Jack of Diamonds (67 page)

‘Please go on,’ I cried, not having ever heard or imagined such a thing could happen to a child in the name of religion.

‘Well, at age fourteen I was considered to be educated. I could read and write, so my folks took me out of school and sent me to work.’

‘So, what happened? How did you get away?’

‘From the Appalachians? I guess it was some sort of vague ambition I probably thought was a sin. The Pentecostals don’t allow anything regarded as “worldly”. For instance, passing a men’s toilet without closing your eyes, going to a movie; that sort of thing was wicked and a way for the devil to tempt people to become sinners. Wearing make-up, dancing in public – even if you were husband and wife – were mortal sins, blasphemy. To imbibe strong drink was undoubtedly the greatest sin of all.’

‘You haven’t answered my question,’ I persisted.

‘Oh, yes; well, my fifteen-year-old cousin Virginia Grant and I moved to Bristol, Tennessee, to work in a small hotel as maids. The hotel, more a motel with cabins and single rooms, was owned by the family of the baker in our home town, who was also a lay preacher in our church, so my parents knew we’d be safe from the devil’s temptation. Well, one Saturday afternoon, filled with guilt and in fear that we’d be struck down by a bolt from heaven, we sneaked into the local movie house. The movie we saw was an old one with Clara Bow, called
It
. Clara played a shopgirl who wins the heart of the shop-owner’s son by means of her ‘it’ quality.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, of course, I remember – the movie was the source of the “It” girl idea,’ I said, ‘but we were only kids when it came out.’

Bridgett laughed, a deep infectious chuckle, which made her even more attractive. ‘Probably a rerun. But for me it was magical. A message from the Lord himself, not the devil. I realised there was a way out for me. I took the movie literally. If Clara Bow, a shopgirl, could marry a shop owner’s son and rise from rags to riches, then so could I, a hillbilly chamber maid.’

‘Which, I guess, brings us to the Mrs Fuller part?’

Bridgett smiled and shook her head. ‘Yes and no. Fourteen is still a bit young, even where I hail from. But I started to keep my eyes and ears open. I looked older than I was and men staying at the hotel, mainly commercial travellers, seemed to find me attractive, even though I never used make-up, of course, or showed any forbidden flesh. Nor did I allow them to touch me. But I sometimes found myself slapping more hands than making beds.

‘By this time, Virginia and I, under the pretence of attending Bible class, had become movie fanatics. We went to the cinema as often as we had money to pay for a ticket.’ Her eyes had taken on a remote look. ‘We must have been the only girls in Tennessee who sat clutching a Bible while they watched a movie. Anyhow, I learned later that Clara Bow had been raised in poverty, too, and that her mother, eventually declared insane, had tried to slit Clara’s throat to prevent her going into the movies. Such fanatical censure from Clara Bow’s mom wasn’t that far from the Pentecostals promising damnation if I indulged in “worldly” things. It all seemed to fit.

‘When I was fifteen, I thought I was practically grown up. Like Clara, I may have been poor and uneducated, but I could learn the ways of the world. I had my hair cut in a bob like hers, even though it was out of date. Using the Singer sewing machine the hotel laundry used for linen repairs I made a pretty dress from a torn yellow cabin curtain. And, most importantly, I began to observe the ways of men.’ She grinned. ‘I was hoping to come across a shop owner’s son. It never occurred to me to see men as romantic or sexual beings. A Pentecostal upbringing runs deep and, contrary to popular belief, mountain clansmen are not sex perverts. Not that I’d have known the meaning of such a horrible term at the time.’

‘But you eventually found Mr Fuller?’

Bridgett laughed softly. ‘Well, he wasn’t the shop owner’s son I was looking for, but – how shall I put it? – I guess you could say he was the result of a very careful selection process. Stephen Fuller was impotent, or rather sexually uninterested in women. Originally from New York State, he was an elocution teacher and an expert on etiquette. I realised even then that I needed my rough edges polished off, and so I married him in Nashville at the age of seventeen and we moved to New York City.’

‘Lenny told me he passed away.’

