It Was a Very Bad Year Read online

  ‘Good.’

  I settled the bill and tipped Ivy generously.

  ‘Thanks, Eddie.’

  As we walked out Jerry asked, ‘She’s pretty. You gettin’ some of that, Mr G.?’

  ‘Don’t be so interested in my love life, Jerry,’ I said.

  SIX

  Jerry drove my Caddy. I’d never seen his big hands be as gentle with anything else as he was with the steering wheel of my car.

  We parked down the street from the studio and walked to it. It had a glass front, with a single glass door. In the windows were dozens of photos, presumably taken by Barney Irwin. And smack in the middle was a framed photo of a young Abby Dalton.

  ‘I guess that answers the question of whether or not he’ll remember her,’ I said, pointing.

  Jerry leaned in to look closer at the photo that almost looked like it belonged in a yearbook. Her hair piled up on her head, her long neck leading down to bare shoulders.

  ‘I think she looks better now,’ Jerry said, straightening up.

  ‘I agree.’

  We went to the door of Irwin Studios and pushed it open.

  The inside had a musty smell, and a thin layer of dust on everything. Apparently, Irwin Studios didn’t do much business anymore. Come to think of it, all the photos in the window had an aged look to them.

  ‘What a dump,’ Jerry said.

  I looked around. It hadn’t always been a dump. I could see the rug had cost a pretty penny in its day. Also the wall paneling. There were different size and style picture frames on shelves, but some of them were tarnished.

  There was a curtained doorway leading to either a back room or a hallway. The curtain was faded, red and threadbare.

  ‘Is there a bell for us to ring?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘I don’t see one, but why don’t we just take a peek behind curtain number three and see what we find?’

  Jerry looked around and said, ‘There’s only one curtain.’

  ‘Jerry—’

  ‘I‘m kiddin’ ya, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘You of all people know I ain’t that dumb.’

  ‘Yeah, I do know that. Come on.’

  We went to the curtain and I pushed it aside to see a hallway.

  I led the way, with Jerry’s bulk crowding behind me. About halfway back we began to hear a voice.

  ‘That’s it sweetie, that’s it,’ a man said. ‘Now stick it out. Yeah! That’s it. Work it! Work it for daddy!’ At the end of the hall we could see flashes of light coming from another doorway.

  We got to the end of the hall, found another threadbare curtain, this one blue. I parted it just enough to look inside. We saw a thickset bald man with a camera, clicking off shots of a naked girl on a small stage. After each shot a spent flash bulb would pop from the camera and hit the floor, and he’d load a new one. She was busty and blonde, showgirl material, and at the moment she was working it for daddy, pushing out her chubby boobs and butt. I always wondered how women could do that without breaking their backs.

  ‘How do they do that—’ Jerry started to whisper.

  ‘I know!’

  ‘Whataya wanna do?’

  ‘Follow my lead.’

  ‘OK.’

  I pushed the curtain aside and walked through. Jerry was so close behind me that he clipped my heels.

  ‘Sorry,’ he whispered.

  ‘Oh!’ the girl said when she saw us, but did nothing to try to cover up. Instead, she seemed to appreciate the audience, and Jerry appreciated the show.

  ‘Nice tits,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you.’

  The photographer turned around. He was in his sixties, with a gleaming bald head. His once powerful physique had gone to seed, but still had powerful shoulders, while his belly hung over his belt. He was wearing a yellow polo shirt, powder blue trousers, with a white belt and shoes.

  ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

  ‘My name’s Eddie Gianelli,’ I said. ‘I’m from the Sands.’

  ‘Oh,’ the girl said, again. ‘Is this the guy you told me about, Barney?’ she asked, in a baby doll voice.

  ‘Huh?’ Barney Irwin said. ‘Oh, no, baby, he ain’t the guy.’

  He must have already promised her she’d meet a guy who would give her a job. Sorry, I thought, not me.

  ‘Whataya want?’ he asked me, but he was looking past me, at Jerry.

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Abby Dalton.’

