Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand) (13 page)

“Okay, Richard, thanks,” I said.

“Sure thing, Mr. Gianelli.”

“Eddie,” I said, “it’s just Eddie.”

“I hear folks call you Eddie G,” he commented.

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Okay, Eddie G,” he said, “let me know if you need anything else.”

“This’ll do it,” I said, indicating the beer. “Just let me have a check.”

“Do you usually pay for drinks?”

“Kid,” I answered, “I always pay for drinks. It’s a rule.”

“Your rule?”

I shook my head.

“House rule.” It was a Jack Entratter rule. There was no reason any employee should drink for nothing, he always said.

He gave me my check, I paid it, leaving most of it on the bar, and I sipped some more beer.

I went out to the hotel lobby, to the desk. There were a guy and girl on duty. The girl was pretty, but I didn’t know her. I knew the guy. His name was Anthony something. Early twenties, he had just come out of training for his job. Which was probably why he’d caught this late shift.

“Hey, Anthony.”

“Hey, Mr. Gianelli.”

“You got any messages for me?”

“Not that I know of,” he said. “Caitlin, we got any messages for Mr. Gianelli?”

Caitlin turned her dark gaze on me, brushed a lock of auburn hair from her eyes and said, “Nope, I don’t have anything. Sorry, Eddie.”

Crap, she knew my name and I hadn’t known hers. When had we met, I wondered? And why didn’t I remember meeting a doll like her?

“Well, was anybody askin’ for me? Maybe a guy, dark hair, pale skin?”

“Gee, I don’t remember anybody like that,” Anthony said.

“Me, neither,” Caitlin said, coming closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” I said, “don’t be sorry. I just heard a guy was lookin’ for me in the lounge. I guess he didn’t want to find me bad enough to ask out here. Thanks, both of you.”

“Sure,” Anthony said.

“ ’Bye, Eddie.”

I stopped in mid-turn, looked at her and said, “Good-night, Caitlin.”

I wouldn’t forget her name again.

I
WENT TO MY ROOM
, thinking about the guy who’d been trying to find me. A gambler, maybe a regular who needed something from me? Or another man involved in the Sammy Davis Jr. fiasco.

That’s what it had turned into, a fiasco. Four men dead, and I didn’t know exactly what was going on. If Sammy was holding something back I was going to get it out of him tomorrow.

I undressed and got into bed. I found myself wondering what the cops had been doing on my block the night before and, if they were at my house, why they hadn’t come to the Sands looking for me. My old friend—and I use the term very loosely—Detective Hargrove would love to get something on me. Maybe he was trying to make his case before coming for me.

I made a mental note to stop in and see Jack Entratter before heading to Tahoe the next morning. Which meant I was going to have to get up early so I could see Entratter and still meet Jerry in the lobby at nine. I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Front desk.”

“Caitlin?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Eddie Gianelli.”

“Oh, hello, Eddie.” Was there was a warm tone in her voice or was I imagining it?

“What can I do for you?”

“I’d like an early wake-up call,” I said. “Like … six.”

“That doesn’t give you much time to sleep,” she said. “It’s almost one.”

“Five hours should be plenty,” I said.

“Okay, then,” she said. “A six
A.M
. wake-up call for Mr. Eddie G.”

“Thank you, Caitlin.”

“Don’t mention it, Eddie.”

I hung up, turned off the light, pulled the sheet up over me, and wondered again if I was messed up enough that I had met this girl and didn’t remember?

I woke when there was a knock on the door. In a fog, I got to my feet, clad only in boxers, and went to the door. When I reached it I suddenly came awake and wondered if there were cops outside.

I looked out the peephole and, instead of a cop, I saw a girl.

Caitlin.

I opened the door a crack. “Caitlin.”

“Good morning, Eddie,” she said. A sweet smell came off her, as if she’d just recently put on some perfume. “I thought I’d personally deliver your wake-up call.”

“Is it six already?”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “Time to get up. Or …”

“Or what?” I asked.

