[Rat Pack 11] - I Only Have Lies for You Read online

  Jerry made a face.

  “Is he gonna stop in and see Hargrove first, too?” he wondered.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Probably, if he follows protocol. But... maybe we can stop him.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “He’s coming in on a commercial flight,” I said. “Let’s find out when, and meet him. That’ll keep him away from Hargrove until after we talk to him.”

  “Great idea.”

  I waved at Coco and made motions for her to bring me a phone.

  “What are you gonna do now?”

  “Call Miami Beach P.D., see if I can get ahold of Detective Winter before he leaves or, at least, find out when he’s leaving.”

  “If I knew you was gonna do that from here I woulda ordered dessert.”

  THIRTY EIGHT

  We didn’t have dessert, but he did order coffee while I was on the line.

  When I got off the phone he pushed a coffee cup over to me.

  “Thanks.” I sipped. “They wouldn’t give me any information, wouldn’t give me his home number. Against the rules.”

  “So you came up empty?”

  “Not exactly. When I said I wanted to leave a message for him to call me back immediately, the person on the other end said it wouldn’t be that fast. She said he wasn’t going to be in for a few days—starting tomorrow morning.”

  “So you figure he’ll be on a plane in the mornin’.”

  “I figured that before the call,” I said. “I mean, his partner was killed, he wasn’t going to wait long. This call just confirms it.”

  “What if he flies in tonight, on a red eye. Or already did?” Jerry asked. “If we miss him he’ll get to Hargrove first —and you know he ain’t gonna have nothin’ good to say about you.”

  “That’s true,” I said. I didn’t have Danny’s contacts at the airport, but I did know one person—a man in security. “Let’s see what I can find out tonight.”

  I picked up the phone receiver and Jerry turned and wave to Coco.

  ***

  By the time I got off the phone, there were two pieces of pie on the table, both apple. The coffee cups had been refilled. Jerry had eaten half of his slice and pushed the rest away. I took a bite of mine.

  It had taken some time, but my security contact at the airport confirmed that no red-eye flights had come in from Miami Beach.

  “Looks like he’s gonna come in tomorrow,” I said. “I’ve got two likely times for flights, so we’ll drive out there in the morning and wait.”

  “You gonna recognize ‘im?”

  “I saw him once, but yeah, I think I will.”

  “If you don’t, I will.”

  “You’ve never seen him.”

  “If he looks like a cop, I’ll spot ‘im.”

  We finished our pie—he slowly, reluctantly ate the rest of his—and then we went back into the casino. I intended to do my job for the rest of the evening, and he intended to do his and keep me alive.

  ***

  In the morning we were at McCarron Airport when Detective Winter got off his plane. I looked around but didn’t see Hargrove anywhere, which suited me. I wanted a word with Winter before he got the lowdown on me from Hargrove.

  He recognized me as we approached him, but gave Jerry a wary look.

  “Detective Winter,” I said, extending my hand, “we thought we’d give you a ride.”

  “We?” he asked, shaking my hand.

  “This is my friend, Jerry.”

  “Friend,” Jerry said, “and bodyguard.”

  “Ah,” he said, “I get it.” He shook hands with Jerry.

  “We’re sorry about your partner,” I said. “I spoke to him the night before—“

  “Didja? You can tell me about that in the car, then.”

  “Fine,” I said, “it’s this way. Is that your only bag?”

  “This is it.”

  “I’ll take it,” Jerry said, and plucked it from the detective’s hand.

  “We can put you up at the Sands, if you like,” I offered, as we walked.

  “No, that’s okay,” he said. “I wanna stay where Eisman stayed—a hotel? Motel?”

  “Sure,” I said, “we’ll take you over there.”

  Out in the parking lot, Jerry tossed the suitcase into the back seat, and Winter insisted on riding with it. Jerry got behind the wheel and I got in the passenger seat in front.

  That made it kind of hard to talk with Winter, but since I was doing most of the talking I simply turned in my seat and gabbed. I told him about my conversation with Eisman the night before he died—or, actually, the night he died. He must have gotten killed as soon as he returned to his hotel.

  The Decatur Court looked more like a motel, but they called it a hotel because it had three floors. All the rooms, however, were accessed from outside.

  Jerry pulled up in front of the office and Winter got out with his bag.

  “So what’s the real reason you guys picked me up?” he asked.

  “I was hoping to get to you before you talked to the local detective, Hargrove, who Eisman was in contact with. He’s gonna bad mouth the hell out of me.”

  “He already did.”

  “What?”

  “I spoke with him on the phone,” Winter said. “He’s a real jerk.”

  “You got that right,” Jerry said.

  “Don’t worry,” Winter said. “I value Eisman’s opinion more than this guy Hargrove. Can we talk some more after I’ve seen him, and identified the body?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Come on over to the Sands anytime.”

  “I’ll do that.” He turned to go into the office.

  “And don’t get killed!” Jerry said.

  He turned back and stared at Jerry. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  As he went into the office I swatted Jerry on the arm.

  “What?”

  “Don’t get killed?”

  “I don’t even know why he’s stayin’ here, Mr. G.. It’s dangerous.”