  ‘Abby . . .’ He turned to the girl. ‘Get dressed, baby.’

  ‘Are we done, Barney?’

  ‘Yeah, baby, we’re done.’

  ‘When will I get to meet—’

  ‘Get dressed!’ he snapped. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

  ‘OK, Barney.’

  She stepped down from the stage and trotted off toward another door, and through. We all watched her jiggle until she was gone, then looked back at each other.

  ‘You remember Abby Dalton, don’t you, Mr Irwin?’ I asked.

  ‘She was Marlene Wasden when I knew her,’ Irwin said. ‘A pretty little thing. You can see her picture in my window.’

  ‘But she’s a TV star now,’ I said. ‘Famous.’

  ‘So she is.’ He walked to a table and set his camera down on it. ‘What’s that got to do with me?’ He started walking around the room, stooping to pick up the spent bulbs.

  ‘What was that girl’s name?’ I asked.

  He straightened and looked at me. ‘Who? Jenny?’ He jerked his thumb in the direction of the door the girl had gone through.

  ‘You ever take pictures of other girls like the ones you were takin’ of Jenny?’ I asked.

  ‘Sure,’ Barney said. ‘I got connections. I can get them jobs at the casinos.’

  ‘As what? Cigarette girls?’

  ‘Show girls,’ he said. ‘That’s why they come to me. That’s why they pose.’ He dropped all the bulbs into a trash can.

  ‘And what about Abby? Or Marlene? Did she pose for pictures like those?’

  ‘Like those?’ Barney asked. ‘No, she was classy, even as a teenager.’

  ‘So that means no naked pictures of her?’

  Irwin turned to look at me.

  ‘Why are you interested?’ he asked. ‘Why should I talk to you about that?’

  ‘I’m just askin’ questions, Barney.’

  ‘Yeah, but why?’ Irwin asked. ‘Say, who sent you here? Who gave you my name?’

  ‘Ask anybody in Vegas who takes the best cheesecake pictures,’ I said. ‘Don’t they say Barney Irwin?’

  Irwin frowned. ‘You tryin’ to do a stroke job on me?’

  ‘Me?’ I said. ‘Stroke the great Barney Irwin?’

  ‘Aw, whataya want here?’ Irwin said, growing annoyed. ‘I got work to do.’

  ‘Got another girl comin’ in?’ I asked. ‘Another young girl to make get naked in front of you?’

  ‘Hey, I’m an artist,’ Irwin said. ‘All artists use girls as models.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jerry said, ‘but most artists got talent.’

  ‘Hey, I got talent,’ Irwin said. ‘I been in this business a long time.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jerry said, ‘we can tell that from all the dust on everything in here.’

  ‘Oh, that?’ Irwin said. ‘Yeah, I got a woman who comes in – only she’s been sick.’

  ‘You got any copies of the photos you took of Abby Dalton, Barney?’

  Irwin hesitated, then said, ‘That was a long time ago.’

  ‘Does that mean no?’

  ‘I’d have to look.’

  ‘I tell you what,’ I said. ‘If you find any, I’ll buy them from you. Top dollar.’

  Irwin got a greedy look in his eyes.

  ‘Top dollar?’

  ‘For every photo. And the negative.’

  ‘I’ll have to look,’ he said, again.

  I took out a business card and placed it on a table.

  ‘Give me a call at the Sands when you find them.’


  ‘And what about my girls? Like Jenny? What about her? Can you get her a job in your show?’

  ‘It’s not my show,’ I said, ‘but I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘I got lots of girls like her.’

  ‘I’ll bet you do.’

  ‘I got plenty of pictures of them.’

  ‘Just the pictures of Abby Dalton for now, Barney,’ I said. ‘Let’s start there.’

  SEVEN

  We left the studio and walked to the car. Along the way we passed a buxom redhead walking quickly toward the place.

  ‘Next,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘I coulda squeezed him, ya know,’ Jerry said.

  ‘I know it, Jerry. Let’s see what my offer gets us first.’ I had the uncomfortable feeling I had played it wrong.

