I'm a Fool to Kill You Page 5

  ‘Frank sent you?’ she asked. ‘How did he know I was here?’

  ‘He didn’t,’ I said. ‘Word got around that you were at the Sands this morning, and left just as abruptly as you arrived.’

  She drank some bourbon, swirled the rest in her glass, watching as it went round and round.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I saw Frank with Nancy and Tina in the lobby, and . . . I ran.’ She shrugged and looked at me. ‘I panicked and ran. All the way back here.’

  ‘Ava, Frank figures it must’ve been somethin’ very important to bring you there without calling him first.’

  ‘Important?’ she asked. ‘I guess that depends on which side you’re on, Eddie.’

  ‘Frank’s on your side, Ava,’ I said. ‘So am I.’

  She ran one hand through her short black hair, pulling at it, then shook her head.

  ‘I don’t know, Eddie,’ she said. ‘I don’t know. Things have been . . . happening.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘My life, it’s unraveling,’ she said. She looked down at her drink again, then drained it and walked back to the sidebar. She poured herself another glass, spilling a little bit from the decanter, then missing when she went to put the top back in.

  ‘Ava,’ I said, ‘maybe we should have some coffee—’

  ‘I don’t want any coffee, Eddie,’ she said, turning to face me. ‘Coffee doesn’t help. This is the only thing that helps.’ She drank from her glass.

  ‘Well then, maybe we can sit and talk about it.’

  ‘I know who you are, Eddie,’ she said, walking around the room slowly. ‘But that doesn’t mean we’re friends. Why would I talk to you?’

  ‘I told you,’ I said. ‘Frank sent me.’

  ‘Because he couldn’t come himself, right?’

  ‘He doesn’t know where you are, Ava,’ I said. ‘Maybe if we call him-’

  ‘No!’ she said, abruptly. ‘No, we can’t call Frank, not now. He’s with his family.’

  ‘I’m sure he can take some time to talk to you on the phone.’

  She dropped herself down on the sofa, letting her hands and head hang. I watched the glass she held, waiting for it to fall to the ground.

  I put my glass down and moved closer to her. There were armchairs on either side of the sofa, so I sat down in one.

  ‘Eddie, Eddie,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘it’ll take more than a phone call.’

  ‘Ava—’

  ‘Papa’s dead,’ she said. ‘He did it to himself. Maybe he had the right idea.’

  ‘Papa?’

  ‘I’ve ruined my career, my life . . .’ She lifted her head and looked at me. Her eyes were wet with tears. ‘Look at me, Eddie. Look at me. I’m hideous.’

  Good God, woman, I thought to myself, you’re a fucking Goddess! Even looking tired, worn out, with tears in her eyes, she was a Goddess.

  ‘Eddie—’ she said, and then the glass dropped.

  As it hit the floor and shattered she keeled over. I might have caught the glass, but instead I caught her. Suddenly, I had my arms full of Ava Gardner, but not the way I might have dreamed it.

  FOURTEEN

  I lifted her in my arms and carried her to the bedroom. The bed was made, so I laid her right on top of the spread. I lifted her head, pulled a pillow out from beneath the covers, then lowered her head gently on to it. I stood up and looked down at her.

  Ava Gardner, every man’s dark Goddess, as opposed to Marilyn, who had been every man’s blonde Goddess. But Marilyn was gone. Ava was still here. I’d failed Marilyn, hadn’t been able to help her. Maybe I’d be able to help Ava. When she woke up.

  I left the bedroom and pulled the door closed behind me. That was when I remembered I’d left Larry the cab driver in the Polo Lounge. I went out the front door, also closing it gently behind me. Right now what Ava needed was sleep. I decided when I came back I’d bring her some food and coffee. But at the moment I had to settle with Larry.

  I followed the path back to the hotel and found that business in the Polo Lounge had picked up considerably. Larry must have been happily ogling movie stars. I wondered how a cab driver in Hollywood had avoided becoming jaded.

  I peered into the lounge and didn’t see Larry at the bar. A man walking out stopped short when he saw me, then smiled and stuck out his hand.

  ‘Eddie,’ Johnny Carson said. ‘What a surprise seein’ you here.’