  “He knows that,” I said. “He probably wants the guy to try.”

  “Well,” Jerry said, putting the Caddy in Drive, “that ain’t smart.”

  I stared straight out through the front windshield. My neck had a crick in it from the ride with my head turned.

  “Let’s head for the Sands,” I said. “Danny’s probably wondering where we are.”

  THIRTY NINE

  As we entered the Sands lobby I realized I was getting tired of it. I’d never felt that way before, but with a hitman in town, maybe looking for me, I was kind of trapped and I didn’t like it.

  “There you are!”

  We turned, saw Danny coming toward us.

  “I was tryin’ to figure out where you were,” Danny said. “I talked to Entratter, but he didn’t know. Why do I annoy that guy so much?”

  “Probably because you’re a cop,” Jerry said.

  “I’m not a cop.”

  “Well,” Jerry said, “close.”

  Danny looked at me. “Where you been?”

  “Eisman’s partner, Winters, came in this morning. We picked him up at the airport, took him to his partner’s hotel.”

  “He’s stayin’ at the same place? Not smart.”

  “See?” Jerry said. “That’s what I said.”

  “I can’t control where the guy wants to stay,” I said, “or who he wants to talk to.”

  “Like... Hargrove?”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “Did you warn him?”

  “I didn’t have to,” I said. “He had already talked with Hargrove on the phone. He thinks he’s an ass.”

  “Ah,” Danny said, “a smart cop, for a change.”

  “Any word on our guy?” I asked.

  “Nobody in town knows about an out-of-towner comin’ in,” Danny said. “What about you?” He looked at Jerry.

  “I got nothin’,” Jerry said. “I called Chicago, Boston, Philly. Nothin’ but blanks.”

  “This guy
must be a ghost,” Danny said.

  “Hey,” I said, “he sat right next to me in a bar and I didn’t see him.”

  “What about the bartender?” Danny asked.

  “What?”

  “The bartender on duty,” Danny said. “He served him. didn’t he see him?”

  “I never asked.” I felt like a dunce.

  “Didn’t the cops talk to ‘im?” Jerry asked.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “We’ll have to ask Winter.”

  “You gonna see him again?” Danny asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, “after he talks to Hargrove he’s gonna come here.”

  “If the killer doesn’t get him first.”

  “I warned him,” Jerry said.

  “If the killer’s gonna come after anybody, it’ll be me,” I said.

  “What about Gleason, and the Taylor girl?”

  “He’s takin’ her back to Miami Beach on Frank’s plane.”

  “When?”

  “Probably tomorrow. He gave me another day.”

  “To do what?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I never knew why he came here to see me. I keep thinking there’s something Jackie’s not telling me.”

  “Do you think he’s told anyone?” Danny asked. “Maybe Sinatra?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “I can ask Frank, but if Gleason has sworn him to secrecy I think I know which way Frank will lean.”

  “He’s known Gleason a lot longer,” Danny said.

  I nodded. “There’s only one thing I can think of to do.”

  “What’s that?” Jerry asked.

  “Get help.”

  “From who?” Danny asked.

  “I’m thinking if Frank won’t tell me what Gleason’s up to,” I said, “maybe he’ll tell somebody else.”

  “Come on, Eddie,” Danny said. “Who are you talkin’ about?”

  “Dino.”

  “Why would he tell Dean Martin what he won’t tell you?” Danny asked.

  “I think Dean’s the only one Frank thinks more of than Jackie.”

  “And why would Martin even ask him?”

  “Because I’ll ask him to.”

  “And you think you and Dino are close enough friend for him to do this for you? Sinatra is Dean’s best friend.”

  “I know,” I said. “I told you, it’s the only thing I can think of. So maybe all I have to do is convince Dean that it’s in everyone’s best interest for me to hear the truth, whatever it is.”

  “So where’s Dean now?”

  “He should be in Burbank, shooting the first season of his new show.”

  “That means you can call him at home.”

  “Right.”

  “Well, all right, then,” Danny said. “s Jerry stayin’ with you?”

  “He is.”

  “Okay,” Danny said, “I’ve got a few more ideas I want to chase down. Let me know what happens with Martin.”

  FORTY

  That entire conversation took place in the hotel lobby, and we separated right there.

  “What do we do now?” Jerry said. “We’re all comin’ up empty on this guy.”

  “All I know is, I’m feeling kind of smothered in here. I’d like to get out and do something.”

  “Like what?”

  “We drove Winter to that hotel, but we never went in and took a look. Or talked to the desk clerk.”

  “Don’t you think Hargrove musta done that?”

  “Maybe he didn’t ask the questions we’ll ask,” I said. “Let’s take a ride.”

  ”Suits me.”

  It might’ve been an odd choice of what to do next since we had just come from there, but we went back out to the Caddy and drove back to the Decatur Court.

  Whether it was a hotel or motel was moot. They even called themselves a “court,” which wasn’t quite right, either. It had three floors, outside access, and a pool. We parked outside the main office and went in.

