‘Yeah, I do know that. Come on.’

We went to the curtain and I pushed it aside to see a hallway.

I led the way, with Jerry’s bulk crowding behind me. About halfway back we began to hear a voice.

‘That’s it sweetie, that’s it,’ a man said. ‘Now stick it out. Yeah! That’s it. Work it! Work it for daddy!’ At the end of the hall we could see flashes of light coming from another doorway.

We got to the end of the hall, found another threadbare curtain, this one blue. I parted it just enough to look inside. We saw a thickset bald man with a camera, clicking off shots of a naked girl on a small stage. After each shot a spent flash bulb would pop from the camera and hit the floor, and he’d load a new one. She was busty and blonde, showgirl material, and at the moment she was working it for daddy, pushing out her chubby boobs and butt. I always wondered how women could do that without breaking their backs.

‘How do they do that-’ Jerry started to whisper.

‘I know!’

‘Whataya wanna do?’

‘Follow my lead.’

‘OK.’

I pushed the curtain aside and walked through. Jerry was so close behind me that he clipped my heels.

‘Sorry,’ he whispered.

‘Oh!’ the girl said when she saw us, but did nothing to try to cover up. Instead, she seemed to appreciate the audience, and Jerry appreciated the show.

‘Nice tits,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’

The photographer turned around. He was in his sixties, with a gleaming bald head. His once powerful physique had gone to seed, but still had powerful shoulders, while his belly hung over his belt. He was wearing a yellow polo shirt, powder blue trousers, with a white belt and shoes.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

‘My name’s Eddie Gianelli,’ I said. ‘I’m from the Sands.’

‘Oh,’ the girl said, again. ‘Is this the guy you told me about, Barney?’ she asked, in a baby doll voice.

‘Huh?’ Barney Irwin said. ‘Oh, no, baby, he ain’t the guy.’

He must have already promised her she’d meet a guy who would give her a job. Sorry, I thought, not me.

‘Whataya want?’ he asked me, but he was looking past me, at Jerry.

‘We need to talk.’

‘About what?’

‘Abby Dalton.’

‘Abby. .’ He turned to the girl. ‘Get dressed, baby.’

‘Are we done, Barney?’

‘Yeah, baby, we’re done.’

‘When will I get to meet-’

‘Get dressed!’ he snapped. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

‘OK, Barney.’

She stepped down from the stage and trotted off toward another door, and through. We all watched her jiggle until she was gone, then looked back at each other.

‘You remember Abby Dalton, don’t you, Mr Irwin?’ I asked.

‘She was Marlene Wasden when I knew her,’ Irwin said. ‘A pretty little thing. You can see her picture in my window.’

‘But she’s a TV star now,’ I said. ‘Famous.’

‘So she is.’ He walked to a table and set his camera down on it. ‘What’s that got to do with me?’ He started walking around the room, stooping to pick up the spent bulbs.

‘What was that girl’s name?’ I asked.

He straightened and looked at me. ‘Who? Jenny?’ He jerked his thumb in the direction of the door the girl had gone through.

‘You ever take pictures of other girls like the ones you were takin’ of Jenny?’ I asked.

‘Sure,’ Barney said. ‘I got connections. I can get them jobs at the casinos.’

‘As what? Cigarette girls?’

‘Show girls,’ he said. ‘That’s why they come to me. That’s why they pose.’ He dropped all the bulbs into a trash can.

‘And what about Abby? Or Marlene? Did she pose for pictures like those?’

‘Like those?’ Barney asked. ‘No, she was classy, even as a teenager.’

‘So that means no naked pictures of her?’

Irwin turned to look at me.

‘Why are you interested?’ he asked. ‘Why should I talk to you about that?’

‘I’m just askin’ questions, Barney.’

‘Yeah, but why?’ Irwin asked. ‘Say, who sent you here? Who gave you my name?’

‘Ask anybody in Vegas who takes the best cheesecake pictures,’ I said. ‘Don’t they say Barney Irwin?’

Irwin frowned. ‘You tryin’ to do a stroke job on me?’

‘Me?’ I said. ‘Stroke the great Barney Irwin?’

‘Aw, whataya want here?’ Irwin said, growing annoyed. ‘I got work to do.’

‘Got another girl comin’ in?’ I asked. ‘Another young girl to make get naked in front of you?’

‘Hey, I’m an artist,’ Irwin said. ‘All artists use girls as models.’

‘Yeah,’ Jerry said, ‘but most artists got talent.’

‘Hey, I got talent,’ Irwin said. ‘I been in this business a long time.’

‘Yeah,’ Jerry said, ‘we can tell that from all the dust on everything in here.’

‘Oh, that?’ Irwin said. ‘Yeah, I got a woman who comes in — only she’s been sick.’

‘You got any copies of the photos you took of Abby Dalton, Barney?’

Irwin hesitated, then said, ‘That was a long time ago.’

‘Does that mean no?’

‘I’d have to look.’

‘I tell you what,’ I said. ‘If you find any, I’ll buy them from you. Top dollar.’

Irwin got a greedy look in his eyes.

‘Top dollar?’

‘For every photo. And the negative.’

‘I’ll have to look,’ he said, again.

I took out a business card and placed it on a table.

‘Give me a call at the Sands when you find them.’

‘And what about my girls? Like Jenny? What about her? Can you get her a job in your show?’

‘It’s not my show,’ I said, ‘but I’ll see what I can do.’

‘I got lots of girls like her.’

‘I’ll bet you do.’

‘I got plenty of pictures of them.’

‘Just the pictures of Abby Dalton for now, Barney,’ I said. ‘Let’s start there.’