  ‘You really think he’ll sell you nudie pictures of Miss Dalton?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘It depends on how greedy he is. If he’s the one harassing it’s more likely he’ll come up with a bunch of cheesecake photos, just for the money, but no nudes.’

  ‘But you said nobody asked Miss Dalton for any money, yet.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So maybe it ain’t him.’

  ‘Even if he’s not the one contacting her,’ I said, ‘he’s still the one who took the photos. She didn’t say anything about posing for anyone else.’

  ‘What about pictures from movies?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘She hasn’t been naked in any movies.’

  ‘Yeah, but maybe on the set, or in her dressing room? Maybe somebody caught her when she wasn’t looking?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  We got to the Caddy and got in, Jerry behind the wheel. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

  ‘Where to?’ he asked.

  ‘Back to the Sands.’

  ‘What about somethin’ to eat?’

  ‘It’s not lunch time,’ I said.

  ‘I was thinkin’ about a snack.’

  ‘We just had breakfast.’

  ‘That was a couple of hours ago,’ he said.

  I gave in and directed Jerry to a diner. I had coffee while he polished off a burger, fries and a large Coke.

  ‘I got an idea,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why don’t we take a look in Irwin’s studio before he has a chance to get rid of anything.’

  ‘You mean break in?’

  He nodded. ‘Tonight.’

  ‘He might have gotten rid of everything by then.’

  ‘Well then, right after he closes up,’ Jerry said.

  ‘He might still take the photos home, or destroy them. I think I might’ve played this wrong, Jerry.’

  ‘All we need to do is have somebody watch him,’ Jerry said, ‘then follow him. See what he leaves with. Once we get inside we should be able to tell if he burned anything.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Breaking and entering . . .’

  ‘We done worse before.’

  ‘I know it.’

  ‘What about the private eye?’ he asked. ‘Can he watch him?’

  He meant Danny Bardini, my buddy the private eye.

  ‘I’ll give him a call, see if he’s around and available.’

  ‘Then we’ll do it?’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ I said. ‘Why not? Let’s take a look and see what ol’ Barney’s got.’

  ‘When Danny finds out where he lives, we can check that out, too.’

  ‘Jerry,’ I said, ‘why don’t we handle one break-in at a time.’

  EIGHT

  When we got back to the Sands, Jerry went looking for his cousin, and I got to a phone and called Danny’s office.

  ‘Hey, big boy,’ Penny said. ‘You haven’t been around in a while.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘that either means I’ve been busy, or I’ve been staying out of trouble. Is he around?’

  ‘He is,’ she said. ‘I’ll put you through.’

  Penny was Danny’s secretary, but she wanted to be more – both professionally, and personally. Danny trusted very few people. I was one, Penny was fighting to become another.

  ‘Hey, pit boss,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Danny, I need your talent.’

  ‘As what?’

  ‘As a PI, doofus,’ I said. ‘What else?’

  ‘I thought maybe you needed help with your love life.’

  ‘My love life is fine,’ I said, although I almost said, ‘What love life?’

  ‘Whataya need?’

  ‘You know who Abby Dalton is?’

  ‘Do I?’ he said. ‘She’s that dish who plays Joey Bishop’s wife. And she used to be on Hennessy.’

  ‘You’ve been watching a lot of TV lately.’

  ‘Yeah, well . . . never mind that,’ he said, because following that up might lead to questions about his love life. ‘You tellin’ me I’m gonna meet Abby Dalton?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Here’s the deal.’

  I gave it to him step by step, and he listened quietly, didn’t speak until I was finished.

  ‘You let the big guy talk you into breakin’ into the studio?’

  ‘Yep, that’s what happened.’

  ‘Jesus . . . whataya need me for. A lookout?’

  ‘I need you to get over there and watch him,’ I said. ‘I want to know if he leaves with anything. And I want to know where he goes. And where he lives.’

  ‘Is that all of it?’

  ‘For now.’

  ‘You don’t want my help with the break in?’

  ‘No, I think Jerry and I can handle that part.’

