Fly Me to the Morgue

I stayed in a room at the Sands that night, after grabbing a change of clothes I kept in a locker. When I woke up there was a firm rump pressed into my crotch, which was not an objectionable way to start the day.

When Didi turned into me I got a glimpse of her pubic hair, as fiery red as the hair on her head. She also had the green eyes and pale, freckled skin of a real redhead.

‘Bright and early,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to shower and change, then go home before I come back and start. Also got some phone calls to make. So . . .’ I slapped her on her bare ass.

‘You tellin’ me to get up and out?’ she asked.

I rubbed her butt where I’d smacked it, then ran a finger up and down the crease between her cheeks.

Eventually we both got up and out. She also had to go home, shower and change, run some errands and then come back for a shift. I told her I’d see her later in the lounge.

Before she left she put her hand against my chest and said, ‘Don’t worry, Eddie. This doesn’t mean we’re goin’ steady, or anythin’.’

I kissed her on the tip of her nose and said, ‘I’ll try to console myself.’

I put on chinos and a t-shirt, tossed my suit into the back seat of my car, then drove toward my little house. I stopped first to get some take-out breakfast from a diner down the street – bacon and egg on a bagel, and coffee.

I hung the suit up in the closet, figuring I’d get it cleaned before I wore it again. After that I ate my breakfast, took a shower and dressed, again. This time trousers and a polo shirt. I’d be changing still again before I went to work later.

I called my buddy, Ted Silver, at McCarran Airport and gave him Fred Stanley’s name. He said he’d check flights for me.

‘Hey Mr G.,’ he said. ‘You caught me havin’ a second cup of coffee. What’s up?’

‘How’d you like an all expense paid trip to Vegas, Jerry?’ I asked.

‘What’s the beef?’ he asked. ‘You got trouble?’

‘Not me,’ I said. ‘Somebody else asked for you.’

‘He was impressed with the way you handled yourself last year at Del Mar. He wants you to go with him and help him buy a horse.’

‘His trainer didn’t show up. He doesn’t want the trip to go to waste. Says he can fly you here today and cover all your expenses.’

‘Nothin’ important,’ he said. ‘Hell, Bing Crosby, huh?’

‘Hell, come on out, man,’ I said. ‘Help the guy buy a horse and then we’ll do the town.’

‘I’ll get Bing to make the arrangements, then call you and let you know where to go.’

I hung up and called Bing right away. He said he’d arrange for a plane to pick Jerry up at Idlewild Airport, which had actually been changed to New York International Airport, Anderson Field in 1948, but most people in New York still called it Idlewild.

I called Jerry back with the info and he had just enough time to get out of his place. Apparently, Bing had assumed he’d say yes, and the plane was standing by.

I hung up, all the plans made. Now all I had to do was wait for Jerry to arrive, then let him accompany Bing to Red Rock Canyon.

I was about to leave my house to run some normal errands – laundry and groceries – when the phone rang.

‘Your man was booked on an early flight yesterday from San Diego.’

‘Well then,’ I said, ‘he disappeared somewhere between the airport and the Sands.’

‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘I’ve got somebody better. Thanks, Ted.’

I immediately dialed a number and waited two rings.

‘Sorry, honey,’ I said. ‘I’m just in kind of a hurry.’

She did, and we arranged to meet near his office, in the coffee shop in Binion’s Horseshoe. I’d learned from Jerry that there was always room for another breakfast.