You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Kills You (21 page)

I stood up and he patted me down.

“Satisfied?”

“For now,” he said. “I should search your car, but …”

I took my car keys out of my pocket and tried a monumental bluff.

“Here ya go,” I said, holding the keys out to him.

“Never mind,” he said, as the keys dangled from my fingers. “Just stay out of trouble.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Make sure that’s good enough.”

As Stanze left I sat back down with a sigh of relief. I was thankful Otash had told me to stash the gun in the car, and even more thankful that Stanze had not called my bluff.

“You gotta wake up, big guy,” I said to Jerry. “I think I’m floundering more without you than I was with you.”

If he heard me he wasn’t giving any sign. I sat back in the chair, folded my arms and closed my eyes again.

I
WOKE IN THE MIDDLE
of the night and listened to the silence. It was too quiet. I sat up quickly, the only light coming in from the hall. I stood up and walked to the doorway. Where there was supposed to be a cop there was nobody.

I went back to Jerry’s bed, located his buzzer to call the nurse and pressed it. I had to press it a second and third time before someone came—a middle-aged nurse who looked as if she, too, had just woken up.

“Oh,” she said, “for a moment I thought your friend pressed the call button.”

“Can you tell me what happened to the cop who was on the door to this room?”

“I can tell you what happened to all three of them,” she said. “They were called back to their station.”

“Why?”

“I was only told that they had to leave.”

“And nobody thought to tell me?”

“Excuse me, sir, but I don’t work for you,” she said stiffly.

“Okay, look—what’s your name?”

“Nurse Collins, sir.”

“Miss Collins, I’m sorry about the way that came out,” I said, “but this man is in danger and, frankly, if he’s in danger so are you and the other nurses.”

She frowned. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. They said not to disturb you, but to tell you about it when you did wake.”

“I see.”

“What are we supposed to do?”

“I’m gonna stay all night,” I said. “Just keep an eye out for strangers.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And if I have any trouble I’ll press the call button and you come running with some orderlies.”

“All right, sir.”

“Big ones, if you have any.”

“I’ll find ‘em,” she promised.

I walked her to the door.

“I’m gonna close this door. If you or a doctor want to come in I’d appreciate it if you’d knock.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Tomorrow I’m gonna get us some help.”

“Good,” she said, “because I’m on duty again tomorrow night.”

She returned to her station and I returned to mine. I was determined to stay awake, but you know what they say about the best laid plans …

I woke with a start, the sun streaming in the window directly into my eyes. I checked the time: 8:15
A.M
. I picked up the phone and dialed the operator.

“Operator,” a woman’s voice said.

“Can I make a long distance call from here?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, sir, no,” she said, “but there are pay phones in the lobby.”

“What number do I dial to get the nurse’s station on the second floor?”

“If you’re in a room, sir, just press your call button. A nurse will respond immediately.”

“Yeah, see, the problem is your idea of immediately and mine are two different things. What number can I dial to get the station?”

She told me, and I dialed it.

“Second-floor nurse’s station,” a woman said.

“Nurse Collins?”

“Yes.”

“This is Eddie Gianelli, down the hall in Jerry Epstein’s room?”

“Yes, Mr. Gianelli. Is your call button out of order?” she asked.

“I didn’t try it. I preferred to call you this way. I need to go down to the lobby to make a long distance call.”

“You can make it from your room, sir,” she said, “but it will show up on your final bill.”

“That’s no problem,” I said. “The operator told me I couldn’t do it.”

“I’ll call her and arrange it, sir. She’ll ring you when she has a line open.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I only had to wait ten minutes and then the phone rang. I grabbed it on the first ring, then realized how silly I was being. The phone was not going to wake Jerry up, although I wished it would.

“Yes?”

“You have a line, sir. You may dial your call.”

“Thank you.”

I dialed the Sands, Jack Entratter’s office. He answered his own phone, which he does when his girl is out, or away from her desk.

“Eddie, where the hell are you? I’ve been tryin’ to get you—”

“I’m at the hospital, Jack,” I said. “Listen, did you look into the Lavender Club like you said you were?”

“I did, and you’re in trouble, my friend.”

“What kind of trouble? How bad?”