‘Yes, he died not long ago, of a heart attack. He was still quite young. He taught me everything he knew.’ Bridgett paused. ‘I’d discovered quite soon that he was a homosexual. That is, when I eventually realised there was such a thing as homosexuality. I thought it was something that only happened in the Bible in olden times. Leviticus 18 verse 22: “Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind: it is an abomination,”’ she recited in her Bible voice. ‘Stephen and his friends taught me how to dress and walk and conduct an intelligent discussion. I also learned from magazines, took a part-time modelling class and, naturally, observed the manners and the ways of the educated and well-bred women who stayed at the hotel. I educated myself in business at night school while I worked in the hotel industry, eventually rising from waitress to restaurant manager.’

‘And the physical side of things? Your marriage, I mean. It must have been awkward for both of you.’

‘No, not really; I was growing up fast and eventually I found him a lover, not too difficult in New York when you work at the Algonquin Hotel. As the saying goes, he lived happily ever after, it’s just that “after” wasn’t very long, sadly. We parted ways when I was twenty, but never divorced. We remained good friends.’

‘I’d never, I mean,
never ever
, have believed it!’ I said, hugely impressed.

Bridgett gave a pretty little pout, glancing up at me from under her lashes. ‘So, what you see, Jack, is all a fiction. I’m a complete phoney.’ She touched her lips with a polished scarlet fingernail. ‘The well-rounded vowels are the result of years of practice.’ She grinned. ‘However, this has to be our little secret, Jack.’

I nodded, suddenly serious. Bridgett oozed class – as my mom would have said, ‘She’s
old
money’. Her story only served to increase my admiration, especially with my firsthand knowledge of the enormous distance between poor and rich. I’d travelled part way along that road myself, and it hadn’t been easy. ‘Of course. Allow me to tell you about Cabbagetown, Toronto, some day.’

She laughed again. ‘You’re not serious? Cabbage, like the vegetable?’

‘Uh-huh, though some of us managed to escape the vegetable patch. I was lucky from the start. A schoolteacher believed in me when I was still a very young kid, and I had a mother who loved and protected me from a drunken father.’

‘A drunken father doesn’t sound too lucky,’ she said, one eyebrow arched.

‘No, of course not. My mother was particularly unlucky. But here’s the paradox, and you’re a perfect example of this. It seems to me that happy families don’t have to do a lot of thinking and planning and scheming. They don’t have to leap at every opportunity that comes up. They don’t have to learn from their mistakes because there’s always someone to cover for them. But I grew up with a loving and determined mother fighting off a violent drunken husband, and having to support her son on a pittance from working as a night cleaner in an office block in downtown Toronto. That brings you into the real world fast, makes you realise it’s sink or swim and you have to grab every opportunity. But, of course, you’d know that.’

‘You’re right, Jack. I’d never thought of it in quite that way.’

‘Have you ever been back, to see your parents?’ I asked.

‘No,’ she said quietly.

There were several moments of silence between us before I dared ask the question now uppermost in my mind. I concluded that she’d never have told me all this if a cocktail or two too many hadn’t loosened her tongue, and I knew I’d never get a better opportunity. ‘Bridgett, I have one more question.’

‘Goodness, Jack, only one?’ she said with that gorgeous throaty laugh. ‘They say confession is good for the soul, but I’ve already told you more than I’ve ever told anyone else, except Stephen, of course. I won’t answer if I think it inappropriate,’ she said casually, but I knew she meant it.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Well, then, Jack, what else do you wish to know?’

‘What have you got over Chicago?’ I blurted. Then, ‘Sorry, I mean, why did they agree to build the Firebird?’

Bridgett looked momentarily bemused. ‘Oh, so you know about that.’ She paused. ‘No, don’t tell me, Lenny would have told you.’

‘Yes, but he doesn’t know why. And after the disaster of the Flamingo —’

‘The Firebird will succeed, Jack, but you’re right, there’s another reason Chicago agreed.’ Bridgett paused again and I waited for what seemed like an eternity before she sighed and said, ‘Jack, it’s all in the paperwork.’

‘You mean a contract?’

