It Was a Very Bad Year (7 page)

Jerry shrugged. ‘So we decided to wait a while to see if he came home.'

‘That sounds plausible.'

‘It's all plausible,' Jerry said, ‘just as long as when you lie, you stick to it.'

I
walked into Clipper's just before six. I wondered why Irwin had picked this place. One of the strip clubs near his house might have been better for him.

I saw him first, didn't spot Danny right away, but then saw him sitting at the very end of the bar. Beyond him I could see the foyer with pay phones, and restrooms. I don't even know how I missed him. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, with vivid yellows, oranges and reds. But I figured he must know what he was doing, because I
did
miss him, at first.

Clipper's was a typical neighborhood joint, the same as in Brooklyn, LA, or Vegas. A worn bar, chafed wooden floors, the smell of booze, smoke and sweat. The locals would all turn whenever the door opened, greet regulars or stare at strangers for a few moments before turning back to their drinks.

Danny saw me, played it so relaxed he almost looked sleepy.

Irwin spotted me and jerked his head. He got up from the bar with a beer and walked to a booth. I got a beer from the bartender, and joined him. His clothes were still glaring. I mean, who
ever
wears white shoes? Except Pat Boone.

‘I put this on your tab,' I told him, sitting.

‘Yeah, yeah,' he said, sourly. He was wearing a short-sleeved, button-down shirt, and I could smell that he didn't use deodorant. It was hot, but it was more sweat from nerves than from heat.

‘You got something for me?' I asked.

He looked around the place, then raised his hand. The bartender came out from behind the bar carrying a brown envelope that looked like it had been used as a coaster.

Irwin put the envelope on the table and slid it across to me.

‘This is what you want,' he said.

I pushed my beer aside and opened the envelope. We were out of sight in the booth so I pulled the contents out. Photos and negatives. I put the negatives back into the envelope. The photos were all eight by tens of a young Abby Dalton. They were cheesecake, mostly bathing-suit shots, all one piece, but revealing. I stuffed them back into the envelope, pushed it aside and grabbed my beer.

‘Not what I wanted, Barney,' I said.

‘Whataya mean?' he asked. ‘Those are the pictures I got of the kid.'

‘None of these are nudes.'

‘I don't do—'

‘You forget what you were doing when we walked in on you yesterday?' I asked.

‘That was – I didn't used to do that back then,' he said. ‘Things is tough, so I'm doin' it now.'

‘I don't buy it,' I said. ‘You expect me to believe you had a dish like Abby Dalton in front of your lens and you didn‘t try to get her naked?'

‘I didn't say I didn't try,' he said. ‘I tried like hell, but she wouldn't go for it. She had too much class.'

Abby had all but admitted to me that there were nude photos. A teenager anxious for fame can be forgiven for a lapse in judgment, no matter how classy she actually was.

‘Barney—'

‘I'm tellin' ya,' he said, spreading his hands, ‘I got no nudes of her. If I did I'd sell 'em to ya, and not cheap.'

If he had them, they were well hidden, but for Abby's benefit I couldn't take his word for it. I was probably going to have to let Jerry squeeze him.

‘All right,' I put my hand on the envelope, ‘I'll give you a thousand dollars for these.'

‘You gotta be kiddin' me,' he said, scoffing. ‘These shots are worth more than a thousand bucks if I wanna shop 'em around.'

‘Then why haven't you shopped them?'

‘I was waitin'.'

‘For what?'

‘I figured maybe the kid would become a movie star,' he said. ‘They'd be worth more then.'

‘Fifteen hundred,' I said.

Irwin smiled then.

‘She wants 'em, huh?' he asked. ‘She told you to buy 'em, even if they weren't nudies.'

I didn't answer.

‘Ten grand,' he said. ‘Take it or leave it.'

I thought I could get him down to the five she gave me, and was still convinced he had nudes. If I was going to give Jerry his chance to squeeze Irwin, this was it.

‘OK,' I said.

‘You got it with you?' His eyes glittered.

‘No, she didn't give me that much.'

‘How much did she give you?'

‘Never mind,' I said. ‘You want ten grand, I'll get you ten grand.'

