Secrets & Lies (20 page)

T
HE
P
AST

I was really surprised to get that phone call from Judy Cooper. She said she was on her way to Los Angeles, so I guess the old Kelly charm worked after all. Even Christina was impressed when I told her. “I hope you know what you're doing,” she said. Then she added, “I hope
she
knows what she's doing!” Very funny, sister.

When the train pulled into Union Station, I admit my heart was thumping. All I could think about was that night we spent together in my room at the Carlyle Hotel in New York. Judy had a body that wouldn't quit. I wondered how she was going to fit into my life. I hope she wasn't thinking that I was going to be her
boyfriend
or anything like that. That's not my style. But I was willing to help her out, introduce her to some people, talk to Uncle Charlie about the job at Flickers, and so on. And if I got her in bed a few times for my efforts, hallelujah!

Even after traveling for almost a week on a goddamned train, Judy looked fantastic. Absolutely gorgeous. Since her sleeper car was equipped with all the amenities, she said she'd showered and put on makeup just for me. Holy Mother of God, she could be a Hollywood starlet if she wanted. Judy gave me a big hug and we kissed and all that, and then I led her to the Lincoln that my driver had parked in the lot.

“This is Boone,” I said. “I think you might remember him.” She
shook hands with my driver and said in that endearing Texas accent, “Glad to see ya again.” Boone put her luggage in the trunk and we got in the backseat.

Judy asked that we take her to a hotel, but I said, “Nonsense, you're staying at my house.”

“I'm not sure about that, Leo,” she answered. “I mean, I like you a lot, but I'm not shacking up with you.”

It was a relief to hear that, but I pretended to be hurt. “What? You're not going to be my kept woman after all?”

She laughed and said, “Leo, I have to have my own place and my own money. Who knows what the future will bring, but at the start I have to be independent.”

“Don't you worry,” I told her. “I already had Christina make out a list of available apartments that you can see. We'll find you a place to live, but in the meantime, we have a spare bedroom, you'll have privacy, and I promise not to bother you.” Then I winked at her. “Unless you want to be bothered.”

“Leo, you're awful,” she said with a smile, and then she kissed me again.

My split-level house was on Woodruff Avenue, just west of Beverly Glen and south of Sunset Boulevard. I had the ground floor that included my bedroom, bathroom, and a small office. The kitchen and living room was there, too, along with another bathroom for guests. Christina had a bedroom and bathroom upstairs, with a separate entrance on the side of the house by the garage. She also had a balcony on two sides of her floor, and she spent many an evening sitting there with a bottle of vodka. The spare bedroom was on the basement level, accessible from the outside through a door beneath the stairs leading up to Christina's abode.

“Wow, you live in a mansion!” Judy said.

“No, I don't. This isn't a mansion.”

“Are you kidding? I don't think I've ever
been
in a house this big!”

“Honey, it's not bad, and I'm not some lower-class schmuck, but
Christina and I don't live in a mansion, at least by Hollywood standards. Take a look at some of the homes in Beverly Hills and you'll see what I mean. This was my parents' house. My Dad did all right with his business. They lived okay.”

Boone parked in the driveway and we got out. I pointed out Christina's balcony and the stairs to her section. “She likes her privacy,” I said, “so it's best not to go up there.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

I led her inside while Boone carried the bags. We went immediately to her bedroom and she flipped. “Oh, heavens,” she cried. “This is great!” I guess she wasn't used to much, because the only things in there were a bed, dresser, a chair, a little table, and a bookcase full of books. What sold it, I suppose, was the view of the swimming pool out the back window. “You have your own pool?” Judy choked.

“Lots of people do in this town,” I replied.

“You're really a millionaire and you're not admitting it.”

I laughed and said, “I wish that were true!”

“Does Boone live here, too?”

“No, of course not. He lives nearby, though. He's always available when I need him.”

I gave her the tour of my level, showed her where everything was located in the kitchen, and told her to make herself at home. Then I gave her the list of apartments Christina had found. “I've instructed Boone to take you around to look at them when you're ready.” I gave her his phone number. “Just give him a call. If he's not working for me, he's at your service.”

“Leo, I can't thank you enough!” She was so cute; she was like an excited little kid.

Then I told her I had to go away. I hated to leave her alone, stranded, but I was due in Vegas. I was supposed to take Maria to hear Dean Martin at her Dad's casino that night, and I was already running late. Then I had to go to San Diego on business to talk to a railroad company about leasing warehouses. Judy looked disappointed, but she said she understood.

“When will you be back?”

“Couple of days. But Boone will be here. I'm taking the Karmann Ghia. Give him a call if you need anything. There's plenty of food.”

“What about Christina?”

I shrugged. “She's not here right now. If a blue-and-white '58 Corvette is in the garage or the driveway, you'll know she's in the house. If you see her, you see her. Don't take it personally if she's not very sociable. It's just the way she is.”

“She doesn't mind me being here?”

“Not at all. If I want you here, then it's okay with her.”

We kissed and I told her I was glad she was in L.A. She said, “Me, too,” but I could tell she was uneasy about me leaving. Nevertheless, I had to run.

The Sandstone Casino was built in the mid-fifties, so it was still fairly new. Located in the heart of downtown Las Vegas, it was the Golden Nugget's biggest competition. Vincent DeAngelo ran it with an iron fist, but he was fair to winners. If anyone was caught cheating, though, God help them. The casino bosses would turn Rico Mancini loose on them, and it was possible the cheater might not see the light of day ever again. I'd heard tales of bodies buried in the desert. Mancini, while serving as DeAngelo's bodyguard, was also the number-one enforcer for the family. I still thought Boone could whip his ass.

