I'm a Fool to Kill You (7 page)

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 hospital 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

T
he 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 she 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.'

‘Uninviting you?' I asked.

She nodded.

‘I can't blame them, really,' she said. ‘Since then I have been all over Europe, to New York, here in L.A. and then . . . nothing.'

‘What do you mean, nothing?'

‘I mean, I can't remember. I . . . blacked out. And I woke up in a hotel room in Chicago.'

‘What hotel?'

‘The Drake, I think.'

‘And what else?'

‘I had . . . blood on my hands.'

‘Blood? Are you sure?'

‘Yes,' she said.

‘What did you do?'

‘I washed it off. I checked my clothes. There was blood there, too.'

‘Where are those clothes?'

‘I . . . packed them for some reason, but when I got here I threw them in the back of the closet in the bedroom.'

‘Wait here.'

I went into the bedroom to the closet. In the back, on the floor, in a crumpled mess I found a blouse and a bra, both stained with what looked like blood. But there was also a silk nightie with blood on it, as well. And the towel she must have used to dry her hands was stained red. I wrapped the blouse, bra and nightie in the towel and left them there, then went back to her.

‘Was I dreaming that too?' she asked.

‘No,' I said. ‘There's blood on them all right.'

‘Oh God . . .'

I crouched down in front of her and took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look me in the eyes.

‘Come on, Ava. Think. What happened?'

‘I . . . don't know. I have been thinking for the past three days. I can't recall.'

‘All right,' I said, ‘tell me this. How much time did you lose in this blackout?'

‘I . . . I figured it was about forty hours.'

Eight hours shy of two days. A lot of damage could be done in that much time.

I was about to ask another question when there was a knock at the door.

‘Eddie!' She became very frightened.

‘Go into the bedroom,' I told her. ‘Stay there. It might just be a bell boy coming for the dishes, but don't come out. You'll be able to hear what's being said.'

‘All right.'

She hurried into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar.

EIGHTEEN

I
opened the door, half expecting and fully hoping it would be Randy, the bell boy. It wasn't. It was two guys in suits with ‘cop' written across their foreheads.

‘Are you Eddie Gianelli?' one of them asked.

‘Who's askin'?'