“The fed kind.”

“You know, I thought I heard they were involved, but at the time I convinced myself I was wrong.”

“Involved? Hell, they run it, Eddie. And do you know who owns the Lavender Club?”

“Who?”

“J. fucking Edgar Hoover, that’s who,” he said. “You’re banging heads with the FBI, my friend.”

A
FTER I HUNG UP
on Entratter I called Otash’s office and left a message with Miss Deeds to have him come right over to the hospital.

While I waited for Otash to arrive—or maybe even Stanze—I looked at Jerry, lying helpless in that bed, and realized that I had always thought of him as indestructible. Seeing him unconscious and unable to defend himself was kind of scary. But it also showed that anybody can be taken down if you take them from behind.

Otash arrived and looked disturbed—rested, but disturbed.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “I haven’t had a chance to make my calls yet.”

“To check on the Lavender Club?”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I was going to do.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Why not?”

“I got the information already.”

“From who?”

“Jack Entratter, my boss at the Sands.”

“I’ve heard of Entratter,” Otash said. “So what did he do, use the Sicilian pipeline?”

“Whatever he used, he got the info, and I don’t think you would have gotten it. I don’t even think the L.A. cops would’ve found it.”

“What is it, top secret?”

“You might say that.”

“Okay, don’t keep me in suspense. Who owns the damned club?”

“You’re gonna laugh,” I said. “The owner of record is something called the JEH Group, Inc.”

“JEH? What does that stand for?”

“This is the part you’re gonna find funny,” I said. “JEH stands for J. Edgar Hoover.”

“What? Are you telling me that club is owned by the FBI?”

“That’s what I’m tellin’ you.”

“Wait a minute—JEH? That’s just stupid.”

“All the more reason to believe it,” I said. “Somebody just couldn’t help but get cute about it.”

“Jesus …”

“And did you notice anythin’ odd when you came in?” I asked.

“Yeah, I did,” he said. “No cops.”

“Right,” I said. “They were pulled in the middle of the night.”

“You think the FBI had something to do with that, too?” he asked.

“I’d make book on it.”

“This makes sense out of the conversation you heard in the club,” he said.

“Yeah, but I don’t think Harris and the guy with the scar are FBI. I think they’re freelancers.”

“Being paid by the feebs.”

“Right.”

“You know, if the FBI pulled the cops they’re not coming back any time soon.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’ve made other arrangements.”

“Also through Entratter?”

“Yes,” I said. “Someone’s got to keep Jerry safe while we run down these two guys. One of the calls you were gonna make was to run that plate number.”

“Yes,” he said, “I’m having Leona do it now.”

“Good. If I’m right the car will be registered to the JEH Group. Maybe there’ll be an address.”

“Most likely a PO box.”

“If it is we’re screwed again.”

“No, we’re not. We’ll just stake out the place and wait for one of them to show up, and this time we’ll follow him.”

“What if they realize someone left the light on in the basement?”

“Maybe nobody’s been down there since, but it won’t matter. They’ll each blame somebody else.”

“So Fred, are you sure you’re willing to go against the FBI?”

“If you’re right and these are freelancers who jumped the gun,” he reasoned, “grabbed Danny and slugged Jerry, then we’re not going against the whole FBI, just these two guys. I mean, the only reason the FBI would employ freelancers is deniability.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” I said.

“When are your other arrangements supposed to arrive?” he asked.

“Any minute. They’ll watch Jerry in shifts until I tell them it’s over.”

“This,” he said, “ought to be interesting.”

He was right, it was.

Two guys arrived wearing suits and ties and iron under their
arms. Young, dark-haired, pale and bored-looking, almost identical.

“You Gianelli?” one of them asked. “The one they call Eddie G?”

“That’s me,” I said, and even to myself I sounded like a bad Edward G. Robinson impersonator. “I’m Eddie Gianelli.”

“I’m Vince, this is Bobbo,” Vince said. “Mr. Roselli sent us.”

“Johnny Roselli?” Otash asked.

“You know another one?” Vince asked.

I’d met Roselli one time. He ran L.A. and Vegas for Sam Giancana and his group. Entratter had said he’d call Roselli and get me some help looking out for Jerry.

