female at a time.”
She said nothing. The breeze rustling the lush firs and the gleaming blue-burning-orange lake provided a languid ambiance. Otherworldly. Time had stopped. But problems marched on.
“Why am I here, Marilyn?”
“That’s not the question.”
“What is?”
“Why am I here?” Her smile crinkled. “Can you tell me? Is it to celebrate working with Frankie?”
“Probably not.”
“Right. What then?”
I sighed heavily. “I think at some point, this weekend, in and around the fun and the frolic? They’re going to sit you down for a good talking-to.”
“So do I,” she said. Her eyes were on the lake again, which had gone bloodred.
“Have you been staying away from Bobby?”
“… I’ve made a few calls.”
“Where to?”
“You know… the Justice Department. Once to Hickory Hills.”
“Hickory Hills? His home?”
She shrugged. “Just once. I got Ethel. I didn’t say anything to upset any apple carts.”
“Well, that was wise. You and Pat Lawford, you seem friendly…”
“We are friends.”
“She’ll probably carry the ball, if they corner you. I won’t likely be invited to this little family talk.”
“No. But you’ll be here. Here, if they get… I don’t know. Rough with me.”
“I don’t think they’re going to work you over. Not with billy clubs or anything.”
She sipped champagne. “No. Just words. But if I need somebody to be on my side? That’s where you come in. Somebody who can take me home, if I decide I’ve had enough.”
“Marilyn, I don’t even have a car up here.”
“No. But you’re my big bad private eye. I bet you brought your gun.”
I had.
“Maybe,” I said. I gave her a serious smile. “You won with the studio, honey. Embrace that. Don’t you know you can’t win this one?”
She shrugged again.
“You don’t really still want to be First Lady…?”
She frowned. “I wouldn’t marry Bobby, or Jack, if they were the last Democrats on earth.”
So when the right Democrat came along, she might still be First Lady…
I asked, “Then what do you want?”
Her eyes were surprisingly hard behind the gray sunglass lenses. “Not to be taken for granted. Not to be abused. Not to be taken for some dumb-”
“Redhead?”
She flicked me a smile, then nodded. “I might not win. I don’t think there’s a way to win… but I will be respected. They will know I was here.”
“I think they already know that.”
“Not really. Not down deep.” She got up suddenly, like toast popping from a toaster. “Now, shoo. I do need a little time… Even putting on a modified Marilyn takes some effort.”
She looked great at dinner-a hairstylist named Sebring had helped her out, and she proved capable of doing her own makeup to perfection. She’d even been right on time when I picked her up to walk her over. The showroom was Vegas modern in orange, beige, and brown (Sinatra’s favorite colors), and the seven-hundred-seater was packed.
We were ringside, and Marilyn-wearing a clingy black gown that showed off her current, more streamlined figure-drank a little too much champagne but was fun, laughing company. At our small table, tuxedo-sporting Lawford was on my one side and Marilyn on the other, next to Pat, who wore a lovely but simple blue gown. I had on a white dinner jacket and black tie. When comic Pat Henry came on to open, Lawford put a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Could we speak?”
We left the showroom and found a corner of the lobby.
He stood close enough for me to smell his lime-scented cologne. It was almost enough to put me off gimlets.
“How does Marilyn seem?” he asked.
“She seems fine.”
“Have you seen her take any pills?”
“No. She’s off the pills.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, I’m not rooming with her. She’s hitting the bubbly pretty good tonight, but isn’t it a celebration?”
“Not entirely. Listen, old chum, are you aware of what she’s been doing?”
“You mean taking Twentieth Century-Fox to the woodshed?”
“Not that-she’s been calling Bobby, or trying to.”
“I heard something along those lines.”
He sighed; he was a handsome devil, but looked closer to my age than his own. “She’s phoned the Justice Department switchboard perhaps a dozen times, screaming at them when they won’t put her through. Then somehow she wormed Bobby’s home number out of Jerry Wald-he’s producing the Enemy Within picture, you know-and got Ethel on the line, and, well, Bobby is just furious.”
“Want to know what I think?”
“What?”
“Bobby needs to deal with this directly. He needs to speak to Marilyn, probably in person, and treat her respectfully. Essentially apologize for his bad behavior, and Jack’s.”
“Are you mad?”
“Don’t knock it, it got me out of the Marines. But if what you’re planning is to sit her down this weekend, so you and Pat can do Bobby’s dirty work, well… how did that turn out for you with Frank?”
His expression turned defensive. “I’m here, ” Lawford said. “And Frank and I are like this again.” He held up forefinger and middle finger entwined.
I did the old gag: “I bet I can guess which one is you. Is this the first time you’ve spoken since the Palm Springs fiasco?”
“Maybe it is.”
“No maybe about it. You and Frank and the Kennedy boys all know how lousy this will look if Marilyn goes public.”
His eyes and nostrils flared. “You’re telling me! She’s talking to Sidney bloody Skolsky about this, and just about every other columnist-they’re being gentlemen about it, even the ladies, but what if she holds this press conference she’s threatening? What then?”
“She’s not a baby. She’s not stupid. She’s not a bimbo, either, even if Jack and Bobby treat her like one. She’s a genius, in her way, and a very important person.”
“I know… I know…”
“They’re users, Peter. They’ve used me. And they’ve used you. But I’m just a two-bit private eye who lived long enough to get respectable. And you aren’t exactly Brando or Olivier, are you? So they can get away with using us. But you don’t use Marilyn Monroe and toss her aside like she’s Jayne Mansfield.”
He looked alarmed. “How did you know that?”
“What?”
“That Jack and Bobby had Jayne Mansfield, too?”
What could I say to that?
I just held up my hands in surrender and went back in to hear Sinatra sing.
And it was a great show-a fantastic big band playing so hard and loud, it enveloped you, with that living legend teasing, delighting, seducing, and beguiling an audience that was the real instrument he played, those
