would make her less fearful. I knew Danny could take care of himself, but he usually checked inwith Penny when he was away. If anything had happened to him it would be my fault—only what could have happened? All he did was follow Marilyn home.
Unless … unless Marilyn was being followed, as she suspected, and Danny had run into whoever it was.
Fifteen
J ERRY CAME BACK a couple of hours later during a commercial for Chunky Chocolate Bars. I turned off the TV and told him about the phone call. I had to talk to somebody about it, and anyway, it was better than trying to make inane conversation in order to avoid talking about the funeral.
Jerry listened, nodding the whole time, not interrupting.
“She was gonna call a PI from L.A. to check it out?” he asked, when I was done.
“Yeah, that’s what she was thinking. But I’m thinking I’ll find him.”
“Then we will, Mr. G.,” Jerry said. “We’ll find him.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, “but Danny … he’s …”
“I know,” Jerry said. “He’s your friend. You can worry, if ya want, but ya ain’t gonna know nothin’ for sure—at least, not until tomorrow.”
“With all the craziness in my family, Jerry, Danny’s like … the last family I have.”
“I know, Mr. G. I know.”
“But you’re right,” I said. “There’s nothing I can do now.”
“What about the funeral, Mr. G.?”
“Why do you keep askin’ me about it, Jerry?”
“Because I think you’re thinkin’ about not goin’.”
“So?”
“So you flew all this way. Yer gonna kick yourself if ya don’t go.”
He was right. I was thinking about not going at all, especially after the call about Danny. My return ticket was for Friday, I could change it to Thursday with no problem. But I could change it and still make my mother’s funeral.
“Listen, Mr. G.,” Jerry said, “I don’t like flyin’, but I do it a lot. Like when I fly out to Vegas when you call me. So I got a travel agent takes care of all that for me an’ I don’t gotta bother. I could call ‘im and—”
“Okay, go ahead,” I said. “Call him.”
“Whataya wanna do?”
“My mother’s funeral is tomorrow mornin’,” I said. “Change my flight to tomorrow afternoon. I’ll head back right after the funeral.”
“That’s good, Mr. G. Gimme your ticket.”
I got my ticket out of my jacket pocket and handed it over. He dialed the phone, then waited for it to be picked up.
“This is a good idea, Mr. G. Believe me, if ya didn’t go—hey, Artie? Jerry Epstein. I need a favor …”
As always, since I’d met him, Jerry proved he wasn’t as dumb as he liked people to think he was.
After he hung up he handed back my ticket.
“He’s makin’ the change. You can show that at the ticket desk and they’ll give ya a new one.”
“Thanks, Jerry.”
“I can drive ya to the funeral tomorrow, Mr. G., and then take ya right to La Guardia. Or …”
“Or what?”
He looked at the clock.
“I could drive ya over there tonight,” he said.
“Tonight?”
“I’ll even go in with ya,” he said. “How’s that?”
At first it sounded like my idea of hell, but then I thought about the look on my sister’s face when I walked in with Jerry.
“You know what?” I said. “Let’s do it. Maybe you don’t play host very often, but you make a damn good one.”
“Hey, I learned from you, Mr. G.,” he said with a smile. “You always show me a good time when I come to Vegas.”
Yeah, I thought, but at least I never had to kill anybody.
Sixteen
I WAS THE CENTER of attention as soon as I entered LaPolla’s Funeral Home on Rockaway Parkway in Canarsie. Of course, it helped that Jerry came in with me, wearing a houndstooth jacket, which he said was the closest thing he had to black.
Cousins shook my hand and asked how the hell I was.
My brother and brother-i n-law stayed on the other side of the room, glowering.
My sister had a tissue to her face, looked like she had just
Unless … unless Marilyn was being followed, as she suspected, and Danny had run into whoever it was.
Fifteen
J ERRY CAME BACK a couple of hours later during a commercial for Chunky Chocolate Bars. I turned off the TV and told him about the phone call. I had to talk to somebody about it, and anyway, it was better than trying to make inane conversation in order to avoid talking about the funeral.
Jerry listened, nodding the whole time, not interrupting.
“She was gonna call a PI from L.A. to check it out?” he asked, when I was done.
“Yeah, that’s what she was thinking. But I’m thinking I’ll find him.”
“Then we will, Mr. G.,” Jerry said. “We’ll find him.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, “but Danny … he’s …”
“I know,” Jerry said. “He’s your friend. You can worry, if ya want, but ya ain’t gonna know nothin’ for sure—at least, not until tomorrow.”
“With all the craziness in my family, Jerry, Danny’s like … the last family I have.”
“I know, Mr. G. I know.”
“But you’re right,” I said. “There’s nothing I can do now.”
“What about the funeral, Mr. G.?”
“Why do you keep askin’ me about it, Jerry?”
“Because I think you’re thinkin’ about not goin’.”
“So?”
“So you flew all this way. Yer gonna kick yourself if ya don’t go.”
He was right. I was thinking about not going at all, especially after the call about Danny. My return ticket was for Friday, I could change it to Thursday with no problem. But I could change it and still make my mother’s funeral.
“Listen, Mr. G.,” Jerry said, “I don’t like flyin’, but I do it a lot. Like when I fly out to Vegas when you call me. So I got a travel agent takes care of all that for me an’ I don’t gotta bother. I could call ‘im and—”
“Okay, go ahead,” I said. “Call him.”
“Whataya wanna do?”
“My mother’s funeral is tomorrow mornin’,” I said. “Change my flight to tomorrow afternoon. I’ll head back right after the funeral.”
“That’s good, Mr. G. Gimme your ticket.”
I got my ticket out of my jacket pocket and handed it over. He dialed the phone, then waited for it to be picked up.
“This is a good idea, Mr. G. Believe me, if ya didn’t go—hey, Artie? Jerry Epstein. I need a favor …”
As always, since I’d met him, Jerry proved he wasn’t as dumb as he liked people to think he was.
After he hung up he handed back my ticket.
“He’s makin’ the change. You can show that at the ticket desk and they’ll give ya a new one.”
“Thanks, Jerry.”
“I can drive ya to the funeral tomorrow, Mr. G., and then take ya right to La Guardia. Or …”
“Or what?”
He looked at the clock.
“I could drive ya over there tonight,” he said.
“Tonight?”
“I’ll even go in with ya,” he said. “How’s that?”
At first it sounded like my idea of hell, but then I thought about the look on my sister’s face when I walked in with Jerry.
“You know what?” I said. “Let’s do it. Maybe you don’t play host very often, but you make a damn good one.”
“Hey, I learned from you, Mr. G.,” he said with a smile. “You always show me a good time when I come to Vegas.”
Yeah, I thought, but at least I never had to kill anybody.
Sixteen
I WAS THE CENTER of attention as soon as I entered LaPolla’s Funeral Home on Rockaway Parkway in Canarsie. Of course, it helped that Jerry came in with me, wearing a houndstooth jacket, which he said was the closest thing he had to black.
Cousins shook my hand and asked how the hell I was.
My brother and brother-i n-law stayed on the other side of the room, glowering.
My sister had a tissue to her face, looked like she had just
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