Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime (18 page)

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Authors: Robert J. Randisi

BOOK: Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime
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W
HEN I GOT DOWN to the casino floor in front of the lounge the police had Jerry Epstein in handcuffs. Two uniformed officers were flanking him, while Detectives Hargrove and Smith were fronting him.
When Hargrove saw me coming he turned my way and smiled. “Just the man I wanted to see,” he said. “We were comin’ to look for you next.”
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Why do you have this man handcuffed?”
“Well, Mr. Gianelli,” Hargrove said, “he’s under arrest.”
“For what?”
“Suspicion of murder.”
I looked at Jerry, who stared back at me with no expression. Just for a second I thought he gave me a head shake. Don’t say anything, he was warning me.
“Who is he supposed to have murdered?”
“A coupla guys in a flophouse off the strip,” Smith said. “Maybe you heard of them? Anthony ‘Buzzy’ Ravisi and Lenny Davis? They pretty much ran in your circle.”
I looked at Smith for a moment and held my tongue, even though I knew what he meant. I didn’t know how long he’d been a detective
but there was a time when, even though he was a police officer, he would not have been permitted to make an arrest because he was a Negro. Things were changing, but not that much. I didn’t know if he was looking down his nose at me and my Italian ancestry or if he was just an asshole.
“Forgive me, Detective, but you don’t know what circle I run in. And I don’t know what circles these men ran in.”
“Pretty much the same as this joker here,” Hargrove said. “You got imported New York muscle workin’ for you, and you expect us to believe you don’t run with the same company?”
“Jerry doesn’t work for me, Detective,” I said.
“Then what’s he doin’ here?”
I could feel Jerry’s eyes on me, waiting to see if I was going to give Frank Sinatra up. I can’t say I wouldn’t have, if the cuffs had been on me, but I knew he’d cut out his tongue before he spoke Frank’s name. Or Mo Mo Giancana’s, for that matter.
“He’s gambling, as far as I know. Spent some time playing horses yesterday.”
“That’s not all he did, yesterday.”
Hargrove turned and put his hand out. One of the uniforms handed him Jerry’s .45, holding it by the trigger guard.
“He killed two people with this gun.”
Well, I knew that wasn’t true. Jerry had killed one man with that gun.
“Once I prove it, he’ll be up for murder, and you,” he said, “will probably be locked up as an accessory.”
“Accessory?”
“That’s what we call people who are present when someone is murdered,” he explained, “and who help the murderer.”
“Detective,” I said, “I really think you’ve got the wrong guys—”
“We’ll see,” he replied, “once our witness gets a look at the two of you.”
“Are you takin’ me in?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Hargrove said. “First we’ll have him ID Big Jerry, here. Once that’s done, we’ll have you in for a lineup. Meanwhile,
don’t even think about leavin’ town. That would sort of be the same as a confession, don’t you think?”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Detective,” I assured him, with much more confidence than I was feeling at the moment. “I’m not guilty of anything.” There you go, I thought, a bold-faced lie.
“We’ll see about that.” he turned to the two cops holding onto Jerry. “Take him out.”
“Jerry,” I said, “the Sands will get a lawyer for you.”
“I’m not worried,” Jerry said to me. “I’ll be out before the end of the day.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Hargrove said. “Get him out of here.”
“Detective,” a voice behind me said.
I turned and saw Jack Entratter standing there. He’d straightened his suit and combed his hair, and he looked calm and collected. Still looked like he was going to burst out of his clothes, though.
“Mr. Entratter.”
“Can we talk? Privately?”
“Sure.”
I don’t know what surprised me more, that they knew each other, or that Hargrove was so willing to talk to Jack.
He took the Detective into the lounge, up to the bar where they could both sit on stools. I turned and looked at Jerry. The two cops had started to hustle him away, but now they were waiting for further instructions.
“What are you waiting for?” Detective Smith demanded. “Get him out of here!”
Both of the cops were white and they simply stared at Smith and didn’t move. They were obviously going to take their cue from Hargrove.
