You're nobody 'til somebody kills you

Thirty-two

When we got back to Marilyn’s house I used the key she gave us to get into the guesthouse. We walked through and out the back door to a small patio.

“Jerry, you’re gonna have to cool it with the gun unless we really need it.”

“I didn’t know they was cops, Mr. G.”

“I know, but how about the second time?”

“The guy just pissed me off.”

“Okay, well, I’ve got to go and see Detective Stanze and try to explain all this. Meanwhile, I’ll have him explain why he’s havin’ me followed.”

“I better come with ya, Mr. G.,” Jerry said. “You’re gonna hafta explain me, too.”

“Let me see if I can deal with it,” I suggested. “I know how allergic to cops you are. If I can’t, then you’ll have to go in and talk to him. I’ll try to keep you out of it, but …”

“I get it. Thanks, Mr. G.”

“Sure. Just stay here, have somethin’ to eat, watch TV. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“You got it, Mr. G.”

A uniformed cop walked me to Stanze’s desk.

“Mr. Gianelli,” he said. “Nice of you to drop by.”

“I assume you heard from your Palm Springs buddies?” I asked. “Dugan and … what was it, Atkins?”

Another cop came walking over, plainclothes, white hair, deep tan.

“Say hello to my partner, Detective Bailey.”

“Dave Bailey,” the man said. “Hey.”

“Let’s go someplace and talk,” Stanze suggested.

“Need me?” Bailey asked.

“Nah, I got it,” Stanze said. “The lieutenant in?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna use his office.”

“He’s gonna catch you one of these days,” Bailey said.

“I’m just tryin’ his chair on for size,” Stanze said. To me, “Come on.”

When we got into the office, he closed the door, walked around and sat in his boss’s chair again. I sat across from him.

“You got ambitions,” I said.

“Who doesn’t?”

“Would you like to tell me why you were havin’ me followed?”

“Followed?” Stanze asked. “Those officers were there for your protection.”

“Protection from what?”

“Or who?” he asked. “How about whoever made your friend go missing?”

“I didn’t ask for protection.”

“No, that’s right, you have your own. Who’s the guy with the gun, Gianelli?”

“What happened to the ‘mister’?” I asked.

“Maybe you can earn it back, comprende?” the detective said. I was willing to bet that was the only Spanish he knew. “Who’s your friend?”

“He came to watch my back.”

“He got a permit for that gun?”

“I’m sure he does.”

“Where’s he from?”

“New York.”

“How’d he get a gun here from New York?”

“In his luggage, I assume.”

“Why didn’t you bring him in with you?”

“Did you want to see him?” I asked. “I thought this was between you and me.”

“What did the Palm Springs detectives tell you?”

“Oh, yeah, they gave me a message for you,” I said. “They said don’t call them again. So tell me, how did they know we were in Palm Springs? Were you havin’ me followed here and your guys lost me?”

“Come on,” he said, standing up.

“Where?”

“Downstairs to see your friend.”

“My friend?”

“Yeah,” Stanze said. “He was picked up ten minutes after you left him at Marilyn Monroe’s house.”

I got to my feet fast. “What the hell for?”

“He pointed a gun at a cop,” Stanze said. “Two cops, as a matter of fact.”

“We didn’t know they were cops,” I said. “They could’ve been the guys who made my friend disappear. Isn’t that what you said? Somebody made him disappear?”

“I’m looking into it,” Stanze said. “What were you doing in Palm Springs?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you took Marilyn Monroe somewhere. Why?”

“She’s a friend of mine,” I said. “I didn’t want any of this spilling over on to her.”

“Look, I assume you were candid with me in our first meeting,” Stanze said. “So you took Miss Monroe someplace safe? What did you do? Put her in a motel?”

“Marilyn Monroe in a motel?” I asked.

“Okay, come on,” Stanze said. “Let’s go downstairs and see your guy.”

“You’re not gonna arrest him, are you?”

“Let’s see if he’s got that permit.”