Fly Me to the Morgue by Robert J. Randisi Page B

try.’

TWENTY-SEVEN
    Hargrove stopped at our booth, another man behind him. He was younger, looked uncomfortable in his suit, like he hadn’t been out of uniform for very long.
    â€˜Eddie,’ he said. ‘Looks like your Gunsel is in for another visit.’
    â€˜You’re gettin’ older, Hargrove,’ I said. ‘Or are your partners gettin’ younger?’
    â€˜Probably a little bit of both,’ he said. ‘You mind if I sit down?’
    â€˜Sure, why not?’ I asked. ‘Have a cup of coffee. Want me to slide over?’
    â€˜No.’ He grabbed a chair from another table. ‘This is good.’
    His partner just sat at a chair at the table behind us. He knew his place, already.
    â€˜Keep eatin’, fellas,’ Hargrove said. ‘I don’t want to ruin your breakfast.’
    â€˜Thanks.’
    â€˜Where’s your other buddy? Bardini?’
    â€˜He doesn’t check in with me every day.’
    â€˜No, huh? Off on a case maybe? Already?’
    I shrugged.
    â€˜I talked to a colleague of mine yesterday,’ Hargrove said. ‘Freeman. Know him?’
    â€˜I know Freeman.’
    â€˜Seems you and the Gunsel, here, got yourselves involved in another murder.’
    â€˜We’re not involved,’ I said.
    â€˜Your buddy Bardini is.’
    â€˜He just found the body, that’s all,’ I said. ‘He was lookin’ for a missin’ person, and he found him dead.’
    â€˜He was workin’ for you, though.’
    â€˜Not me,’ I said. ‘Bing Crosby.’
    â€˜Yeah,’ Hargrove said, ‘another one of your Hollywood bigwig buddies. But in the end he was working for you.’
    I looked at him.
    â€˜It’s not gonna do me any good to keep sayin’ no, right?’
    â€˜Right.’
    â€˜So what do you want, Hargrove?’ I asked. ‘This isn’t your case.’
    â€˜I’m helping my friend Freeman,’ he said, ‘since I know some of the principals involved.’
    â€˜That’s us, right?’ Jerry asked.
    â€˜Smart boy.’
    There was an empty cup on the table. Hargrove poured himself a cup of coffee.
    â€˜Heard you fellas found a body out in Red Rock Canyon, too,’ he said.
    â€˜Now I know that’s not your case,’ I said. ‘Still helpin’ some friends?’
    â€˜Naw, I don’t know those Sheriff’s men,’ Hargrove said, sipping his coffee. ‘I just find it interesting how you guys always stumble across bodies when you’re together.’
    â€˜Not always,’ I said.
    â€˜Enough.’
    I ate the last of my pancakes, pushed the plate away.
    â€˜What’s this about, Hargrove?’ I asked.
    â€˜I’m just curious, Eddie,’ he said. ‘I was going to ask you the same question.’
    â€˜All I know is what I told the Sheriff’s boys, and what I told your boys. Bing Crosby needed some help, we tried to give it to him.’
    â€˜Then why the Gunsel?’ Hargrove asked.
    I saw a muscle jump in Jerry’s jaw, but he covered it with a mouthful of pancakes.
    â€˜Actually, Bing met Jerry at Del Mar last year and was impressed with his knowledge of horses. When his trainer didn’t show up he asked me if Jerry would take a look at the horse for him. Jerry agreed, and Bing flew him out.’
    â€˜He’s coverin’ my expenses,’ Jerry said. Then he did something I’d never seen him do before. He smiled at Detective Hargrove. ‘He put me in a suite.’
    â€˜Nice,’ Hargrove said. ‘A free flight, free suite, and free pancakes, huh?’
    â€˜You got it,’ Jerry said.
    â€˜Pretty good deal,’ Hargrove said, then looked at me and asked, ‘but are we sure Crosby didn’t bring Jerry in to off the horse owner?’
    â€˜Oh yeah,’ I said, ‘Bing made an appointment to meet the guy. Then we showed up and clubbed him to death