Robert Randisi - I'm a fool to kill you

‘Well then. . what?’

‘Why are you going to L.A.?’ he asked. ‘You did what I asked you to do. You found out if it was her, and it was. And she’s gone. Go back to work.’

‘I can’t do that, Jack.’

‘Why not?’

‘Frank wants me to find her, and see what she was doing here.’

‘So you had to talk to Frank?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘don’t worry, I trod lightly, as you suggested.’

‘I’m sure you did.’

‘I’ll go talk to Frank now,’ I said. ‘Would you call him and see if he’s in his suite?’

‘And if he isn’t I’ll locate him for you,’ he said. ‘And I’ll get you your flight.’

‘Which the Sands will pay for?’

‘Of course,’ he said, with the phone in his hand. I heard a buzz from the outer office and then he said, ‘See if you can locate Frank Sinatra for me. Thanks.’ He hung up without saying his girl’s name. I wondered if I’d ever heard it, then decided I didn’t care enough to ask.

‘I’ll get packed,’ I said, rising from my chair. ‘I’ll check in with you to see where Frank is.’

By the time I packed an overnight bag, using just what I had in my locker, Jack had found Frank and arranged for me to meet him for a drink in the Silver Queen Lounge. Frank was sitting at the bar, having just signed autographs for a couple of middle-aged broads. There was a drink on the bar in front of him.

‘Glad to see you, Clyde,’ he said. ‘Do you know that most of the time, if I’m sitting with somebody, folks don’t bother me for autographs? It’s when I’m sittin’ alone they think they can come over.’

‘Guess they figure they’re not interruptin’ anything, Frank,’ I said.

‘You wanna drink?’

‘Just a beer,’ I said. ‘I’m headin’ for the airport.’

‘This about Ava?’ he asked, after waving at the bartender to bring me a beer.

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘I’m goin’ to L.A. Apparently she stopped there and didn’t catch another flight to, well. . anywhere.’

‘Not to Spain?’

‘No.’

‘So where is she now?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘That’s what I’m goin’ there to find out.’

‘Eddie, I didn’t mean for you to miss work-’

‘Don’t worry, the Sands will pay me, and take care of my expenses.’

‘You sure Jack will do that?’ Frank asked. ‘I mean, if you need money-’

‘No, I’m fine, Frank,’ I said. ‘Just a quick flight to L.A. and a little talk with Ava, once I find her.’

‘Try the Beverly Hills Hotel,’ Frank said. ‘You might find her there in a bungalow.’

‘Maybe I could call-’

‘She wouldn’t use her real name,’ he said. ‘And the staff would cover for her. No, you’re right, you’ll have to go and see if she’s there.’

‘OK.’

‘I wonder why she flew under her real name?’ Frank asked.

‘That’s somethin’ else I’ll ask her,’ I said.

‘Call me as soon as you see her,’ Frank said. ‘In fact, you can put her on the phone with me. Maybe then we’ll get some answers.’

‘OK, Frank.’

I got off the bar stool without having touched my beer. He grabbed my arm.

‘Sit down a minute,’ he said. ‘There are things you should know about Ava.’

I sat, sipped my beer.

‘Like what?’

‘She’s at an age where she’s feeling vulnerable. You’ve got to be careful with her.’

Vulnerable was not a word I had heard used to describe Ava Gardner. Fiery, maybe, even wild. Not vulnerable.

‘What do you mean?’

‘She’s not happy,’ Frank said. ‘She thinks she’s gettin older.’

‘We’re all gettin’ older, Frank.’

‘Ava doesn’t like what she sees when she looks in the mirror,’ Frank said. ‘And she’s become hard to get along with. She gave them a helluva time on her last film, Fifty-Five Days at Peking .’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I got it from Chuck Heston and Bernie Gordon, the screenwriter. Gordon says she was drinkin’ a lot. Heston says her behavior was the worst he’s ever seen from a colleague.’ Frank shrugged. ‘He’s a bit of a stiff, but she still musta been pretty bad.’

‘So she’s a drunk?’

‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘but I think her problems go further than just drying out.’

‘You try to talk to her about it?’

‘I called her a couple of times, but we got into fights,’ he said. ‘But if I could see her face to face. . maybe I could get her to open up.’ He looked at me. ‘Or maybe you can.’

‘Me? She doesn’t even know me.’

‘I think I mentioned you to her once or twice,’ he said. ‘And you’re good with people, Eddie. You’re real good. Look what you did for Marilyn.’

‘I got there too late,’ I said. In answer to her call I’d driven the night she died from Vegas to L.A. to see Marilyn but there were cops all over there when I arrived.

‘We were all too late for Marilyn, Eddie,’ Frank said. ‘Too little, or too late. But I don’t want that to be the case with Ava.’

‘I understand, Frank,’ I said. ‘I’ll do what I can. I promise.’

‘Thanks, Eddie,’ he said. ‘Thanks a lot.’

When I got to the airport in L.A. I met with security man Ben Hoff, he of the gruff voice, a big, beefy guy in his thirties who pumped my hand enthusiastically. He had black hair that was soaked with Brylcreem.

‘Glad to meet ya, Eddie,’ he said. ‘Real glad.’

‘Did you find me a cab driver, Ben?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, I found the guy who picked her up,’ he said. ‘Come on. When you called me from McCarran I got ahold of him and made him wait in the security office. He’s a little pissed off, but I told him it would be worth his while.’

‘How worth his while?’

‘Fifty should do it.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’

Maybe I should have taken some expense money from Frank, after all.

Hoff walked me to the security office where a small, middle-aged man was sitting on a stool, his knees bouncing up and down with anxiety.

‘Hey, Ben,’ he said, popping to his feet when he saw Hoff, ‘come on, I gotta make a livin’.’

‘Take it easy, Larry,’ Hoff said, ‘this is the fella I was tellin’ you about. Wants ta talk to you.’

‘My name’s Eddie Gianelli, Larry,’ I said. ‘I’m trying to find Ava Gardner. Ben tells me she was in your cab this morning.’

Larry’s eyes narrowed and took on a crafty glint in his eyes.

‘She mighta been,’ he said. ‘I get lots of broads in my cab.’

‘Yeah, well this one you’d remember, wouldn’t you?’ I asked.

I looked at Ben Hoff, who nodded at me.

I took a fifty from my wallet and held it out to Larry.

‘That’s all I get?’ the cab driver asked.

‘Take it, Larry,’ Hoff snapped.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Larry said, snatching the bill from my hand, ‘so she was in my cab.’

‘Where did you take her?’

He hesitated.

‘Larry!’ Hoff said.

‘I drove her to the Beverly Hills Hotel.’

‘OK,’ I said, ‘take me there.’

‘For how much?’

‘The going rate,’ I said, ‘plus twenty bucks.’

‘I’m your man,’ Larry said. He grabbed my suitcase from my hand. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Thanks, Ben,’ I said, shaking the security man’s hand.

‘Anytime, Eddie.’

‘See you in Vegas,’ I said, and followed the cabbie.

Larry stopped his cab in front of the hotel and hesitated before getting out.

‘Did you wait to see her walk in?’ I asked.

‘Well. . I watched her walk, if that’s what ya mean,’ Larry said. ‘Come on, it’s Ava Gardner, right? So yeah, I saw her go in.’