She smiled enigmatically, making me wait, then said, “Or time to let me in.”

“Wha—”

She pushed on the door abruptly, catching me by surprise, and I was forced back far enough for her to come in.

“Caitlin, I’m in my underwear….”

“I know, Eddie,” she said, “so I guess it’s only fair that I get down to mine.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes as she unbuttoned the white blouse all the front desk girls were supposed to wear.

“Caitlin, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Eddie?” she asked, removing
her blouse to reveal firm, peach-sized breasts in a lacy white bra. “I’m waking you up.”

We both looked down at the same time and saw that she certainly was.

W
HEN I WOKE UP
for the second time, Caitlin was gone. I got into the shower but even when I made it cold the memory of her firm young breasts, smooth strong thighs and agile mouth made me hard again. Even feeling like a dirty old man—she was apparently almost twenty years younger than I was—couldn’t make it go away.

“Damn,” I said. I tried thinking about Jerry waiting for me in the lobby. Yup, that did it. I was able to get dressed after that.

I still had a half hour before meeting Jerry, so I detoured to Entratter’s office. I knew Jack had a house on Charleston Boulevard, but he also had a suite at the Sands. If he slept in the suite he’d be in his office this early.

When I entered the outer office his girl wasn’t there, but I could hear him banging around inside. As I walked in he slammed a desk drawer angrily.

“Good morning,” I said.

“What’s good about it?” He sat in his chair and leaned back. It creaked beneath his weight. “Whataya want, Eddie? You finished with Sammy’s business yet?”

“No, not yet,” I said. “In fact, I’ve got to go to Tahoe again today.”

“You know,” he said, “if I find out you’re takin’ advantage of the situation—”

“Fuck you, Jack,” I said. “Call Frank and tell him Sammy needs to get himself a new boy. I’ve already been through enough shit—”

“Okay, okay, take it easy,” he said, sitting forward. “Christ, kid, don’t lose your temper with me.”

“You know me better than to accuse me of any shit, Jack.”

“You’re right, Eddie,” he said. “I do. I’m sorry. I got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Yeah,” I said, grudgingly, “okay.”

“Go ahead to Tahoe, do whatever you gotta do,” he told me.

I got up to leave.

“Hey, kid.”

I turned.

“What shit have you been through already?”

“Forget it,” I said. “It’s nothin’.”

It was bad enough that Thomas, the driver, had knowledge of the bodies and where we’d hidden them. That made four of us: me, Thomas, Sammy and Jerry. Thomas wouldn’t say a word because he had killed them in front of three witnesses. And the rest of us would stay dummied up.

There was no need to clue Entratter in.

Jerry said, “You’re late,” as I approached him in the lobby. “The limo’s outside.”

“Sorry,” I said, “I got held up.”

“What was her name?”

I looked at him sharply, then realized he didn’t know anything, he was just kidding around.

“Very funny,” I said. “Come on, let’s go.”

We left the Sands and got into the limo for the drive to the airport.

During the drive I thought about Caitlin. My track record with broads was pretty good, but that didn’t mean I was used to young chicks coming to my room, throwing themselves at me.

After we’d made love, once we were lying side by side on the bed, I had to ask.

“Have we ever—”

“No, Eddie,” she said, turning toward me and putting her hand on my chest. “Never before, but maybe again?”

“Sure,” I said, “soon.”

“Soon?” she asked, sliding her hand down beneath the sheet, “or now?”

She took hold of me and, to her delight and my surprise, I was able to say, “Okay, now …”

“You have any breakfast?” Jerry asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“No,” I said, “it’s too early. You?”

“I had somethin’ last night, and then again this mornin’,” he said, happily. “I love this town. Twenty-four-hour room service.”

Like a kid in a candy store.

F
ROM THE HELIPAD NEAR
the Cal Neva we went directly to Harrah’s. I didn’t know if Frank was in his cabin, or at home in Palm Springs, but my only concern at the moment was talking to Sammy.

