You're nobody 'til somebody kills you

Thirty-six

"Chinks?” I asked inside. “When did you start callin’ it that?”

Jerry shrugged. “Did it since I was a kid. I probably heard somebody else do it. Why?”

“My grandmother use to call it that,” I said.

We opened all the containers, got some plates and sat down at the table to demolish the food along with bottles of Schlitz. And just in case the house was bugged, we kept the water running in the sink for background noise.

“I was hoping we’d find out something from the desk clerk,” I said.

“Maybe we should go back,” Jerry said. “Maybe the owner was lying.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, “not with your hand on his chest.”

“Well, he’s gotta have a good phone number to reach the guy at,” Jerry said. “It’s gotta be on that card. Maybe we should call it and see?”

“Good idea.”

I swallowed the egg roll I was chewing, went to the phone and fished that index card out of my pocket. I dialed the number. After twenty rings I hung up.

“No answer,” I said, sitting back down. “We’re lookin’ at a brick wall, Jerry.”

I watched Jerry pick up a wonton with his chopsticks. I was using a fork.

“I could never get the hang of that,” I said, indicating his sticks.

“I eat lots of Chinks,” he said.

“So do I. My grandmother-the only member of my family who wasn’t crazy-tried to show me how to use them when I was a kid. She lived in Little Italy and took me to Chinatown a lot.”

“Ya want I should show ya?”

“No, that’s okay,” I said. “I do pretty well with a fork.”

I emptied pepper steak onto my plate and took a swig of beer.

“If this was Vegas I might have some idea about what to do, where to look,” I said, “but I’m out of my element here.”

“What about what you said before?” Jerry asked, dumping a bunch of fried rice onto his plate.

“About what?”

“Hirin’ a PI.” He lowered his voice. “That Otash guy?”

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ about that.”

“We could go see him tomorrow … unless ya wanna ask that detective to recommend somebody.”

“I don’t think we want Stanze knowin’ that we’re hirin’ a PI,” I said. “He doesn’t want us messin’ in his business.”

“But it ain’t his business, Mr. G.,” Jerry said. “It’s your business. But I know what ya mean. Cops always think stuff’s their business when it ain’t.”

“Okay,” I said, “so we’ll go talk to Otash tomorrow. I’ll call Dean first.”

“Whataya wanna call him for?”

“I’m involved because he asked me to be, and Danny’s missin’ because I asked him to help. I’ll ask Dean to call Otash and arrange an appointment. That way we’ll know that he’ll see us.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Mr. G.” He grabbed the fried rice box, then looked at me. “You like the steamed white or the fried?”

“I’ll take the white.”

“Good,” he said, “I like the fried.” He emptied the box onto his plate, then dumped chicken chow mein on top of it.

“I’ll call Dean after we finish eating,” I said. “You want this last egg roll?”

“Sure,” he said, taking it.

Why did I ask?

“Hey, Eddie,” Dean said when Jeannie put him on the phone. I was surprised he was home. I thought Jeannie would have to give me a phone number wherever he was performing. “Lucky you caught me home. I’m heading for Chicago tomorrow to do a show. Is this about Marilyn?”

“It started with Marilyn, Dean,” I said. “Now it’s moved on.”

I’d had to drive three blocks before I found a pay phone, but I didn’t want to call from the house.

I told him what had been going on and asked him about Otash.

“I know Fred, of course,” he said, “but you should know that he’s a hustler. That’s why you see so many of his ads in the paper.”

“A hustler?” I asked. “You mean … he’s on the hustle?”

“No, he’s a con man. He’ll work for anybody who pays him. If he was a lawyer you’d call him an ambulance chaser.”

“But is he any good?”

“As far as I know,” Dean said, “he’s very good. If you need someone who knows his way around California, he’s your man.”

“I need someone who knows somethin’ about findin’ a missing person.”

“Then use him,” Dean said. “You want me to call him?”

“Yeah,” I said, “can you do it first thing in the mornin’?”

“Sure thing. You bringing Big Jerry with you?”

“Yeah, he’s here.”

“Okay,” Dean said, “I’ll tell Fred to expect both of you. I’ll tell him it would be a favor to me.”

“Don’t ask him to do it for free,” I said.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said. “Fred Otash doesn’t work for anybody for free.”

“Okay, thanks. Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah, pally?”

“What did you mean when you said he’d work for any-body?” I asked.

“I meant,” Dean said, “that he will work for anybody.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Okay, thanks.”

“No, thank you, Eddie,” Dean said. “I know I got you into this, which means I got Danny into this. I hope you find him okay.”

I hung up just as my time ran out.