Read Online I'm a Fool to Kill You by Robert Randisi - Free Book Online Page A

hand away. She was, after all, Frank’s ex, and I was there representing him.
    She drew on the cigarette again and said, ‘I decided to leave Spain for a while, travel . . . Actually, that’s not true. I was approached to be in a film that Blake Edwards is shooting in Rome called The Pink Panther. The Producer, Martin Jurow, came to see me. He found me in Madrid and practically begged me to be in it. It should have been flattering, but instead it went to my head. I was . . . horrible to them, demanded that they move the shoot from Rome to Madrid to accommodate me. Finally, Jurow slipped a note underneath my door.’
    â€˜Uninviting you?’ I asked.
    She nodded.
    â€˜I can’t blame them, really,’ she said. ‘Since then I have been all over Europe, to New York, here in L.A. and then . . . nothing.’
    â€˜What do you mean, nothing?’
    â€˜I mean, I can’t remember. I . . . blacked out. And I woke up in a hotel room in Chicago.’
    â€˜What hotel?’
    â€˜The Drake, I think.’
    â€˜And what else?’
    â€˜I had . . . blood on my hands.’
    â€˜Blood? Are you sure?’
    â€˜Yes,’ she said.
    â€˜What did you do?’
    â€˜I washed it off. I checked my clothes. There was blood there, too.’
    â€˜Where are those clothes?’
    â€˜I . . . packed them for some reason, but when I got here I threw them in the back of the closet in the bedroom.’
    â€˜Wait here.’
    I went into the bedroom to the closet. In the back, on the floor, in a crumpled mess I found a blouse and a bra, both stained with what looked like blood. But there was also a silk nightie with blood on it, as well. And the towel she must have used to dry her hands was stained red. I wrapped the blouse, bra and nightie in the towel and left them there, then went back to her.
    â€˜Was I dreaming that too?’ she asked.
    â€˜No,’ I said. ‘There’s blood on them all right.’
    â€˜Oh God . . .’
    I crouched down in front of her and took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look me in the eyes.
    â€˜Come on, Ava. Think. What happened?’
    â€˜I . . . don’t know. I have been thinking for the past three days. I can’t recall.’
    â€˜All right,’ I said, ‘tell me this. How much time did you lose in this blackout?’
    â€˜I . . . I figured it was about forty hours.’
    Eight hours shy of two days. A lot of damage could be done in that much time.
    I was about to ask another question when there was a knock at the door.
    â€˜Eddie!’ She became very frightened.
    â€˜Go into the bedroom,’ I told her. ‘Stay there. It might just be a bell boy coming for the dishes, but don’t come out. You’ll be able to hear what’s being said.’
    â€˜All right.’
    She hurried into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar.

EIGHTEEN
    I opened the door, half expecting and fully hoping it would be Randy, the bell boy. It wasn’t. It was two guys in suits with ‘cop’ written across their foreheads.
    â€˜Are you Eddie Gianelli?’ one of them asked.
    â€˜Who’s askin’?’
    They both showed me their nice shiny detective badges.
    â€˜L.A.P.D.,’ one of them said. ‘Detectives Reasoner and Crider.’
    â€˜Which is which?’ I asked.
    â€˜I’m Reasoner,’ the spokesman said. He was a little shorter and broader than his partner, but they were both about the same age, mid-forties. My guess was they had been partners for a long time. ‘Would you mind coming with us?’
    â€˜What’s this about?’ I asked.
    â€˜A cab driver named Larry Carver,’ Crider said. ‘Although, it seems somebody might have thought he was you.’
    â€˜I see. Couldn’t I come down to headquarters in the morning and make a statement?’
    â€˜I’m afraid