You're nobody 'til somebody kills you

Forty

When we got to Palm Springs Marilyn hugged both of us-but I told myself she hugged me longer and harder.

We had cannelloni with her and Frank and then, while Frank took Jerry to see his Oscar, I sat outside by the pool with Marilyn. We weren’t dressed to go swimming. She was wearing jeans with the legs rolled up her shins and a short-sleeved top. I had on a sports shirt and some chinos. We sat facing each other on two lounge chairs.

“Heard you had some excitement last night,” I said.

“Is that why you came back?” she asked. “To see if I was a mess?”

“I came back to see if you were all right, Marilyn.”

“So you don’t have any news?”

“No, not really,” I said, “but we’ve got somebody workin’ on it with us. A professional.”

“Who?”

I didn’t want to tell her his name. She might have heard of Otash, which meant she might have heard some unflattering things.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s somebody who’s gonna work hard for us.”

“What about your friend, Danny? Any sign of him, yet?” she asked.

“No, not yet.”

She put her hand on my knee. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

I put my hand over hers. “He’ll turn up,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Well, Frank thinks that the prowler last night had something to do with Jack’s visit.”

“He’s probably right, since that’s no secret to anyone.”

“Has anyone been around my house?”

“Not that we’ve seen,” I said.

“Are you staying in the main house?”

“No, out back.”

“Both of you?” her eyes went wide. “Why, that little house is barely big enough for Jerry. Eddie, you stay in my house.” Then she got excited, as if she’d just thought of something. She literally bounced up and down. “Sleep in my bed, Eddie!”

God, a week ago if someone had told me I’d hear those words from Marilyn Monroe …

“That’s okay, Marilyn-”

“Well, sleep on the sofa, then, it’s nice and big. I often curl up on it to watch TV and end up there all night.”

“I can do that,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her we thought her house was bugged, and that’s why we weren’t using it.

“How are you doin’ with Frank?”

“He’s being very sweet, but he’s real busy with the construction. I can’t believe all the work he’s doing. I hope the president appreciates it.”

“I hope so, too.”

“Eddie”-she moved her hand up and down my leg-”I know you’re doing a lot for me already, but could I ask you a favor?”

“Of course you can.” I put my hand on hers to stop hers from moving. I didn’t think she really knew what she was doing.

“It’s about Clark, and people saying I … I killed him.”

“I thought we talked about that, Marilyn.”

“I know, I know we did, but … could you go and talk to Kay for me?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to find out if she blames me … for anything. I don’t care about the newspaper gossips, but I’d hate it if Kay thought badly of me. She and I got along so well on the set. We called Clark ‘our man.’ It would just kill me if she thought I’d ever hurt him.”

“Marilyn, why press it-”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed.

“Please, Eddie. I–I need this. I can’t sleep. I need to know she doesn’t blame me.”

She brought her other hand into play, grabbing mine in both of hers and moving it onto her leg, where she held it tightly.

“All right,” I said, helpless because of the pleading look in her eyes, “all right, I’ll go and talk to her.”

“Oh, Eddie, thank you.”

She threw herself at me, hugging me tightly, knocking me back onto the lounger with her on top of me. Little sister or not, I was very much aware that I had Marilyn Monroe’s braless breasts pressing tightly against me.

“Hey, what goes on out here?” Frank called out.

Marilyn was giggling as she got into a seated position. She adjusted herself and stood up.

“Eddie just made me a very happy woman,” she announced.

Frank looked at me and said, “That didn’t take very long.”

“Screw you, Frank,” I said. It felt good to laugh.