Fly Me to the Morgue

‘Eddie,’ he said. ‘Looks like your Gunsel is in for another visit.’

‘You’re gettin’ older, Hargrove,’ I said. ‘Or are your partners gettin’ younger?’

‘Probably a little bit of both,’ he said. ‘You mind if I sit down?’

‘Sure, why not?’ I asked. ‘Have a cup of coffee. Want me to slide over?’

‘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.

‘Keep eatin’, fellas,’ Hargrove said. ‘I don’t want to ruin your breakfast.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Where’s your other buddy? Bardini?’

‘He doesn’t check in with me every day.’

‘No, huh? Off on a case maybe? Already?’

I shrugged.

‘I talked to a colleague of mine yesterday,’ Hargrove said. ‘Freeman. Know him?’

‘I know Freeman.’

‘Seems you and the Gunsel, here, got yourselves involved in another murder.’

‘We’re not involved,’ I said.

‘Your buddy Bardini is.’

‘He just found the body, that’s all,’ I said. ‘He was lookin’ for a missin’ person, and he found him dead.’

‘He was workin’ for you, though.’

‘Not me,’ I said. ‘Bing Crosby.’

‘Yeah,’ Hargrove said, ‘another one of your Hollywood bigwig buddies. But in the end he was working for you.’

I looked at him.

‘It’s not gonna do me any good to keep sayin’ no, right?’

‘Right.’

‘So what do you want, Hargrove?’ I asked. ‘This isn’t your case.’

‘I’m helping my friend Freeman,’ he said, ‘since I know some of the principals involved.’

‘That’s us, right?’ Jerry asked.

‘Smart boy.’

There was an empty cup on the table. Hargrove poured himself a cup of coffee.

‘Heard you fellas found a body out in Red Rock Canyon, too,’ he said.

‘Now I know that’s not your case,’ I said. ‘Still helpin’ some friends?’

‘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.’

‘Not always,’ I said.

‘Enough.’

I ate the last of my pancakes, pushed the plate away.

‘What’s this about, Hargrove?’ I asked.

‘I’m just curious, Eddie,’ he said. ‘I was going to ask you the same question.’

‘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.’

‘Then why the Gunsel?’ Hargrove asked.

I saw a muscle jump in Jerry’s jaw, but he covered it with a mouthful of pancakes.

‘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.’

‘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.’

‘Nice,’ Hargrove said. ‘A free flight, free suite, and free pancakes, huh?’

‘You got it,’ Jerry said.

‘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?’

‘Oh yeah,’ I said, ‘Bing made an appointment to meet the guy. Then we showed up and clubbed him to death before they could make a deal for the horse. And then we called the cops. Tell me something, Detective? What does Bing Crosby gain from that?’

‘Gee, I don’t know, Eddie,’ Hargrove said, ‘but maybe I’ll poke around and see what I can find out.’ He put his cup down. ‘Thanks for the coffee. I’ll be seeing both of you guys . . . soon.’

‘Hargrove,’ I said, before he could leave, ‘I really like this new quiet, understated technique of yours. Maybe your new partner is rubbing off on you.’

Hargrove just smiled, tossed us a salute and then led his partner out of the coffee shop.

‘What the hell . . .’ I said.

‘I don’t like that,’ Jerry said. ‘He was way too calm. Usually he’s yellin’ at us.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘Something’s up. We better talk to Bing.’

‘After breakfast?’ Jerry asked hopefully, looking at the rest of his pancakes.

‘Of course, after breakfast,’ I said.