Pardon me, boy, is that the Chattanooga Choo-Choo…” Sol never could sing worth a damn. The last thing I heard as I went out the door was Sol shouting out in a deep baritone voice, “One more time, Tex. I nodded and under my breath added, “Thank God.” But what would it hurt to hang with him for an hour? I had nothing to do but go home to an empty apartment.įorty-five minutes later, after the piano player had run though “Chattanooga Choo-Choo” one too many times, I left Rocco’s and headed home. “It’s not every day you get to hear Tex Beneke’s brother,” he said.
He wanted to listen to the entertainer a while before heading home. It was personal.Īfter Rita left, Sol and I moseyed into the bar. It wasn’t just about setting the record straight that drove me now. With the loan from Sol, Rita could continue with the Roberts case. I didn’t mention my conversation with Mabel, the one where I agreed to pull Rita off the case and have her spend time searching for new clients. It would have Strickling’s current address listed. He’d have his people pull the company file that held updated information on prominent and/or notorious people. Sol told Rita to stop by his office in the morning. Strickling, his cohort, was retired, but he was still around and might remember Vera’s calls. Sol told her that Mannix himself had died about ten years ago. It was a long shot, she said the company has changed ownership a couple of times since 1945, but maybe an old-timer might still be there who remembered the incident. She planned on corroborating Jerome’s story by visiting the old MGM studio in Culver City. She wanted to get an early start on the Roberts case. Silverman, he does sound like Tex Beneke,” Andre told Sol. “Old guy who used to play the trombone and sing with the Glenn Miller band,” I said. “By God, Andre, the man sounds a lot like Tex Beneke.” I rolled my eyes when he said the entertainer had panache with the ivories, and flair in his voice like he hadn’t heard in years. We kept the Roberts case under wraps, but the subject never left my mind.Īndre came to the table several times, paying obsequious attention to Sol’s comments about the new piano player and his song repertoire. While we ate, Rita and Sol talked and laughed, and every now and then I jumped in with a word or two just to be social. We had dinner in Sol’s private booth at the back of the room. Anyhow, I still figured he was somehow involved in framing Roberts. Hathaway had told her niece that she was blackmailing someone “high in the government”. But then it hit me: it didn’t all fit, as I’d thought at first. Hathaway, especially after I found out that the mystery woman and the hired muscle in the Buick were connected to him. For a moment I’d thought for sure that Jerome had murdered both Vera and Mrs. My appetite had diminished once it became obvious that I’d wound up back on square one with the Roberts case. Rita had skipped lunch interviewing Jerome, and of course Sol was always hungry. The three of us moved into the dining room.
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