Bridgett smiled. ‘No, Jack, it’s a special kind of paperwork. I was very disappointed when Mr Accardo said he wouldn’t consider opening on the highway. I knew we had to expand, to offer more to our clients. The El Marinero was never going to be enough.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘I suppose this was the opportunity I’d been waiting for all my life.’

‘What? Running a bigger, more luxurious gambling casino in Las Vegas?’

‘No, of course not, Jack! It was my opportunity to secure my future, to own a share of something really big. Not just savings after a lifetime of hard work. I’ve seen how the rich live and make their money, and it isn’t by opening a savings account in a bank. I wanted the same. I guess we’re different, Jack; you’ve got talent and you’ll always be safe. With my background, security is everything. Put simply, I want to be rich. Filthy rich! So, I went to Chicago to attempt to persuade them to open on Highway 91.’

‘But wasn’t that always going to be a gamble? Especially with Bugsy Siegel making such a mess of things with the Flamingo.’

‘No, I didn’t, and still don’t, believe so. Meyer Lansky isn’t a fool; he wouldn’t have invested so much in Billy Wilkerson’s Flamingo unless he was pretty certain it was going to work.’

‘But getting Bugsy Siegel to build the Flamingo was not exactly a shrewd move,’ I countered.

Bridgett fixed her green eyes on me. ‘You’re probably right, Jack. But if I had the money and the opportunity, even with all that’s happened, I’d
still
invest in the Flamingo.’

‘Really?’ It was all I could think to say.

‘Yes, but, sadly, I don’t have the money. So, the Firebird was my best bet; I flew to Chicago and, I must say, it wasn’t pleasant.’

‘I can imagine.’

Bridgett looked at me. ‘No, Jack, I doubt you can. Tony Accardo can be a very frightening man. He told me plainly that if I took my Waldorf list to another casino, I’d be “one dead dame”. What’s more, he wouldn’t even listen to my plan for the Firebird. Said he had more important things to do than talk to some dumb broad who wanted to send him broke.’

I shook my head, hardly believing my ears. ‘So, what did you do?’

‘I returned to Las Vegas and called my lawyers in New York, and several days later they paid Tony Accardo a visit.’

‘I don’t understand? Why? Why would that help?’

‘It’s because of my paperwork. They presented Tony Accardo with copies of it – years of carefully documented notes, about tax evasion, mostly; that’s how the FBI put Al Capone away. But more, much more: bribery of officials, state and federal; judges; police and others. The skim takings, money laundering and four cases of murder, with every detail – the why, how and when, and who ordered it – all documented. My lawyers pointed out to Mr Accardo that they felt sure killing me wasn’t the wisest option, since the original documents were in a very secure place, and that building the Firebird on the highway seemed like a very intelligent idea. As proof of my confidence in the decision and as a mark of his goodwill and trust, I respectfully requested two points in the new casino, with no provisos, and the profits to be audited by an independent accountant not under Manny de Costa’s supervision.’

I felt cold all over. Wasn’t that blackmail? And of some of the most powerful and ruthless men in America?

Bridgett paused, then continued. ‘The two points were a reward for my years of faithful service, during which I had added greatly to their wealth.’

‘Two points?’

‘Per cent.’ Bridgett grinned. ‘So, you can see, I’ve got a big personal investment in making the Firebird work.’

‘You must be pretty sure it will.’

‘Jack, I was right to tell Mr Accardo that the Flamingo would take our business if we didn’t act, and act fast. My ladies trust me and I trust them but, in most things, wives don’t have the final say.’ She paused. ‘Meyer Lansky made me an offer, but even if my paperwork prevented Chicago from killing me, I couldn’t have hoped to make anything like the kind of deal I wanted. I’ve got nothing on New York, so points in the Flamingo would have been out of the question. Thank god Bugsy Siegel is such an incompetent fool. He allowed me just enough breathing space to get Chicago to build the Firebird in a year. So, you see, Jack, it can’t fail. Every member of The Princess, every girlfriend and wife, has agreed to follow you to the Firebird.’

It was a nice thing to say, but I knew they’d really be following the beautiful Mrs Bridgett Fuller.