Stuart Kaminsky: Show Business is Murder

Dole’s car was parked near the back of the lot and she could see him seated behind the wheel. She opened the passenger door and slid in beside him. “It went smoothly, but that was the last time. Pay me off and I’ll say goodbye.”

When Dole didn’t answer she thought he had dozed off waiting for her. She gave him a jab to wake him up and that was when she felt the knife in his side, buried up to the hilt.

WANDA LEFT THEcar quickly, pausing only to wipe her fingerprints from the door handle. If Judd had found out about the scheme, she could be next. She could be in big trouble. She drove to her apartment and went quickly inside, remembering to enter the code and disarm the security system.

They found his body about an hour later, and it was a story on the morning news even before they’d announced his identity. Wanda spent most of Friday debating whether she should show up for her performance that night or hop the next plane back to New York. She wanted to get out of town fast and forget the whole thing, but fleeing might appear to be the action of a guilty person. And Judd paid her for the week on Fridays, when he could calculate the handle for the three nights she worked. She hated to leave without her week’s pay.

So she showed up as usual on Friday at quarter to nine. For once Judd wasn’t at the door to greet her, and the bartender pointed toward his office. “The cops are questioning him about that killing.”

“What killing is that?” Wanda asked innocently.

“Fellow named Sam Dole, a small-time operator from back east. He tried to shake down some Atlantic City casinos and they think he was trying something out here that got him killed.”

Wanda shrugged. “You never know.” She hung up her coat and pulled the hood over her hair, then climbed up to the turntable with the real blindfold. In total darkness once more, she had no idea what number she hit until the croupier called out, “Nineteen red.” Double zero came up the next time and it wasn’t until nearly ten o’clock that Judd Franklyn reappeared with the two detectives.

One of them watched Wanda go through her performance and as she left the wheel he stopped her and asked to examine the blindfold. “Sure,” she said and handed it over.

“Fine,” he said after holding it to the light and poking at the padding. “Just checking.”

Judd Franklyn came over to her as the two detectives left. “Some punk got himself killed last night so they’re checking with the casino owners. One of my chips was in his pocket and they came here. No cash on him. It was probably just a robbery.”

“Did you know him?”

“Not by name. They showed me his picture and I think he was here a few times. Hell, am I supposed to remember every face I see?”

She performed the rest of her appearances until midnight, then received her week’s check from Judd. “Maybe I’ll take off next week,” she said, testing the waters.

“Take off? You can’t do that. We got a contract!”

“Do you really need me?”

“Damn right I do! I got customers only come here on your nights.”

“We’ll see how I feel on Monday.”

She walked out to the bar and was surprised to see Minnie Brewer at the wheel, placing a bet on the spin of the white volleyball. “I didn’t get here in time to see you tonight,” she told Wanda. “I was over at the Sands.”

“You didn’t miss a thing.” She asked the bartender for a tonic. “Sorry to hear about your friend.”

Minnie gave her a puzzled look. “Which friend is that?”

“Sam Dole, the man who was killed. I saw you talking to him one night.”

“You make friends fast around a roulette wheel, especially this one. Watching you is like, I don’t know, watching an Olympic gymnast.”

Wanda laughed, deciding it was meant as a compliment. “Well, thanks.”

“Anyway, I didn’t know that Dole person you mentioned. If I was talking to him it was just idle conversation.”

Wanda nodded. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Thanks but I just finished one. Got to concentrate on the numbers.” She put some chips on Even and was rewarded when six black came up.

Wanda got her cape and went out to the car. The traffic always seemed heavier on Friday nights and it was close to one o’clock before she turned into the apartment parking lot. Someone was waiting in the shadows near her door and she grew apprehensive until she recognized young Rick Dodson.

“When’s the article going to appear?” she asked, repeating her usual question.

“Sunday, I think. Can I come in?”

“It’s pretty late for socializing.”

“I’ve got another question for you.”

“All right. Come on in.” She unlocked the door and turned on the lights, tossing her keys and purse on the table. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, no thanks.”

She settled down on the couch opposite him. “Now what’s your question?”

He took something from his pocket and showed it to her. It was a blindfold, a mate of the one she’d worn for Sam Dole. “Do you want to keep on, working with me instead of Sam?”

Wanda took a deep breath. “You killed him, didn’t you? You were never a reporter writing a story. You were getting information on me for Sam, so he could decide if I’d be likely to go along with his scheme.”

“Forget about Sam,” he told her, waving away her words.

“Why did you kill him, Rick?”

“I’m the one who thought of the idea and he was cutting me out of my share. I was supposed to bet the final five thousand but he was on the other side of the wheel placing a bet, too. We won sixteen grand, not eleven, and he wouldn’t give me the cut he’d promised.”

“I should have known when I saw you there again the other night. You were Sam’s betting partner. I thought it was a young woman he was talking to.”

“Sam was always talking to young women. That was another problem between us. But never mind him. Are you in this with me?”

“No, not when there’s been a murder. You’re on your own.”

He took the knife from his pocket and the blade sprang open. It could have been a mate to the one that killed Dole. “You don’t understand. If you’re not with me on this you’re against me. I can’t have you talking to the police.”

“I already have, Rick. When I saw you waiting for me just now I suddenly knew you were Dole’s partner. He mentioned once that this roulette wheel stunt was better than sitting in a bird cage all day. But you were the only one I’d told that to, and your article for the magazine hadn’t yet appeared. He could only have heard about the bird cage from you.”

He was shaking his head, playing with the knife. “You didn’t talk to the police. You haven’t gone near the phone.”

“I didn’t need to. I simply neglected to punch in the code to deactivate the security system. The police should be here right about now.”

The knocking came right on cue, and a voice called out, “Police! Are you all right, Miss Cirrus?”

“No I’m not, officer,” she said, hurrying to open the door before Rick Dodson could decide what to do. “I’ll tell you about it.”

DODSON WASN’T THEsort to keep secrets. He waived his rights and confessed to the murder as soon as they got him downtown. Wanda slept all day Saturday and part of Sunday, then got up and thought about the future. Instead of heading for the airport, she had her costume dry cleaned and went back to Judd Franklyn’s wheel on Monday night. It may not have been art, but it sure was show business.

HE BEGAN EMPTYINGthe pockets of his suits methodically, collecting the scraps of paper, napkins, receipts, all of which he’d dropped, stored, left, forgotten but not, sometimes crumpled, one time or another in various pockets. He made several trips into the kitchen and only after studying each piece of paper did he put it in its proper place on the kitchen table. The order was important. It explained everything.