  ‘Hey, Johnny’ I said, ‘how’s the Tonight Show goin’?’

  He had recently taken over the show from Jack Paar, which were some big shoes to fill.

  ‘They haven’t fired me yet. Saddled me with this big jamoke named Ed McMohan. I think they’re going to have to dump him, or I’ll only be doin’ this for a couple of years. Good to see you, Ed.’

  ‘You, too, John.’

  As I reached the front desk I noticed there was some commotion in the lobby. A crowd was gathered, excited about something. I heard the word ‘ambulance’ and went to the desk.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked the clerk.

  ‘Fella left the Polo Lounge and when he got outside somebody attacked him.’

  ‘What fella?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ the clerk said. ‘I think he was a cab driver.’

  ‘Cab driver? What happened, exactly?’

  ‘Like I said. Somebody attacked him, beat him up. They took him away in an ambulance.’

  ‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘What the hell . . .’

  The clerk shrugged.

  ‘He got a call, and when he went outside—’

  ‘A call? When?’

  ‘A little while ago,’ he said. ‘One of our bell hops went through the lobby, and into the Polo Lounge, paging . . . somebody.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And . . . he took the call.’

  ‘Where is he?’ I asked. ‘The boy?’

  The clerk rang the bell on his desk and an old guy appeared. He looked to be about sixty.

  ‘This is Randy,’ the clerk said.

  ‘Randy, my name is Eddie Gianelli.’

  ‘You’re Mr Gianelli?’

  ‘That’s right. The man you paged with a call earlier . . .’

  ‘The call was for an Eddie Gianelli,’ Randy said, ‘but the cab driver, he took it.’

  ‘That’s because he was waiting for me,’ I said.

  ‘The guy who got beat up?’ Randy asked, looking surprised. ‘He was with you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘the guy who got beat up.’ I looked at the clerk. ‘Can you find out what hospital he was taken to?’

  ‘Sure, Mr Gianelli.’

  ‘And his condition,’ I said. ‘Whether or not they kept him there.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll find out everything,’ the clerk said.

  ‘Thanks. Oh, and I need some food to take to Miss Gardner – I mean, to Miss Johnson’s bungalow.’

  ‘Just tell me what you want,’ Randy said, ‘and I’ll bring it over personally as soon as it’s ready.’

  ‘No, no,’ I said, changing my mind. ‘She’s asleep now. I’ll call when I want the food.’

  ‘What would you like?’ the clerk asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘A hamburger platter . . . maybe a steak dinner? And a large pot of coffee, with two cups.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Iced water,’ I said.

  When I got back to Ava’s bungalow I looked in on her. She was still asleep. I picked up my glass and freshened it with some bourbon. I’m sure a cab driver got into a lot of arguments during the course of a day, but had Larry gotten somebody mad enough at him to wait outside the hotel and beat him up?

  Or had he been beaten up because he took a call in my name?

  Was that supposed to be me in the ambulance, and if so, why?

  FIFTEEN

  I called Jack, filled him in, told him where I was. He said he’d pass the information on to Frank.

  It was late in the afternoon when the phone rang. By then I had talked to the ho
spital and found out Larry’s last name, and his condition. I snatched it up on the first ring, so it wouldn’t wake Ava.

  ‘Eddie? How is she?’

  ‘She’s asleep now, Frank, has been for a couple of hours. I have the feeling it’s the first sleep she’s gotten for a while.’

  ‘But did you get a chance to talk to her?’

  ‘Briefly, but she didn’t tell me much. Just that her life was unraveling.’

  ‘She’s told me that on the phone, too,’ he said, ‘but not why.’

  ‘She’s not very forthcoming about that, Frank,’ I said. ‘And if she won’t tell you, she certainly won’t tell me.’

  ‘Maybe she will,’ Frank said. ‘Keep asking, Eddie. I can’t come there right now, but maybe in a few days . . .’

  ‘She knows you’re with your family. She understands.’

  ‘Eddie . . . is she drinkin’?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A lot?’

  ‘Who can tell what a lot is, Frank?’ I said. ‘She’s sleeping because she passed out. Maybe from exhaustion, maybe from drinkin’, maybe a combination of both.’