‘When?'

‘Tomorrow.'

‘Meet me here.'

‘I don't like it here,' I said, looking around.

‘Why not?' he asked. ‘What's wrong with this place?'

‘The beer sucks.' He looked at my mug, which I hadn't even lifted yet. ‘I'll call you at your studio tomorrow and tell you where.'

‘Oh, no,' he said, ‘I pick the place.'

‘If you want ten grand,' I said, ‘then I pick it.'

He thought about that a moment, then reached out, put his hand on the envelope and slid it back to his side of the table.

‘Yeah, OK, call me. But when we meet, you better have the dough with you.'

‘I'll have it.'

‘Ten thousand.'

‘That's what we just said.'

‘OK,' he said, sliding out of the booth. ‘Call me, or these might find a new home.' He fanned himself with the envelope.

‘Barney,' I said, ‘don't make me regret being nice to you.'

O
utside of Clipper's, I looked for Jerry, but if he was there he was better at blending in than Danny was.

Speak of the devil, Danny came walking out of the bar. I headed for my car, got behind the wheel and waited for him to join me.

‘That's a great disguise,' I said, when he slid into the passenger seat. ‘Why didn't you shoot off some flares, while you were at it?'

‘See,' he said, ‘this is why I'm the pro and you're the pit boss. When people see a shirt like this, they rarely look at your face. Admit it, when you walked in you didn't see me right away.'

‘Never mind that,' I said. ‘He didn't have the right photos.'

‘I noticed you let him keep the envelope.'

‘We made a deal for ten grand,' I said. ‘I'm supposed to meet with him tomorrow.'

‘Where?'

‘I haven't decided,' I said. ‘Someplace . . . quiet.'

‘Quiet?'

‘Yeah, I'm going to have Jerry with me,' I said. ‘I think I might let him ask Irwin about the photos one more time.'

‘Ask?'

‘Ask.'

‘Ah,' Danny said, ‘someplace quiet.'

‘Yes.'

‘Maybe I can come up with something. You think Irwin will show?'

‘He will if he wants his ten grand.'

‘Where is the big guy?' Danny asked. ‘I know he wouldn't let you come here alone.'

‘He's around here somewhere,' I said, ‘probably not wearing an ugly Hawaiian shirt.'

‘Ugly? Penny said this shirt had character.'

‘I think she meant it makes you look like a character.'

‘Ha-ha.' He opened the car door. ‘My heap is around the corner. If you need me to do anything else, let me know.'

‘Thanks, Danny,' I said. ‘I will.'

I watched him walk down the street until he turned the corner. I was about to start the car when Jerry appeared at my elbow.

‘Shove over, Mr G.,' he said. ‘I'll drive.'

Jerry said he wanted barbecue so I took him to a place I knew just a few blocks away.

‘I discovered ribs last year,' he said, working on the first of two racks. ‘I had a job makin' a pick-up from this Texan who thought he was gonna come to New York and score big. Well, he lost and introduced me to ribs just before I broke his arm and collected the debt.'

I picked up a rib from my half rack and gnawed on it.

‘I mean, I knew what ribs was from, you know, Chinese food, but I was pretty much a steak, burger and hot dog guy until Bubba offered me some ribs.'

‘Chinese ribs are pork,' I said. ‘These are beef.'

‘Well, that explains it then.'

‘So this guy Bubba, he offered you ribs not to hurt him?'

‘No, he pretty much knew I was gonna hurt him,' Jerry said. ‘He was just bein' polite. When I found him he was eatin', so he offered me some.'

‘And you broke his arm, anyway?'

‘I was supposed to break his legs, but he was a nice guy, and he wanted to leave town so . . .' He shrugged, ‘I figured I'd let him walk.'

‘OK.' I dropped the last bone on to my plate.

‘How did it go in the bar?'

I told him about the deal I'd made with Irwin for Abby's pictures.

‘Ten grand?' Jerry said. ‘You're gonna give that asshole ten large?'

‘No,' I said, ‘I just told him that so he'd meet us somewhere.'

‘Us?'

‘Yeah, us. I'm going to give you your shot at Mr Irwin.'

