You're nobody 'til somebody kills you

Twenty-five

We pulled up in Marilyn’s driveway. Stanze allowed me to go in first and prepare her. He had heard that she was “fragile.”

I went to the door and rang the bell.

“Eddie-” she said when she opened it, but I grabbed her shoulders, pushed her inside and closed the door behind us.

“Marilyn, where’s Jerry?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” she said, eyes wide. “He made me these fantastic grilled cheese sandwiches. He’s a great cook-”

“Let’s go in the kitchen.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Tell you in a minute.”

“Hey, Mr. G.,” Jerry said when we walked in. “You want something to eat?”

“No, Jerry. Listen up. I’ve got a cop outside. A detective. I checked with the LAPD and they have no record of arresting Danny. Also, he’s not in the morgue. This detective is being very helpful, and he believes what I’m tellin’ him.”

“Why wouldn’t he, Mr. G.?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I said. “Right now I think you should go out the back to the guesthouse and stay there. We’ll keep you being here to ourselves, as insurance.”

The doorbell rang.

“We need insurance, Mr. G.?” Jerry asked.

“We might, Jerry. Somethin’s goin’ on. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Okay, Mr. G., whatever you say.”

Jerry went out the back door.

“Should I let the detective in, Eddie?” Marilyn asked.

“I’ll get it, Marilyn,” I said. “Listen, you can tell this man the truth, just don’t mention Jerry, okay?”

“I understand, Eddie. How do I look?”

“Like a dream.”

“Oh, Eddie …”

I went to answer the door.

Stanze didn’t want it to show, but Marilyn had the same effect on him that she had on all men, especially in person.

“Miss Monroe, I just need to verify a few things that Mr. Gianelli has told me, and then ask you a few other questions. All right?”

“Okay.”

He looked at me. “No offense, but I’d like to do this alone.”

He didn’t want me coaching her.

“No problem. I’ll wait in the kitchen. You, uh, want a grilled cheese sandwich, Detective?”

“No, thanks.”

I went into the kitchen. The sandwiches had cooled off, but they were still good.

Marilyn told me later how the interview had gone down …

“Mr. Gianelli tells me he met you through Dean Martin. Is that true?”

“Yes, it is.”

“You’re friends with Mr. Martin?”

“Yes.”

“Ma’am, I really don’t mean to offend you, but-”

“Dino and I are just friends, Detective,” she said. “I do have men in my life who are just friends.”

“Like Eddie?”

“Yes,” she said, “exactly like Eddie.”

“Okay,” he said.

They went over Marilyn’s problem about her feeling she was being watched. Also, the way she felt about being blamed for Clark Gable’s death.

“Well, that’s just silly,” Stanze said. “I read about him doing his own stunts. He was too old to be doing that stuff.”

“I know,” she said. “We tried to tell him …”

“We?”

“Me and Kay, his wife.”

“I see. Now, Mr. Gianelli tells me you never saw his friend? Danny?”

“No, sir. I guess he was very good at his job.”

“Um, yeah … have you seen anyone watching your house lately?”

“No.”

“Following you?”

“I haven’t been out in days.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “I guess I don’t want to be followed.”

“So you feel if you go out someone will follow you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t mean, like, photographers?”

“Oh, no. They’re always there. No, I mean … someone else.”

“Like who?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know. Just somebody.”

“Miss Monroe, what is Eddie Gianelli supposed to do for you?”

“Protect me,” she said. “Make me feel better.”

“Why would Dean Martin ask him to do that for you?”

“He and Dino are good friends,” she said. “And Dino, if he came around me, that would just attract more attention. Do you see? And people would get the wrong idea. Like they always do.”

“I see,” he said. “I do.” He closed his notebook. “Ma’am, do you want to make a report about being followed?”

“Oh, no.”

“Why not?”

“The studio wouldn’t like it. I’m supposed to start a shoot soon, and they wouldn’t like the publicity.”

“Ma’am, there’s a man missing, and you could probably use some protection.”

“Oh, but I have-” She stopped short, realizing she’d almost said she had “Eddie and Jerry.”

“You have what?”

“I have Eddie.”

Stanze had a few more words for me after questioning Marilyn.

“Look,” he’d said, “I know something’s going on, I just don’t know what. I’d like to believe you don’t know what, either, and that you’re not keeping anything from me.”

“We’ve told you everything.”

“No offense,” he said, “but it’s my experience that no one tells the cops everything.”

He started to leave, but had one more question.

“Tell me, why did you have your friend Danny tail Marilyn instead of introducing him and having him travel with her, stay at her house with her?”

“The truth?”

“That would be refreshing for a cop.”

“Danny’s my best friend, but he’s a dog with women. I didn’t want to expose Marilyn to him. I didn’t want him to be tempted.”

“You didn’t trust your own friend with Marilyn Monroe?”

“I’ve never trusted Danny with any woman.”

“Okay,” he said, “I get it.”

He left, telling me he’d be in touch. I told him I’d be in the guesthouse, and we gave him that phone number, which was separate from the main house.

When Jerry came back inside I filled him and Marilyn in about Danny’s motel, and how the clerk denied he’d ever spoken to me before.

“What’s goin’ on, Mr. G.?” Jerry asked. “Why would the clerk tell you he was there, and then tell the cops he never heard of either one of you.”

“Whoever’s behind this doesn’t want the cops to believe anything I say.”

“But why?” Marilyn asked. “And what does it have to do with me?”

“Marilyn,” I said, “the only thing I think we can be sure of is that it all has something to do with you. It begins and ends with you.”

“So … what do we do?” she asked.

Jerry looked at me, expecting me to come up with an answer.

“We have to do something,” I said, “that nobody would expect.”

“Like what?” Jerry asked.

I looked at Marilyn, who was gazing up at me with that Marilyn look, breathing through her mouth.

“We have to take Marilyn away from them.”