You're nobody 'til somebody kills you

Twenty-nine

Marilyn watched in awe as Jerry ate more spaghetti than the three of us combined.

“Oh, my God, Jerry,” she said.

He looked up at her puzzled, then sheepish. “I, um, was hungry, Miss M.”

“And this was only lunch,” she said, looking at Frank, and then me. “What’s he going to do for dinner?”

“I’ll have to worry about that back in L.A.,” I said.

“Do you have to drive right back?” Frank asked. “I have plenty of rooms. You can break in the building.”

“JFK’s wing?” I asked.

“It’s not his until he gets here.”

“When is he coming?” Marilyn asked.

“Not for a few weeks,” Frank said. “I’ve got to get all the work done before he comes.”

“Well,” I said, “we can’t stay. We have to find out what happened to Danny.”

“Do you need any other help?” Frank asked.

I jerked my head at Frank, signaling him to follow me away from the table, leaving Marilyn to watch Jerry eat.

“Frank, I just need you to keep Marilyn safe. I don’t think we were followed, but I don’t know who we’re dealin’ with.”

“I’ve got a couple of bodyguards on full time, Eddie, but I’ll add a few more.”

“Good. I hope it won’t take too long, but-”

“But you really don’t know what you’re doin’,” Frank finished.

“I’m not a detective, Frank, and Jerry, well, he’s …”

“Jerry.”

“Right.”

“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Wait here.”

He went off somewhere into the house, came back and handed me a business card.

“Fred Otash?” I asked. “I know that name.”

“They call him the Hollywood PI,” Frank said.

“Okay, yeah,” I said. “I remember now. I heard Dean mention him once.”

“He’s supposed to be good,” Frank said. “I haven’t used him, but somebody gave me his card at a party, or something and I threw it in a drawer. I don’t remember who gave it to me.”

I didn’t totally believe that. If he’d tossed it in a drawer when somebody gave it to him, how would he have been able to find it so quickly? But if he didn’t want to tell me something, that was his business.

“Okay,” I said, “if I decide I need help I’ll give him a call.”

“And keep in touch. Lemme know what’s happening.”

“You’ve got enough going on here, Frank.”

“You said it. I just want it to be perfect for Jack, ya know?” he said. “But I do need a distraction once in a while.”

I wondered if that was why Ava had been there, as a distraction.

We went back to the table and I said, “Hey, Jerry, you done?”

“Done,” he said, then added, “for now. Thanks for the spaghetti, Mr. S.”

“Sure thing, Big Jer.”

He and Frank headed for the door. I hung back and took Marilyn’s hand. We walked to the door slowly.

“You’ll be okay here for a while,” I said. “It may be awkward with Frank-”

“It’s okay, Eddie,” she said. “I know Frank is done with me.”

“Like I said, it’ll only be for a while. But do me a favor, will you?”

“What?”

“Don’t call anybody, don’t tell anybody where you are.”

“Not even my agent?”

“Call your agent once, tell him you’re okay and you’ll be in touch,” I explained. “Don’t make any other calls. Not to anyone!”

“You think somebody may be … listening?” she asked. “You think Frank’s being … bugged?”

Actually, I was afraid she was being bugged-her house, her agent-but given Frank’s involvement with JFK she might have a point.

“No matter who’s listening … just don’t call anyone, and don’t talk to anyone on the phone but me … or Jerry.”

“Jerry’s so sweet.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, “he’s just a great big teddy bear.”

At the door she gave the great big teddy bear a hug and a kiss, then kissed me and whispered in my ear, “Thank you.”