“Dis da guy?” the other man asked. “Jeez, he’s a big one. How’d they take him down?”

“From behind,” I said.

He looked at his partner and said, “Ain’t dat always da way?”

“Shut up, Bobbo,” Vince said. He looked at me. “We’ll be here for six hours and then we’ll be relieved. Mr. Roselli says you should go and do what you gotta do. Him and Mr. Entratter made all the arrangements, and Mr. Roselli made a promise.”

“The cops were supposed to be here watchin’ him,” I said.

“That figures,” Vince said.

“Well, they may be back.”

“That’s okay,” Vince said, “we get along good with cops. They understand cash.”

“Okay, Vince,” I said. “Just make sure nothin’ happens to him.”

“Hey,” Vince said, “Mr. Roselli makes a promise, we keep it. That’s our job, and we’re good at it.”

“Hey,” Bobbo said, “is it true you’re friends with Frank and Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s true.”

“Jeez, dem guys is great.”

“I tell you what,” I said. “You do your job, and I’ll get you free tickets next time they’re in Vegas. And a comped room at the Sands.”

“Really?” Bobbo asked. “Jeez, thanks, Mr. Gianelli.”

“We’ll do our job either way,” Vince said.

“I’m countin’ on you guys.”

“No problem, Mr. G.,” Bobbo said. “It’s in da bag.”

As Otash and I left the hospital he said, “Never thought I’d be throwing in with Johnny Roselli.”

“Actually,” I said, “he’s kind of throwin’ in with us.”

“Even stranger,” he said, “only …”

“Only what?”

“How can you be sure you can trust these guys?” he asked. “I mean, how do we know they were really sent by Roselli?”

“They mentioned Jack Entratter,” I said. “Nobody knows that Jack was callin’ Johnny. My only worry is what happens if the cops come back.”

“You know, at one time the L.A. Police Department was the most corrupt in the country—even worse than Chicago. There’s no reason to believe some of that’s not still true.”

“You’re sayin’ they’re on Roselli’s pad?”

“Roselli’s, the FBI, they’re on somebody’s.”

“I kinda thought Stanze was different.”

“He may well be,” Otash said, “but he’s only one man, and he can’t buck the whole system.”

W
E WENT FROM THE HOSPITAL
to Fred Otash’s office. It was the beginning of business hours and Miss Deeds was at her desk. He told me he had a private bath off his office, which included a shower. I told him I’d wait until I got back to Marilyn’s for the clothes, but I did wash up.

When I came out of the bathroom reasonably refreshed, Otash was sitting at his desk, just hanging up the phone.

“This is no surprise,” he said. “The car driven by Harris is registered to the JEH Group.”

“We get an address?”

“A PO box.”

“What about a driver’s license?”

“That’s a good thought,” Otash said. “You’ll make a detective yet. I just checked with my contact in Motor Vehicle. There are too many drivers named Harris for us to tell anything.”

“So we go on stakeout?” I asked.

“Yes, with one change,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“We follow whoever comes out,” he said. “Harris, the guy with the scar, or the manager, the other guy whose voice you heard.”

“I don’t know what he looks like.”

“We’ll find out,” Otash said. “If he’s running the place for the FBI he’s got to know something.”

“What about the bouncer? I heard him say he’s running girls out of there.”

“Good idea,” Otash said. “If he thinks he’s going to be pinched for running a string of girls, maybe he’ll talk.”

“He looks like he’d be used for heavy lifting.”

“You mean like moving Danny from the basement to somewhere else?”

“That’s what I mean.”

I didn’t like thinking of Danny as deadweight—or as dead. I wasn’t sure how I’d react if I found my longtime friend dead. I just had to keep thinking of him as alive, somewhere.

Penny would never forgive me if I didn’t bring him back.

Otash wanted to make some more calls—and use his shower—so instead of hanging around the office and—for some reason I still couldn’t figure out—annoying Miss Deeds, I decided to go back to Marilyn’s and get my own clothes.

“Be back here in a couple of hours,” Otash said. “With any luck I’ll know something about the manager and the bouncer at the Lavender.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you then.”

I drove back to the guesthouse, went inside, took a shower and brewed a pot of coffee to try to keep myself awake.