Smith turned and glared at me. He seemed angry that I had witnessed the lack of respect he commanded from the white cops. Not my problem, I thought, and looked away.
The conversation between Entratter and Hargrove was fairly animated, went on for a few minutes, and did not turn out the way I expected. I figured with Jack being all calm and charming he’d get his
way, even if he had to pull out Frank Costello’s name to do it. However, when they came back Jack was not looking happy.
“Let’s go,” Hargrove said to the cops.
“Uh, are we takin’ him in?” one of them asked.
“Of course we’re taking him in,” Hargrove said. He turned to Entratter. “Have your lawyer ask for me.”
“I’ll do that, Detective.”
Hargrove gave me a look, then turned and followed the other cops out. Jerry went along as meek as a kitten.
“He’s fucked,” I said to Jack. “When they run that gun he’s screwed, and so am I.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
Entratter looked at me.
“That’s not the same gun.”
“What?” I asked. “How do you know?”
He smiled and said, “Because he got rid of it. I got him one just like it.”
I
WANTED TO GO the police station to help Jerry get released. Entratter vetoed the idea.
“What can you do that our lawyers can’t?” he asked. “Besides, if they decide they want to lock you up too, let them come lookin’ for you.”
“So what do I do?”
“What you’ve been doin’,” he said. “What you planned to do. Let me worry about gettin’ Jerry out.”
I have to admit, part of me was wondering who would watch my back while Jerry was in custody. It was selfish, I know, but I’d already been around more violence in the past few days than all of my life—including a couple of years on the streets in Brooklyn.
The other part of me just wanted to get Jerry out. After all, I knew he’d killed Buzzy Ravisi in self-defense, and had saved my life in the process. I already owed him a lot.
“I’m goin’ back to my office,” he said. “What was all that about with Marcia?”
“Just a few things I needed,” I assured him. “Nothing to worry about.”
Jack pointed a big index finger at me.
“That’s good,” he said, “because I have enough to worry about.
Fix this Dean Martin thing, Eddie. I’m countin’ on you, and so is Frank.”
“I won’t let you down.”
Another bold-faced lie? That remained to be seen.
 
 
I got to a phone and called Danny Bardini. I told him he could pick the list up from Marcia in the morning and, oh yeah, he had a date with her.
“This the Marcia you went out with a few times?” he asked. “Frizzy hair, sexy mouth, whole eyeglasses thing goin’ on?”
“That’s the one,” I said. “She’s kinda special, Danny.”
“I’m hip,” he said.
“Then you’ll do it?” I asked.
“I’ll answer that after you tell me what it is I have to do.”
“Easy,” I said. “Just escort her to a Rat Pack show and then take her back stage to meet Sinatra.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Danny said, “That means I get to meet Frank, too?”
“Yes.”
“And Dean Martin?”
“Yes.”
“And Angie Dickinson?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “If she’s there … maybe.” I still hadn’t gotten to meet Angie Dickinson, myself. “I’ll arrange for you to get back stage. Will you do it?”
“It’s a sacrifice,” he said, “but somebody has to do it.”
With that done I told him how Jerry had been arrested.
“If he goes down he’ll take you with him, ol’ buddy,” he warned.
“I don’t think so, Danny,” I said, “but I’m not all that sure he’ll go down. Apparently, he’s already dumped the gun, so their ballistics test is not gonna come up with a match. Our only problem is the witness.”
“What witness?”
“That’s the problem,” I said. “I don’t know.”
“Eddie, if there’s a witness that can ID you and him …”
“I know,” I said. “It won’t even matter that it was self-defense. They’ll wonder why we didn’t report it in the first place.”
“Wait until they get a sheet on Jerry,” he added. “I’ll bet he’s been a bad boy in New York.”
“Entratter’s gonna get him an attorney.”
“Probably a mob attorney,” Danny said. “That’ll seal the deal.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Might as well get on with what you have to do while you’re waitin’,” he suggested.
“I know,” I said. “Jack already told me that. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“You gonna be there when I pick up the list?”
“Of course,” I said. “I have to introduce you to Marcia.”
