You're nobody 'til somebody kills you

Twenty-three

Detective Stanze took me into an office.

“This is my lieutenant’s office, but he’s not in today,” he said, seating himself behind the man’s desk. He looked uncomfortable.

“Okay, neither body was that of your, uh, cousin, Danny Bardini,” he said, sitting back in the chair. It slipped and he righted himself before he could fall. Further proof that he wasn’t used to sitting there. “You want to tell me about him and what he was doing when he went missing?”

I had been giving this some thought ever since I saw the face of the second dead man and realized it wasn’t Danny. How much to tell the detective? And then I thought, why not tell him everything-except about Jerry.

“Okay,” I said, “I work in Las Vegas at the Sands Hotel and Casino. I’m a pit boss there, but sometimes I’m called on to do special favors for our celebrity customers.”

“You mean like get them tickets to shows, or girls? Like that?”

“Not quite.”

“Go on.”

“You can check this out with a simple phone call to my boss, Jack Entratter,” I said. “I can give you the phone number-”

“If I want to check it out I won’t call any number you give me, Mr. Gianelli,” he said, cutting me off. “I can look up the number for the Sands and call myself. But for now, why don’t you just continue with your story?”

“I was asked by Dean Martin to try to help a friend of his who was having some trouble.”

“What friend?”

I hesitated, then said, “Marilyn Monroe.”

“Dean Martin and Marilyn Monroe,” he repeated.

“That’s right.”

He stared at me for a moment, then said, “Okay, go on.”

I told him how Marilyn felt she was being watched and followed. How I’d asked Danny to keep an eye on her, and then was called away to New York for a funeral. In my absence Danny had followed Marilyn all the way home to make sure she was all right.

“He called his secretary, told her what motel he was staying in, and now he’s missing and she hasn’t been able to locate him.”

“Have you gone to his motel?”

“Yes.”

“And he wasn’t there?”

“No,” I said, “but I talked with the desk clerk and he did check in.”

“And when did the clerk see him last?”

“When he checked in,” I said. “He suggested the night man or girl might have seen him later. I was going to go back later and ask.”

“Where are you staying?” he asked. “At that same motel?”

I hadn’t gotten myself a room anywhere.

“At Miss Monroe’s.”

“In her house?”

“No, she has a guesthouse.”

He drummed his fingers on the desktop.

“Detective, why would I lie about things that can be checked out?”

“Okay,” he said, “sit here a while. Don’t get impatient. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here.”

He left. I knew he was going to check up on me, I just didn’t know how much checking he was going to do. I tried to follow his advice, but it was easier said than done.

Detective Stanze returned in half an hour.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Out to the Starshine Motor Court.”

“Did you check-”

“I called the Sands Hotel,” he said. “It’s only because that checked out that we’re driving out to the motel to check on the rest of it. Come on, you and me. Let’s go.”

In the hallway I said, “I have my car.”

“Good,” Stanze said. “I’ll follow you.”

“Just the two of us?”

“That’s what I said, pal,” he replied. “Just you and me.”

Apparently, he wasn’t going to assign any other men to the job until he knew for sure what the hell was going on.

I was hoping we’d both know that pretty damn soon.