Free You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Kills You by Robert J. Randisi

hear and see everything.”
    “You didn’t hear or see me come in.”
    He showed me a wolfish, yellow-toothed grin. “Yeah, I did.”
    “Okay,” I said, “okay.”
    “If he came in late or early, then I wouldn’t’ve been here. You’d have to talk to whoever was on nights.”
    “And who would that be?”
    “Mmm, that’d be … Harry two nights, and … oh, yeah, Hilary the other two.” From the guy’s tone of voice Hilary was apparently a babe.
    “What time do they come on?”
    “Whoever it is tonight would be comin’ on at eleven tonight. Leaves at 7:00 A.M. You’ll catch ‘em any time between there.”
    “Okay, thanks.”
    “Don’t let ‘em hit ya for more than a sawbuck. It ain’t worth more.”
    “Oh, yeah, thanks.”
    I started out, stopped at the door and turned back.
    “Where would I go to talk to the police who handle this area?”
    “That’d be the West Los Angeles Station. You want directions?”
    “How much will it cost me?”
    He made a face and said, “Up to you. I trust ya to do the right thing.”
    He wrote the directions down for me.
    I gave him a fin.

Twenty
    M ARILYN’S NEW HOUSE WAS in Brentwood, which was very high-end. We got off 405 at Wilshire Boulevard, which became West San Vicente Boulevard, and took that to South Carmelina Avenue. That took us to Marilyn’s street, 12305 Fifth Helena Drive. When we got there Jerry parked in front and turned off the engine.
    “Now what?” he asked. “We go in?”
    “We should’ve called first,” I said. “We’re liable to scare her.”
    “If she’s even there,” he said. “Maybe she’s makin’ a movie.”
    “Let me go in alone, first,” I said.
    “Aw, Mr. G….”
    “I just don’t want to scare her, Jerry,” I said. “Once I’m in and see that she’s fine, I’ll call you in.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes,” I said, getting out of the car, “I promise.”
    All the streets running off of Carmelina were known as the “Numbered Helenas.” They were all dead ends. Marilyn’s house was a Spanish hacienda-style with a red-tiled roof, white stuccowalls, and casement windows. There was also a pool, and small guesthouse. The gate, given Marilyn’s state of mind, was oddly open. I walked up the drive to the house, which looked kind of small by Hollywood standards.
    I approached the big arched doorway, and rang the bell. There was a small window in the door, only good for peering out. I saw blond hair, then a blurry face. I thought the dense glass had made the face blurry until she opened the door a crack. Okay, her face wasn’t blurry, but her eyes were.
    “Eddie?”
    “Yes, it’s me, Marilyn. Eddie.”
    She swung the door open and threw herself into my arms. My arms were filled with lush, soft female and my body reacted. I was embarrassed—which was new for me. I didn’t want her to think that all I wanted was what every other man wanted. I pushed her away, held her by her shoulders, and made like I was looking her over. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, no shoes.
    “Are you all right?” I asked.
    “I—yes,” she said, touching her hair, “I suppose so.” She had no lipstick on, and I was so used to seeing those bloodred lips that they looked paler than pale. The bottom one also looked as if she had been biting it.
    “Come in, Eddie, come in.” She grabbed my wrists and started to pull me in.
    “Marilyn, somebody’s with me. Can I bring him in?”
    “W-who is it?”
    “It’s a friend of mine—a big guy named Jerry. He’s sort of like a bodyguard.”
    “For me?” Her eyes went wide.
    “Well, actually for me. Look, he’s harmless, nice … and he’s a real fan.”
    “Eddie … I look awful.”
    “You look great.”
    And she did. Even pale and trembling she oozed sex. She couldn’t help it.
    “You bring him in,” she said. “I’m gonna touch up.”
    “Marilyn—” But she ran inside.
    I went back down the walk and waved to Eddie, signaling him to bring the car up the drive. When