“Was this date her idea, or yours?”
“Why would a date with you be my idea?” I asked.
After we hung up I wondered if Jerry’d had time to arrange for me to see Frank. The only way I was going to find that out was to find Joey Bishop, or have Entratter call down to the steam room for me.
Or, I could just go down to the steam room myself and see if I’d made the A-list all on my own.
W
HEN I GOT DOWN TO THE steam room I was surprised to see that all of the bathrobes were missing from the pegs. Apparently, every one of the Rat Packers were having a steam after the day’s shooting. There were plain bathrobes in a closet. I debated for a moment whether or not I should go in, then decided, what the hell? It was as good a time as any to be properly introduced to the ones I hadn’t met yet, and it was a good test to see how welcome I’d be.
I got undressed, donned a robe and entered the steam room.
“Whoa!” Sammy Davis said. “Who’s the strange cat?”
“Take it easy, Smokey,” Frank said. “This is Eddie G. He’s a pit boss in the casino, and a new friend. Come on in, pally. Have a seat and I’ll introduce you.”
It occurred to me that this could get awkward. Sammy, Peter Lawford and Joey Bishop didn’t know about the threats against Dino. Also, Peter and Sammy didn’t know that Joey had brought me to Frank. So the only one who knew everything that was going on were me, Frank and Dean.
Frank made the introductions around the room, as if I didn’t know anyone, except when he got to Dean he added, “And, of course, you know Dino.”
“Yes,” I said, “of course.”
“I say,” Peter said to me, “I think I saw you on the set today.”
“That’s right, Charlie,” Frank said. “I gave the okay for Eddie to come and watch some of the shoot.”
“Welcome to the club, Clyde,” Sammy said. “Take in a steam with the cool cats.”
“Thanks.”
“Eddie,” Frank said, “Sammy just asked me to be his best man. He’s asked May Britt to marry him.”
I looked at Sammy, who today was wearing his eye patch. I assumed the glass eye, which he wore on stage and in the movie, was not behind it.
“Really? That’s great. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, man,” Sammy said. “I know there’s gonna be some cats out there who are gonna get all bent out of shape, but we love each other. I don’t care how many threats I get, I’m gonna marry ’er.”
“Threats?” I looked at Frank.
“The usual things,” Frank said. “that is, usual for Sammy.”
“’Die nigger,’” Sammy said, “’die Jew.’ I’m used to it, but it upsets May.”
“Fuck ’em,” I said. “Bunch of ignorant bastards.”
“Hey, Frank,” Sammy said, “I like this boy.”
“Hey, Eddie,” Dean said, “I might feel like dealin’ some blackjack tonight. You gonna be in the pit?”
“I’m actually off the clock at the moment, Dean,” I said, “but I can make a point to be in the house tonight.”
If I had to stay in to let Dean do some dealing, it kept me from going outside without my backup man, Jerry. Given how close I’d come to physical harm, and even death, I didn’t relish hitting the streets without him.
“Well,” Dean said, stepping down off the risers, “I’m gonna hit my room and take a shower, get ready for the show.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “See ya later, pally.”
“I’ve had enough, too,” Joey Bishop said. “See you fellas at the show.”
“Yes, I suppose it’s that time,” Peter Lawford said. “I have to call Pat, anyway. Good to meet you, Eddie.”
He waved as he went out the door. That left me with Frank and Sammy. I looked at Frank, to take my cue from him, but he and Sammy started talking about the wedding and I thought I should leave. Frank stopped me.
“You just got here, Clyde,” he said. “Stick around. Sammy’s gotta go anyway.”
“May’s waitin’ for me,” Sammy said. “See you later, Frank. Good to meet you, Eddie.” He shook my hand, a fierce grip for a man so small in stature, but huge in talent.
“What a bunch, huh?” Frank asked.
“Yeah,” I said, “it’s good to have friends.”
“You got friends, Eddie?” he asked. “I mean, a lot of friends?”
“Not a lot,” I said. “A few good ones.”