  ‘What about where he lives? You gonna break in there, too?’

  ‘Well . . . if we don’t find what we’re looking for at the studio.’

  ‘OK,’ Danny said, ‘so when I follow him home I’ll scope it out, look for the best ways in.’

  ‘That’d be great.’

  ‘And when do I meet the luscious Miss Dalton?’

  ‘Somewhere along the way,’ I said, ‘I’m sure that’ll happen.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ he said, ‘we gotta agree that it will happen.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘somewhere along the way it will happen.’

  ‘You know,’ he said, ‘sometimes bein’ friends with you has perks . . .’

  Yeah, I thought, like meeting Marilyn Monroe, Ava Gardner, and now Abby.

  ‘. . . but sometimes it don’t.’

  Oh yeah, like being kidnapped and tied up in a basement for days, and almost getting killed.

  ‘So I guess you’ll have to weigh up the pros and cons,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, I did that a long time ago, buddy,’ he said, ‘and you came out on top. Give me the address of the studio.’

  Irwin Studios had its hours on the door, printed on a faded card. The day being a Wednesday he closed at five p.m. We arrived at five fifteen and parked, around the corner this time.

  ‘We can’t go in the front,’ Jerry said. ‘Even an amateur like you knows that.’

  ‘I’m an amateur?’ I asked. ‘When did you become a professional burglar?’

  ‘I’m in what you call a related profession, Mr G.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘We gotta go around the back.’

  We found an alley that led behind the strip of buildings that included the studio. There were dumpsters back there, and a few of the buildings had docks for deliveries. Lucky for us, the address numbers were on the walls.

  ‘This is it,’ Jerry said. It was a green metal door, which meant that breaking it down was out of the question, even for Jerry.

  ‘Now what?’ I asked. ‘A window?’

  ‘No, I’m gonna try somethin’,’ Jerry said. He took out what looked like a case for eyeglasses. ‘Lock picks,’ he said. ‘I got ’em a few weeks ago, and I been practicin’.’

  He got down on one knee and inserted the tools into the lock. It takes precision to pick a lock, and I was surprised he could even attempt it with fingers
the size of his.

  After fifteen minutes I asked, ‘How much longer is this gonna take?’

  ‘I almost got it.’

  ‘Well, come on,’ I urged him. ‘It’s starting to get dark.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ He said, without looking at me. ‘I brought a flashlight.’

  I looked at him. He was wearing jeans and a windbreaker.

  ‘Where the hell are you carrying a flashlight?’ I asked.

  He paused long enough to go into his pocket and show it to me. It looked like a pen in his big hand. He put it back and returned his attention to the lock.

  After twenty minutes he said, ‘Got it.’

  ‘Good.’

  He reached for the door and I put my hand out to stop him.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I don’t want to find any bodies inside.’

  ‘Why would we find a body?’

  ‘I’m just putting it out there,’ I said. ‘I mean, we have a history.’

  ‘No bodies, Mr G.,’ he assured me.

  ‘OK.’

  He opened the door and we went inside.

  NINE

  It was dusk but dark inside. In another half hour it would be genuine night.

  We were in a hallway, but not the same one as last time. Jerry took out his pen light and turned it on. The beacon was remarkably bright for its size.

  ‘We gotta find an office,’ Jerry said. ‘That’s where he’ll keep his files.’

  We moved down the hall, with me following closely behind. I was careful not to step on his heels.

  Jerry used his light to find the office, off the hallway we were in.

  ‘We’re in luck,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘No windows,’ he said. ‘We can turn on a light.’

  He found a desk lamp, switched it on, then flicked off his flashlight and put it back in his pocket. The lamp was one of those with a green glass shade, most of the light being directed to the desk top. But we were still able to see the rest of the room pretty well. The desk itself was cheap metal, with many dents and one leg shorter than the other three. The top was a mess of papers and photos. Along one wall was a mismatched collection of metal file cabinets which, I assumed, contained files collected over many years. A layer of dust covered everything, but it enabled us to see which parts of the room Irwin used the most.