You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Kills You Read Online Free PDF Page A

no other choice but to walk away—or run.
    “‘Nother one?” the bartender asked.
    “No, thanks.”
    I decided to go home for the rest of the day. I left a message for Dean that he and the guys should pick me up there.
    I pulled into the driveway of my little house, turned off the Caddy and sat. I’d been living in that house since I became a pit boss at the Sands. When Jack Entratter bumped me up to the pit this was my only celebration of the promotion and raise. But it had never felt like home to me. The only place that felt like home was the Sands. Some people might think that was sad, but except for a few nights when I really needed to get away from the constant pulse of the strip, that casino was it. Lord knows the house I grew up in never felt like home.
    I made a pot of coffee and a sandwich, and had them sitting at the kitchen table. I’d left both the Sands number and my home number with Teddy, but I knew he was right. With the number of people who would have been watching Marilyn in both airports, it’d be hard to tell if somebody was following her.
    I doubted that Danny was even in Tahoe yet, so when the phone rang I almost didn’t answer it, thinking it might be someone from Brooklyn. But in spite of myself, I walked to the counter and picked up the receiver.
    “Eddie?”
    The voice was low, tremulous but I recognized it right away.
    “Marilyn?”
    “I’m sorry to call you like this.”
    “No, no, it’s okay,” I said. I went back to the kitchen table and sat down, not knowing I’d be sitting there for a couple of hours.
    The reason for the call didn’t seem to be anything specific. She didn’t ask if I’d found out anything, didn’t refer to anything we’d talked about in cottage number three earlier that day. Sheseemed to need to talk, so we pretty much just shot the breeze for two hours. Now, if you’d told me the day before that I’d be shooting the breeze on the phone with Marilyn Monroe the next day I never would have believed it.
    After two hours we both started to run down. Her words actually began to slur.
    “I don’t know why I don’t have any real friends,” she said. “I don’t know why everybody thinks I’m hard to work with—”
    “Marilyn, honey—”
    “—but it’s the other thing that really bothers me.”
    “What other thing?”
    “The Clark Gable thing.”
    “You mean … the one about you bein’ responsible for his death?”
    “Yes.”
    “Marilyn, I thought we talked about that—”
    “We did,” she said, “but … it’s still hard, having people say such horrible things. I guess I’m too sensitive.”
    “Marilyn, have you heard anyone gossiping about you and Clark Gable maybe having … an affair?”
    “Eddie, no!” she said, adamant and breathy at the same time. “Clark loved his wife. He never did anything—”
    “I’m not sayin’ he did,” I said. “I was just wonderin’ … wouldn’t that have bothered you more than … the other thing?”
    “Oh Eddie,” she said, “I’ve been gossiped about with so many men. Always accused of having sex with them. I’m used to it. But I’ve never been accused of causing someone’s death.”
    “Marilyn, you did not cause Gable’s death.”
    “But some people might think I did,” she said. “Everyone loved Clark.”
    I heard something through the phone—maybe the sound of ice in a glass?
    “Marilyn, are you drinkin’?”
    “Just a little something to calm my nerves.”
    I didn’t know if she had a serious drinking problem. I didn’t rely on rumors and gossip for the truth, but her addictions had been front-page news for years.
    “Well, don’t have any more,” I suggested. “You’re not takin’ anything else, are you?”
    She laughed. “Oh, Eddie, do you think I’d mix booze and pills? That’s dangerous.”
    “Marilyn, I just don’t want you to do anything … silly.”
    “Well then,” she said, “why don’t you come over here and make sure I’m being a good