'For God's sake,' Anthony said, 'Julius is here.'
'With you?' I said.
'In the hotel. He called me on the house phone, but I wouldn't tell him where my room was.'
'What was his posture?' I said.
'What?'
'How was he acting?'
'He said he was going to kill me.'
'Oh,' I said.
'That posture.'
'So get Hawk and get your asses up here,' Anthony said.
I indulged a cruel streak.
'Did you know Marty Anaheim was in town too?' I said.
'Marty?'
'Yeah. He's staying down the Strip.'
'Oh my God,' Anthony said.
His voice was very small. I heard the murmur of another voice in the background and Anthony's voice, muffled, as if his hand were over the mouthpiece, saying Marty's here, and a louder murmur and Anthony's voice saying, 'For cris sake Bibi,' then his voice on the phone again.
'You and Hawk said you'd protect me,' he said.
'You gotta come up right now.'
'Stay in your room,' I said.
'We'll be along.'
When we got there Anthony was drinking scotch out of a short fat glass. His coat was off, his dark blue linen shirt was unbuttoned nearly to the waist. The cuffs too were unbuttoned. Bibi sat on the couch, hugging her knees, her back wedged into the angle of the arm. Her feet were bare. She had on designer jeans and a white sleeveless top.
'So tell me about Julius,' I said.
'Fuck Julius,' Anthony said.
'Where's Marty Anaheim?'
'MGM Grand,' I said.
'How do you know?'
'I saw him,' Hawk said.
'You know he's staying there?'
'Seems likely,' Hawk said.
'He coming out of the guest elevators when I spotted him.'
'Maybe he was just visiting somebody?'
'Maybe,' Hawk said.
'What difference does it make?' I said.
'He's staying someplace. He's here in Vegas.'
'Yeah, yeah. Of course. Right. What difference does it make.
You haven't seen him here, in this place?'
Hawk shook his head.
'Step at a time,' I said.
'Far as we know, Marty doesn't know where you're staying. Julius does. Tell me about Julius.'
'You think Marty's here looking for me, though.'
'Center of attention,' I said.
'Tell me about Julius.'
'Oh God,' Anthony said.
He finished his scotch, went to the ice bucket on the table, put a handful of ice in his glass, and poured more scotch over it. Bibi continued to watch us, peeking over her clenched knees. Hawk leaned on the wall near the door. I waited, standing in front of Bibi. While I waited I patted her knee. My father used to do that, give me a pat once in a while, without comment. Anthony drank some more scotch.
'Julius blames me for Shirley's death,' Anthony said.