I knocked on the door to his room and when he opened it I said, “Hey, Sam.”

“Eddie, hey Jerry,” he greeted. “Come on in. I was just having breakfast.”

Jerry closed the door and we followed Sammy to the sofa and sat down in front of a tray of food.

“Pot of coffee here,” he said. “Anybody want a cup?”

“No, thanks.”

Jerry hesitated, then said, “No.”

“You cats wanna fill me in while I eat?”

I told him about moving the bodies, and where to. Also about cleaning my house, but forgetting there was a bullet left in the wall.

“You still don’t know if the cops went in your house or not?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “but if they had I’d’ve expected them to come lookin’ for me at the Sands.”

“You’re probably right. I haven’t heard a thing yet, from anybody,” he said. “Maybe they’ve given up?”

“ ’Scuse me, Mr. Davis?” Jerry said. “I don’t know all that much about what’s goin’ on, but if there’s money involved I doubt the blackmailers would give up.”

“But it looks like things have gone wrong in a big way,” Sammy said.

“All that would do is make them ask for even more,” Jerry suggested.

The fifty thousand Sammy had given me was hidden in a safe at the Sands. I wondered how quick he’d be able to put his hands on more. Even for somebody like Sammy Davis Jr. fifty grand is fifty grand.

“I see,” Sammy said.

“Sammy,” I said, “we need to talk—I mean, seriously talk.”

“About what, Eddie?”

“About what’s really goin’ on,” I said.

It took a lot for me to ask. Even though I counted Dean and Frank as friends, the starstruck aspect of our relationship hadn’t gone away. It was even more so with Sammy. We were more acquaintances than friends at this point; I had tremendous respect for him as an entertainer, but this was a conversation that was going to have to take place man to man.

And I hoped I wasn’t about to piss him off.

S
AMMY PUT DOWN HIS FORK
. He finished chewing what was in his mouth before speaking.

“What are you sayin’, Eddie?”

“I’m saying that there may have been some stuff before that was none of my business, but that’s all changed now. Too many people are dead. What’s goin’ on, Sam?”

Sammy sat back on the sofa. He looked as if he was trying to decide how to play this. He could get angry and tell me to leave, or he could try telling the truth.

“I have this hobby,” he said, finally.

Did I want to hear what his hobby was?

“What kinda hobby?” Jerry asked.

“Photography,” Sammy said. “I like to take photos. It started when Jerry Lewis gave me a camera as a gift a few years ago. Then, when I was doing
Mr. Wonderful
in New York I met Milt Lewis and he taught me a little bit about the proper lighting, angles and such. I got to be pretty good at it.”

Sammy stood up and began pacing.

“I started carrying cameras with me everywhere,” he went on. “Taking pictures of everyone.” He turned and looked at me. “I even have some shots of you, from last year.”

That surprised me, because I never saw him with a camera.

“You got any pictures of me?” Jerry asked.

“No,” Sammy said, “not you, big guy. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Jerry said. “I don’t like havin’ my picture took.”

“Are you serious?” Sammy asked. “Man, that’s like bein’ immortalized for all time. You get your picture taken it’s like you’ll look like that forever. Frozen in time. You know what I mean?”

I looked at Jerry, who was staring at Sammy with no expression on his face.

“I don’t know if I want to always look like this,” he said, finally.

Sammy stared at Jerry for a few seconds, then smiled, genuinely amused.

“I can dig you, man,” he said, laughing. “I don’t know if I wanna look like this forever, either.”

They both looked at me.

“Hey,” I said, “I like the way I look now.”

Sammy and Jerry shrugged and then Sammy walked over to the window and stared out. I knew he could see the marquee with his name on it. I noticed driving in that underneath
SAMMY DAVIS JR
. they had added
SPECIAL ADDED ATTRACTION LAURINDO ALMEIDA
. I knew he was a Brazilian classical guitarist. Years later, in 1966, they’d make an album together, but who knew that then?