You Make Me Feel So Dead (26 page)

‘Damn,' I said. We'd been talking to the guy who probably killed Reynolds. The guy who probably took the gun from Danny's locker and used it.

The guy who tried to get me to drink apple juice.

‘What is it?'

‘Never mind,' I said. Bonpensiero was probably already back in LA. His job was done. ‘It's all over now, anyway. Danny's off the hook, and that's all we wanted, right?'

‘Right,' she said, ‘well, that and Danny alive.'

I had told Brewster that Danny was getting out of jail in the morning. He probably figured if he took Danny out, he'd die with the blame for Reynolds' murder still on him.

There was no way I was going to LA to hunt down a hired killer. Bonpensiero was out of my league. Besides, Roselli would probably have him looking for Scaffazza now, and leave Danny alone.

I'd have to be satisfied with what Penny said. Danny was off the hook, and alive.

‘W
hat happened with Elvis?' Roger Bennett asked.

‘He went back to Memphis,' I said.

‘Did you see him again? Did you stay friends?'

‘I saw him when he came back to Vegas in '67 to marry Priscilla. And then again in '69 when the International opened. That's when he really hit it big in Las Vegas.'

‘So you didn't stay friends?'

‘We were friends, Roger,' I said, ‘but I wasn't part of the Memphis Mafia. We weren't that close.'

Roger and I were in a small restaurant just down the street from our building. It wasn't a place I'd take a lady friend for dinner, but it was certainly good enough for lunch.

‘Hey, I got a question,' Roger said.

‘I thought you'd have a lot.'

‘When Elvis hit that guy over the head with that chair, did he kill 'im?'

‘You know, he asked me the same thing later,' I said. ‘It really bothered him. Fact is, all those guys were killed by bullets. Elvis just helped him hit the floor.'

I sipped my coffee, knowing I was going to pay for it later. I usually had a cup in the morning, and another in the evening. Another by-product of being in my eighties. Coffee was not my friend.

‘What about the plate number?'

‘That turned out to be Danny's car, after all. The woman got the plate right, she just wasn't sure when she saw it.'

‘But what about Danny's shooting?' Roger asked. ‘Did you ever find out the truth about that? Was it Bon … Bon … what's his name? The hit man?'

‘As a matter of fact,' I said, ‘it wasn't …'

A couple of days after Elvis had gone back to Memphis, and both Frank and Dean had left town, I got two phone calls. The first was from Frank, calling me from Palm Springs.

‘Hey, Frank, you back in town?'

‘Naw, I'm home. I just wanted to tell you I heard from my guy in Chicago.'

‘Oh, OK.' I'd forgotten I'd asked him to check on Albert Kroner for me. From his hospital bed Danny had told me to stop worrying about Kroner. He'd take care of that case when he got back on his feet. So I did it. I forgot.

‘What'd you find out?'

He told me …

Later that day I got a call at the Sands from Connie, the bartender in Laughlin.

‘Hey, Mr Gianelli? It's Connie. From the Riverside?'

‘Oh, hi, Connie,' I said. I asked him the same thing I'd asked Frank. ‘You in town?' Figuring he was coming over for a job interview.

‘Naw, I'm still in Laughlin. But you asked me to watch our handy man, Ed Rosette?'

‘Yeah?'

‘Strangest thing,' Connie said. ‘I followed him one day—'

‘You what?'

‘I followed him.'

‘Connie, I just meant for you to keep an eye on him.'

‘Well, I did, I followed him. And listen to this. He goes to this empty lot and starts shooting this rifle.'

‘A rifle?'

‘Yeah, a fancy one with a scope? Kinda weird, huh?' he asked.

‘Yeah, weird.'

‘That's what I figured, so I followed him again, did it for a couple of days. And he does the same thing, only get this. Every day he gets better. On the third day, he's hittin' his targets – buncha tin cans – every time. Can you imagine a guy gettin' that good at somethin' in that short a time?'

‘That is strange, Connie,' I said. ‘Listen, thanks.'

‘Yeah, sure,' Connie said. ‘I, uh, still intend to come to Vegas to apply for that job.'

‘You do that,' I said, ‘and I'll make sure you get it.'

Elvis, Frank and Dino might have left town, but Jerry decided
to stay for a while. He played the ponies. I found him at the Sands sports book and asked, ‘Wanna take a ride?'

‘Where?'

‘Laughlin.'

‘Hey, that's the place you took Elvis for that ninety-eight cent chicken dinner.'

‘That's the place.'

‘Let's go.'

I figured the best way to brace Rosette was at work. He wouldn't expect it.

He was around the side of the motel, this time, but still using the hose.

‘Hey, Rosette!' I called.

He looked up, saw me standing there, and straightened. He also saw Jerry standing behind me.

‘Whataya want?'

‘I want you to drop the act, Albert,' I said.

‘What? What did you call me?'

‘I called you by your real name. Albert Kroner. A Chicago lawyer who embezzled two million dollars from his clients.'

He laughed. ‘I look like I got two million bucks?'

‘You look exactly like a guy who has two million dollars, but doesn't want anyone to know about it. You also have a job that a guy with a genius IQ, who can learn to do anything in a few days, would have.'

‘I don't know what you're talkin' about.'

‘We talked to some of your neighbors in Chicago, Albert,' I said. ‘They didn't like you much, said you weren't very friendly. But you know what they each said? You were remarkable. You could teach yourself to do anything in a very short time. One guy said – and get this – that if you ever got disbarred, you'd make a great handy man.'

He dropped the hose, wiped his hands on his pants. He looked around, maybe for a weapon. I doubt he had the rifle anywhere near the hotel. Maybe in his car.

‘After the last time I was here you decided you needed to learn how to shoot, so you bought yourself an expensive rifle – maybe a sniper's rifle – and you started practicing. Then you came to Vegas and waited for your chance to shoot Danny Bardini. Probably followed me – and you could've taught yourself how to do that without being spotted.'

He didn't say anything.

‘I got a question, Albert,' I said. ‘How come a genius like you didn't think to shoot me?'

He stared at me, licked his lips, then said, ‘I figured you worked for Bardini, and if I got rid of him, that would be the end of it.' Suddenly, his speech pattern was more like a lawyer than like a handy man. ‘So what now, Mr Gianelli?'

‘Now,' I said, ‘you go back to Chicago to give those people their money back.'

‘And if I don't?'

‘My buddy Jerry, here, will break your back.'

‘It appears you leave me no choice.'

‘Jerry,' I said.

Jerry took a step back and waved. Two uniformed police officers appeared and approached Albert Kroner.

‘Go with these nice men, Albert,' I said. ‘They'll arrange for you to be extradited to Illinois.'

As the two police officers marched Kroner to their car, Jerry asked, ‘Can we get that ninety-eight cent chicken dinner now?'

‘Wow,' Roger said, regarding me across the table. He wasn't dressed like Elvis, but he still had the hair and sideburns. It was almost like sitting across from the King. If I put a hat and glasses on him. ‘I guess they were right about you, Mr G.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You really did have everything it took to be a good private eye.'