“Hang onto them,” he said. “You never know who your true friends are. Some of ’em, they just need you, or wanna use you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said, “Frank, I need to talk to Sammy and Peter about threats.”
“You just talked to Sammy.”
“I mean, about the same kind of threats Dean’s been gettin’.”
“Why do you have to do that?” he asked, with a frown.
“What if one of them has been gettin’ the same threats, but hasn’t said somethin’ about it?” I asked.
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “I’m just tryin’ to come up with a next step. If one of them has been gettin’ threats then we’ll know they’re not just bein’ aimed at Dean.”
He thought that over for a moment, then said, “I see your point. You’ll have to talk to Joey, too.”
“That’s right.”
Frank scratched his cheek and thought a moment.
“Try to do it discreetly,” he said. “Don’t tell ’em about Dean if you don’t have to.”
“What can I—”
“Just say your askin’ all of ’em about it,” he suggested, “even Dean.”
“And what do I tell them is the reason?” I asked. “I mean, I’m just a pit boss.”
“Tell ’em you’re doin’ it for the Sands. Tell ’em Jack Entratter wants to make sure they’re safe in his hotel.”
We both knew what they’d think, that Frank Costello wants to make sure they’re safe. It would make them pretty sure I worked for Costello and, consequently
La Cosa Nostra.
I didn’t like havin’ anybody think I was mobbed up, but when it came to these guys, when was I ever going to see them again after they finished filming the movie? We just didn’t travel in the same circles.
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll be discreet.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you. So, how’s Jerry workin’ out for ya?”
“He got arrested tonight.”
“What? When? Where? And for what?”
I explained that the cops had come to the casino and arrested Jerry on suspicion of murder.
“Did Jerry murder someone?”
“Well, no,” I said, “He, uh, did kill someone, but it wasn’t murder.”
Frank looked disgusted.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened, Eddie?”
“How much has Jerry told you?”
“That doesn’t matter,” he said. “Come on, give.”
So I told him everything that had gone on, before and after Jerry. He listened intently and did not interrupt me once. I wondered how much of my story matched Jerry’s, and why there would be any discrepancy.
When I was done he said, “Jesus, you’ve been through a lot.”
“We—”
“And all to do me and Dean a favor?” he asked. “You sure Jack didn’t threaten you and make you help?”
“No,” I said.
“Maybe you should bow out,” Frank said. “Stay healthy.”
“Frank, I started this, I’d like to finish it.”
“You sure everything is tied together?”
“The warehouse you’re using as a set is where Mike Borraco was killed. Up to that point I thought everything was separate, but now I have my doubts.”
“And you don’t want to quit?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re a stand-up guy, Eddie.”
I didn’t reply.
“Stay inside tonight,” he said. “Dean says he wants to deal some blackjack, so you don’t have to go out. Tomorrow you’ll have Jerry back. Jack Entratter will see to that.”
“Frank, I was just wonderin’.”
“Wonderin’ what?”
“Couldn’t you ask some of your … friends for help?”
“Sometimes,” Frank said, “askin’ the wrong people for help is a sign of weakness, Eddie.”
I guess that was supposed to answer my question.
“I’ve got to get ready for the show,” he said. “You gonna be there tonight with your girl?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, “and Bev was just a friend, not my girl.”
“Oh. When she turned down Nick Conte I thought she was your girl.”
“No.”
We left the steam room together. He dropped his robe and started to get dressed, so I did the same. I told him I had some friends coming to the show tomorrow night, and wanted to get them back stage. He said he’d arrange it. I gave him Danny and Marcia’s names.
“The doll,” he said. “Another friend?”
“Yeah,” I said, “another friend.”
He wagged his index finer at me and said, “Sounds to me like you got more than just a few.”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s go, kid,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder. “We both got things to do.”
We made our way to the casino floor and stopped there.
“Listen, if things start to get really hairy, I can probably get you some more help,” he said. “You just let me know.”
“Okay, Frank. Thanks.”
He nodded and went off to get ready for the show. Me, I stood there wondering how much hairier things could get.

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