  “Help ya?” a middle-aged clerk asked. He was balding, thin, had wire-framed glasses and a slight lilt to his voice which indicated he might’ve been from somewhere in the South.

  “Yes,” I said, “we’re here about the police detective who was killed.”

  “More of you?” he asked. “First the locals came in, and then that cop’s partner wanted the same room and asked a lot of questions. Now you?”

  “We’re just doing a follow-up,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Jerry said, looking mean.

  “Okay,” the clerk said, leaning on the desk, “Whataya want?”

  “Other than the local cops, and the two Miami cops,” I asked, “who else did you see in the past few days?”

  “What kinda question is that?” the clerk asked. “Lots of people come in and out of here — locals and tourists.”

  “We’re not talking about tourists,” I said, “we’re talking about... suspicious characters.”

  “Shit,” he said, “half of them look suspicious. You look suspicious.”

  “Okay,” I said, “when the first detective from Miami came here and checked in, did anyone come in asking about him?”

  “Now that’s something your local buddy didn’t ask,” the clerk said, “but the second Miami cop did.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “There was one man who came in askin’ about him,” the clerk said. “He wanted to know what room he was in.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “Well...”

  “How much did he pay you?” Jerry asked.

  “Fifty bucks.”

  “And you want the same from us?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Fair’s fair.”

  “Yes, fair is fair,” I said. “How would you like it if my big partner here tore your head off?”

  “And shit down your neck?” Jerry asked.

  The clerk looked worried. “Y-you can’t do that. You’re cops.”

  “Who said we were cops?” I looked at Jerry. “Did we say we were cops?”

  “No, we didn’t,” Jerry said.

  “B-but I assumed—“

  “You assumed wrong,” I said.

  “In fact,” Jerry said, moving his coat aside so the clerk could see the cannon in his belt, “we’re just the opposite of cops.”

  Now the man brightened, thinking he’d gotten it.

  “Oh, well, why didn’t you just say you were connected?” he asked. “I’ll tell ya whatever ya wanna know.”

  “Start with a description of the man who asked about the dead cop’s room,” I suggested.

  ***

  The description didn’t help.

  “Average,” the clerk had told us. The man looked average. Height, weight, facial features. “He looked like, well anybody.”

  Had he seen him since the murder?

  No.

  And did anyone else besides cops come around asking any questions?

  No.

  The guy was no help, at all.

  We turned to leave when I thought of another question.

  “What about since this morning, when the other cop registered? Anybody been around?”

  “Just you two.”

  “Has the other cop come back down since he checked in?” I asked.

  “Y-yessir,” the clerk stammered, “h-he came down a little while ago and took a cab.”

  Jerry had been halfway out the door. He came back in and approached the desk again. The clerk shrank back.

  “And nobody should hear about us bein’ here, Got it?”

  “Y-yessir, I got it.”

  We went outside.

  “Now what?” Jerry asked.

  “I’m not ready to go back to the Sands, yet,” I said, “and I don’t think Winter will be done with Hargrove, yet.”

  “So where do we go?”

  “Can you eat hot dogs on this new diet of yours?”

  FORTY ONE

  Jerry knew the way to the hot dog stand at the end of Industrial Drive. We’d been there many times be
fore. This time we ordered two dogs each, but our concession to his diabetes was no French fries.

  “I could probably have a few fries if I only had one dog,” he reasoned. “Or, ya know, if you ordered ‘em I could, ya know, take a few.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I’m not that hungry. I was just looking for something to do rather than go back to the Sands. A hot dog is always something good to do.”

  “You got that right.”

  We carried our dogs and sodas to the wooden picnic tables and benches nearby. We’d already dressed our dog. Mustard and sauerkraut for Jerry, ketchup and relish for me. Yes, ketchup on my hot dog. I learned that from having Nathan’s hot dogs while I lived in Brooklyn. So sue me. Jerry and I’d had many discussions about it, but he finally gave up on me.

  We sat across from each other and ate.

  “This killer,” Jerry said. “He sounds too perfect.”

  “I know,” I said. “Nobody’s seen him, and the one person who might’ve says he’s average,”

  “That’s the perfect hitman,” Jerry said. “The one nobody ever notices. And he’s a blade man, so he needs to be able to get in close.”

  “Seems to me he’d either have a helluva reputation, or he’s a ghost.”

  “Well, since we can’t find anybody who knows anythin’, I guess he’s a ghost.”

  “And that doesn’t help us, at all,” I said, “not that we really want to find a hitman.”

  “Findin’ him would be better than havin’ him find you, Mr. G.,” Jerry said.

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Jerry was looking longingly at the hot dog stand and I knew he was thinking about going back for more, so I said, “Okay, we better get out of here.”

  “Uh, yeah, okay, right.”

  We got rid of our trash and walked to the Caddy. I stopped before getting in and looked at Jerry on the other side.

  “What if we change our tactics?” I asked.

  “Whataya mean?”

  “Instead of not wanting the hitman to find me, what if we let him find me?”

  “You mean use you as bait?”

  “Seems to me he could’ve got to Marilyn Taylor, or Jackie, any time he wanted to. No cops around, no bodyguards.”