  ‘OK,’ Frank said. ‘OK, Eddie. You need anything?’

  ‘Some answers.’

  ‘For what?’

  I told him about the cabbie picking up a call for me, and then being hauled off to the hospital.

  ‘How bad was he hurt?’

  ‘I talked to some sawbones a little while ago. He was hurt badly enough to be admitted, but he’s not in danger of dying. Some broken bones and a lot of bruises,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna go and see him when I get a chance, and I want to take care of his medical bills.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Frank said. ‘You can count on me.’

  I had planned on the Sands footing the bill, but I said, ‘Thanks, Frank.’

  ‘Why do you think he was jumped?’

  ‘I’ll know more when I’ve spoken to him. Maybe whoever beat him up said something. I still don’t know if he was jumped because he’s him, or they thought he was me.’

  ‘Why would somebody wanna jump you?’ he asked. ‘You’re only there because of Ava.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I need answers, from the cabbie and from Ava.’

  ‘Maybe she’s in trouble, Eddie,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘and maybe I am too.’

  SIXTEEN

  The phone call had caused Ava to stir. I figured she was close to waking up, so I called the desk and asked for the food to be delivered to the room. The knock at the door when Randy arrived did what the phone couldn’t do. As I was setting the food on the table, Ava came out of the bedroom, rubbing her face.

  ‘Eddie?’

  ‘That’s me,’ I said.

  ‘I–I thought it was a fucking dream.’

  ‘Nope,’ I said. ‘I’m here. You hungry?’

  ‘No,’ she said, as if the thought of food made her sick, ‘I have a fucking headache and I need a shower.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘have a shower, and then you can at least have some coffee.’

  ‘Coffee,’ she said. ‘OK, that doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll be right out.’

  I nodded, and she went back into the bedroom, leaving the door open. Next I heard the shower turn on and – despite my best efforts – I couldn’t help imagining Ava under the spray, soaping herself.

  I set the food out on the table, a burger-and-fries platter and a full steak dinner, as I had ordered. I didn’t know which one I would eat. I figured once Ava came out of the shower she’d be hungry, and I planned to let her have her choice.

  I had a cup of coffee while I waited, trying to drown out the sound of the water. Even if Ava was in trouble, why would somebody have wanted to jump me? I’d only just come on the scene. I didn’t even know anything yet.

  I carried my coffee cup to the front window and looked out. Was there somebody still lurking out there? It was getting dark. What would they do when they had the cover of darkness to help them?

  I heard the water go off, so I walked to the coffee pot and poured out a cup. Ava came out of the bedroom wearing a silk robe tightly belted at her waist. Her hair was wet, skin still damp, which made the silk do interesting things to her body. I could easily tell that her nipples were not only large, but dark.

  I was in better shape when she was in the shower. At least I could try to block the images from my mind. There was no blocking out the way she looked in that robe.

  I handed her the coffee.

  ‘Thank you.’ She sipped it. ‘Suddenly I’m a bit hungry.’

  I lifted the covers from both trays.

  ‘Burger or steak?’ I asked.

  ‘Believe it or not, I’m a burger-and-fries girl,’ she said. ‘My rural upbringing.’

  ‘Burger it is, then,’ I said, moving the plate over in front of her as she sat down. I sat and pulled the steak plate in front of me. I didn’t care for brussels sprouts, but the baked potato looked good.

  I poured two glasses of cold water.

  ‘I suppose you called Frank?’ she asked.

  ‘I spoke to him.’

  ‘Is he coming?’

  ‘Uh, no,’ I said. When I saw her face fall I added, ‘I told him not to.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’

  ‘Because something’s going on,’ I said, ‘and I want to find out what it is before I give Frank the all clear.’

  ‘You’re protecting him?’

  ‘I hope I’m protecting us all,’ I said.

  ‘From what?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping you’ll tell me.’

  She lifted the burger and bit into it – a real bite, not a dainty lady bite. Even without make-up she was easily the most beautiful woman I had ever seen eat a hamburger.

  I picked up my knife and fork and cut a hunk of steak. It was a bit chewy. I’d had much better at the Sands.

  ‘Ava?’

  ‘Why do you want to get yourself involved in my problems, Eddie?’ she asked, wearily.