He treated me differently when I was with the boss's daughter. Rico gave me a big grin when he saw me escorting Maria to the Sandstone Club inside the massive place. Dean Martin didn't sing just anywhere, so it was a big deal that they managed to book him.

I shook Mancini's hand, which always felt like sandpaper. “How you doing, Rico?”

“Fine, Mr. Kelly. Hello, Maria.”

“Call me Leo, for Chrissake,” I said. “How long have you known me? Mr. Kelly was my father.”

“Okay, Leo.” He nodded at Maria. “Your father's already inside, Maria.”

“Thank you, Rico,” my date said with a sniff. She treated the “help” in DeAngelo's employ with equal disdain. It didn't matter who they were. She was the princess of the house, and she made sure everyone knew it. She looked like a million bucks, though. She had on a frilly, wide dress that hung just below her knees, exposing those marvelous calves of hers. The high heels did wonders for them, too. The bodice was low cut, too, displaying more of her cleavage than I'd ever seen. What was she trying to do? Had she dressed that way for me or for Dean Martin?

We sat in the VIP section with her family, naturally. DeAngelo and his wife greeted me warmly, and Maria gave her daddy a kiss on the cheek and welcomed him home. Apparently he'd been out of town and had returned just in time for the show. Paulie sneered at me, as usual, but we shook hands anyway. I asked him if he'd been traveling with his father, and the guy frowned at me as if I was a bug. “Of course, I was,” he said. He was a snotty kid, just like his sister. The prince and heir apparent.

Maria and I grabbed our seats and I told her again how wonderful she looked. She took the compliment for granted, as if I'd said, “Your hair sure is blonde.” Our conversation consisted of nothing but her describing a shopping experience on Rodeo Drive and how she'd hobnobbed with Tony Curtis at some Hollywood party. Not once did she ask about me or my sister or uncle. If she wasn't DeAngelo's daughter, and if she didn't have the looks of a model, I wouldn't be wasting my time with her. Truth be told, I couldn't help thinking about Judy Cooper, all alone back at the house on Woodruff.

At one point before the show started, DeAngelo got up to go to the can. Mancini followed him, of course. I excused myself to Maria and went along, too. DeAngelo and I did our business at the urinals at the same time. He asked, “How's business, Leo?”

“Fine, sir, er, Vince.”

He zipped up and went over to the sink to wash his hands, but he looked around the place to make sure no one else was in there. “I'm still working out the details of that thing I mentioned the last time I saw you.”

He meant the bank job. I'd been wondering about that.

“Just let me know, and Christina and I'll be ready,” I said.

The boss nodded at me, moved to the bathroom door, and said, “Treat my daughter good, you hear?”

“Sure, Vince. I like Maria a lot.”

He paused, letting that digest. Then he opened the door and said, “Enjoy the show, Leo.” Then he walked out.

1961

M
AY
12, 1961

It's been a busy month, dear diary, and I haven't had the time—or inclination—to write. So much has happened since my last entry.

First of all, I now live in my own apartment in Los Angeles. Actually, it's Hollywood! It's a nice little studio apartment in a building on Franklin Street, near Highland, and it's a fabulous location. I can walk to Hollywood Boulevard and Grauman's Chinese Theatre. It was one of the places on the list of apartments Leo gave me. Boone drove me there to see it, and I took it immediately. I had to pay a first and last month's rent, so it's a good thing I have a job now, too.

Leo came through and spoke to his Uncle Charlie. Four days after arriving in L.A., I had a job as a hostess at Flickers. It's very exciting, because Leo was right—you never know who you'll see there. I've met Kirk Douglas, Jerry Vale, Mel Tormé, and Debbie Reynolds. I was starstruck. My job is easy; I just greet guests when they arrive and check the reservation list. If they're not on it, I hand them over to Butch, the maître d', to see if he can seat them. If not—tough luck. Flickers is a popular place, and Charlie's a nice boss. I see similarities between him and Leo, but they're really very different. Charlie's in his late fifties, and he's like a wise old man. He seems to know everything and everybody.

After I arrived in L.A. and Leo left me at his house, I felt a little lost. I made myself something to eat and unpacked. Leo had deposited a street map on my bed with a note pointing out areas of interest—the grocery store, liquor store, movie theaters, bus stops, and so on. I ended up staying at Leo's for five days before I settled on the apartment I have now. I never saw Christina once, but I heard her. One time I was in the kitchen and I heard voices—a woman and a man—upstairs behind her closed door. And they weren't just talking, if you know what I mean. I find her very mysterious. She came and went as she pleased—I heard her car outside my window at all hours of the night—and she avoided me the entire time. I would say that's not very friendly.

As for Leo, I barely saw him either! I was a little miffed at him, but he's since made it up to me. I suppose you can say we're dating hot and heavy. Sometimes I spend the night over at his house—not in my old bedroom, but in
his.
I really like him and I think he likes me. Is it love? I don't know, dear diary. He has some secrets and I'm curious as to what they are. Then again, I have secrets, too, so I guess we're even. At any rate, he's out of town an awful lot. His main office is in the Wholesale District, just south of downtown Los Angeles. He took me there once. It's kind of an ugly area. Mostly Negroes live in the neighborhoods. His office is in a plain brick building adjacent to a warehouse. Christina works there, too. When I visited, it was the first time I'd seen her face-to-face since my arrival in California. She was cordial and said hello. I told her that I hope I didn't disturb her when I was in the house, and she replied, “Not at all. I barely knew you were there.” That's because she didn't make an effort to see me!