‘I get to squeeze him?'

‘Yeah,' I said, ‘but that doesn't mean you get to break anything. At least, not till I say so.'

‘Yeah, well, your call, Mr G.'

I started working on my fries. Jerry had dumped about half a bottle of ketchup and a pound of salt on his.

‘He didn't show you any naked stuff?' he asked.

‘No, just cheesecake. I think he's holding the nudes back. If he is, you're going to squeeze them out of him.'

‘Yeah, I am,' Jerry said, with a barbecue-sauce-smeared grin.

E
ven before I entered the lobby of the Sands I knew something was wrong. I had eaten my breakfast that day without benefit of the TV or radio, and driven directly to the casino. I still needed to work out where Jerry and I would meet Barney Irwin in order to squeeze the Abby Dalton photos out of him. We would need someplace quiet, just in case it became necessary for Jerry to break something.

As I entered the lobby, though, the climate was one of panic. People were running across the lobby, panicked, toward no apparent destination. One of the girls behind the counter was crying, and over by the pay phone a man was consoling another weeping woman. I looked around, expecting to see the cause of these reactions, but nothing was immediately evident. I scanned what was becoming a crowd in the lobby, looking for an employee I could ask, but finally had to walk to the front desk.

The hysterical girl was the same one who had given me Barney Irwin's message. I still hadn't found out her name.

‘What's going on?' I asked her.

‘You don't know? Oh, Mr Gianelli – Eddie, it's terrible.'

‘What is?'

‘The President,' she said. ‘Somebody shot the President.'

‘The President.' Just for a moment I thought, President of what? ‘Wait . . . you mean . . . JFK?'

She nodded, held a handkerchief to her nose and began to sob.

I knew I'd get nothing else coherent out of her, so I made for the elevators, figured I'd go somewhere I knew there'd be a television.

When I got to Entratter's office I found his girl at her desk, in much the same condition as the girl at the front desk. She even neglected to sneer at me.

I entered Jack's office, found him standing in front of a large color TV in his wall. Color TV's were still not in everyone's home at that time, but the appearance of
The Wonderful World of Disney
as a weekly series in 1961 sure sent a lot of people scurrying for them.

‘What's goin' on?' I asked.

He looked at me over his shoulder, then back at the TV. He was standing with his back straight, his arms folded.

‘No word yet on his condition,' he said. ‘We just know he was shot while in his motorcade.'

‘In the car? What about the first lady?'

‘Nobody said anything about her.'

I joined him in front of the TV.

‘Jesus,' I said.

‘Yeah.'

‘It's a madhouse downstairs.'

‘Yeah.'

‘I didn't hear anything until I walked in.'

‘It's all over the TV and radio.'

‘I didn't turn either of them on this morning.'

It was all very surreal, the panic in the lobby, and the coverage on the TV. The usually stolid Walter Cronkite appeared shaken up. Cronkite was like everybody's uncle. To see him upset just added to the unsettling feeling of it all.

We stood side by side for quite a while, just watching the reports. After the fact that Kennedy had been shot it was all supposition, but a lot of people were doing the supposing.

After a few minutes I asked, ‘Do we know where Frank is?'

Entratter let out a breath, as if he'd been holding it for a long time. ‘I think he's home, in Palm Springs.'

‘He must be taking this hard.'

From the outer office we could hear the sound of Jack's girl, blubbering.

‘Hold on,' he said.

He walked out and I heard him tell the girl to go home, they weren't going to get much work done that day. She didn't argue. When he came back in he picked up his phone and called the hotel room service and ordered some coffee.

‘You want something to eat?' he asked, before hanging up.

‘See if they can send some pastries with it.'

He told them to send whatever they had in the way of pastries or donuts, then hung up and rejoined me in front of the TV.

‘This is unreal,' he said.

‘Yeah.'

We were still standing there when a bellman carrying a tray appeared at the door.

‘Mr Entratter?'

‘Just put it on the desk.'

The young man did so, then looked at the TV.

‘Anything new?' he asked.

‘No,' Jack told him, ‘they still don't know his condition. Or they're not sayin'.'