  ‘Because I want to help you.’

  ‘Because Frank asked you?’

  ‘That’s part of it.’

  ‘What’s the other part?’

  ‘Maybe it’s because I fell in love with you when I saw One Touch of Venus,’ I said, ‘or it could be the shower scene in Mogambo.’

  She finished chewing, swallowed and smiled.

  ‘Is any of that fucking true?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘maybe the Mogambo part.’

  ‘Everybody fell in love with Grace Kelly in that movie,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, not everybody,’ I said. ‘Definitely not me.’

  She popped a French fry in her mouth and said, ‘You’re sweet.’

  ‘And you’re being evasive.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘I’m trying to eat.’ She took one more bite of the hamburger and then put it down with an air of finality.

  ‘Jesus, I must look a fucking sight,’ she said, suddenly.

  ‘Ava—’

  She stood up.

  ‘I have to get dressed and put my face on,’ she said. She headed for the bedroom.

  ‘What about your burger?’

  ‘You finish it.’

  The steak wasn’t getting any better so I grabbed her burger and took a bite. Well done. I put it down. I had a couple of fries, wondering if she had any reason to go out a window. Or maybe there were French doors from the bedroom.

  Why would Ava run from me?

  SEVENTEEN

  I went out the front door and around to the side. It was almost dark, and the light was on in the bedroom. I peered in her window, saw her seated in front of a vanity applying her make-up, wearing only a pair of panties. I stared at her beautiful back for a few moments too long and started to feel like a peeping ton, so I quickly backed away. It seemed to suddenly get dark and I became nervous about getting jumped, like Larry, so I hurried back to the front door and went inside.

  I was sitting at the table, nibbling on fries, when s
he came back out wearing a pair of tight blue capris and a white blouse with cropped sleeves. Her hair was still damp, but it looked like she meant it to be that way. She had done her eyes up with lashes and eye shadow, and her lips were red. She looked great.

  ‘Did you enjoy the view?’ she asked.

  ‘The view?’

  ‘From outside my window.’

  ‘I, uh, was just making sure you didn’t, uh . . .’ I stammered.

  ‘You thought I was going to go out the fucking window?’ she asked, laughing. ‘Why the hell would I do that?’

  ‘I don’t know, Ava,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what you’re runnin’ from.’

  ‘What makes you think I’m running from anything?’ she demanded.

  ‘Because you’ve either been runnin’ or hidin’ since this morning,’ I said.

  ‘Jesus,’ she said, ‘has it only been one day?’

  She sat down in an armchair.

  ‘I need a cigarette.’

  I looked around. There was a box on a nearby table, and a lighter. I handed her one and lit it for her.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, as she let out a plume of smoke.

  ‘How long has it been, Ava?’ I asked. ‘How long have you been running?’

  She put one hand to her head.

  ‘Eddie, that’s just it,’ she said. ‘I really don’t know.’

  ‘When were you last at home? In Spain?’

  ‘Days ago, I guess,’ she said. ‘There’s been a lot of drinking, a lot of . . . men, since I finished the shoot on Fifty-Five Days with Chuck Heston. That . . . didn’t go that well. The rushes . . . my skin looks like . . . parchment in that movie.’

  ‘I doubt your skin could ever look like that, Ava,’ I said.

  She glanced up at me and I wanted to fall into her eyes – as much of a cliché as that sounds. She grabbed my hand, held the back of it to her cheek.

  ‘You don’t think so, Eddie?’ she asked. ‘You don’t think it feels . . . rough?’

  I rubbed my hand along her face and said, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything smoother, or softer.’

  Then I got self-conscious and pulled my hand away. She was, after all, Frank’s ex, and I was there representing him.

  She drew on the cigarette again and said, ‘I decided to leave Spain for a while, travel . . . Actually, that’s not true. I was approached to be in a film that Blake Edwards is shooting in Rome called The Pink Panther. The Producer, Martin Jurow, came to see me. He found me in Madrid and practically begged me to be in it. It should have been flattering, but instead it went to my head. I was . . . horrible to them, demanded that they move the shoot from Rome to Madrid to accommodate me. Finally, Jurow slipped a note underneath my door.’