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Authors: Robert J. Randisi

Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime (22 page)

BOOK: Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime
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J
ERRY MADE ME WAIT just inside the front door while he brought the car around. Jack Entratter had given him a vehicle registered to the Sands, a black Mercury. As I got in and he drove off we were both silent. I knew we were each thinking about my late Caddy.
“Well,” he said, breaking the quiet, “one good thing came out of this.”
“What’s that?”
“You ain’t a suspect no more,” he said. “Cops figure somebody tried to blow you up might be the same somebody killed those girls, and Mike Borraco.”
“I guess that’s one way of puttin’ a positive spin on it.”
“It ever happen to you before?”
“Never. You?”
“Once.”
“What happened?”
“I got lucky,” Jerry said. “Like you.”
“Just a coupla lucky stiffs,” I said.
“Better’n a coupla dead ones.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
 
 
When we got to the Sands we both headed up to Jack Entratter’s office, but Jerry stayed out in the waiting room while I went inside.
“You look woozy,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“You shoulda went home.”
“This is my home.”
“Eddie—”
“I know what you meant, Jack,” I said, cutting him off. “I don’t wanna go home. I’m pissed, I wanna do something.”
“Like what?”
“Kick some ass,” I said, “I just have to find out whose ass to kick.”
“Let it go.”
“What?”
“Let the cops find who put the bomb in your car.”
“We went through this last night, Jack,” I said. “They’re gonna keep comin’ for me, whoever they are.”
“I thought of that,” he said. “I got an idea.”
“What?”
“Get outta town.”
“And go where?”
“Reno,” Entratter said. “Frank’s got a piece of the Cal-Neva. You can work there for a while.”
“I appreciate the offer, Jack,” I said, “but I can’t do that.”
“Eddie, if you get yerself killed, I’m the one’s gonna be pissed.”
“I appreciate the thought, Jack—”
“I’d have to replace you,” he went on, “and good pit bosses are hard to find.”
“I get it, Jack,” I said.
“Keep Jerry with you.”
“I plan to.” I stood up. “What happened with the cops? I thought they’d be all over me when I woke up this mornin’.”
“I got them to lay off ya,” he said, “but they’ll wanna talk to you later today. Not that you’re a suspect no more—”
“Jerry told me.”
“—but they figure whoever tried to kill you probably killed Borraco and those broads.”
“They still like Lucky Lou for that?”
“Either that, or they just don’t have any other suspects.”
I sat there for a moment, going over it in my head.
“I can’t see Lou tryin’ to blow me up,” I said, finally.
“Why?” Entratter asked. “Are you and him such good buds?”
“No, but—”
“If he did kill the two broads and Mike Borraco, he don’t like you pokin’ around, Eddie,” he said. “You see Lou Terrazo comin’ at you, I’d go the other way. Lou’s a made guy.”
“What?” I said. “I thought he was just …”
“Just what? Another mug? Naw, Lou made his bones in Chicago years ago. I gotta tell you, if you’re on Lou’s list …”
Christ, I thought, how stupid could I be? I worked in Vegas right in the midst of these guys. Just because I didn’t think they were very bright didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous.
“What about Borraco?” I asked. Jerry had asked me if Borraco was made, but I didn’t know.
“What, made? Mikey? Naw, not yet, maybe not ever. Mikey was a gopher, Eddie. If you had him pegged that way, you had him pegged right. But Lou … he’s a killer.”
So if Lou Terrazo was not only a killer but the killer, the cops were already on his tail. Did he think killin’ me would get them off? Or was I just next on his list?
“So like I say, keep Jerry close to you.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, “close as a Siamese twin.”
“A what twin?”
“Close, Jack,” I said, “I’m gonna keep him real close.”
 
 
I collected Jerry and we went back down to the casino floor. I realized that lately I had been prowling the floor without my customary black “pit-boss” suit, just going with slacks and polo shirts. I thought it was odd, so I wondered why nobody had been commenting on it.
But walking through the casino today I was getting comments about the bandage over my eye and the stiff way I was moving. Maybe people did care.
“I gotta go talk to Frank,” Jerry said, suddenly. “He wanted to know when you got out of the hospital.”
“Isn’t he shooting at some of the casinos?”
“Yeah,” he said, “tomorrow they shoot here. I think they’re at the Riviera today.”
“Well, go ahead,” I said. “I’ll be okay here.”
“Don’t leave or anythin’ until I get back.”
“I won’t, believe me. I’m not goin’ anywhere without you, Jerry.”
That seemed to please him.
“I’ll get back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll be around, down here on the floor, somewhere,” I said, “or in the lounge.”
“You want I should give you a gun—”
“Go!” I said.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’m goin’.”
He walked across the floor and out toward the front door. I turned and headed for the lounge. When I got there I saw that Bev was working, so I sat at one of her stations. Some baby-faced kid was on stage singing in what sounded like German. He didn’t look old enough to even be in a casino.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “I heard what happened.” Gently she touched my head near the bandage. “Why would someone do that to you?”
“Maybe it was a jealous husband,” I kidded.
“Are you sleeping with other men’s wives again, Eddie?” she scolded me.
“What do you mean, again?”
She laughed.
“What can I bring you. A beer?”
“No,” I said. “Something that will numb the pain. Bourbon on the rocks should do it.”
“Comin’ up.”
She turned and flounced off to the bar. I was watching her and
didn’t notice the man approaching my booth until he slid into it across from me.
“Don’t make any sudden moves, Eddie,” he said.
I looked at him and didn’t recognize him right away. He was wearing a Dodger baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, which were covered by sunglasses. As a Yankee fan I found the hat offensive, but before I could say a word he reached across the table and grabbed my wrist.
“Hey!” I said. “What gives?”
“I got a gun pointed at you under the table,” he said. “We’re goin’ for a walk.”
“Who the hell—”
“What do you want to see first?” he asked. “My face or the gun?”
“Let’s start with the face.”
He released my wrist, lifted the ball cap and removed the glasses.
“Hiya, Eddie,” Lucky Lou Terazzo said. “I hear you been lookin’ for me.”
J
ESUS, LOU,“I said.”What the hell are ya doin’?”
“We’re gonna get up and walk outta here together,” Terazzo said.
I licked my lips and looked around. No one was looking our way.
“What if I don’t wanna go?” I asked. “You gonna shoot me here, in front of all these people?”
“Why not?” he asked. “I killed three people already, ain’t I? Three this week, that is.”
Oh Christ, I thought, he just confessed to me. No way I was getting out of this alive. Why had I let Jerry go?
As if reading my mind Terazzo said, “I been waitin’ for your big New York gun to take a walk. I ain’t gonna miss this chance to take you out—not after missin’ you last night.”
“You blew up my car?”
He nodded.
“I did some demolition in Korea,” he said. “Guess I was rusty, or you were lucky. One of the two. But now I’m gonna take you out myself, the easy way.”
“B-but, why me? What’d I do to you?”
“You started askin’ questions,” he said. “I didn’t need you askin’ questions when I was plannin’ on killin’ Carla. I panicked.”
“Why Carla?”
“She was cheatin’ on me.”
I didn’t bother asking with who. That really didn’t matter, in the long run.
“And why her roommate?”
“She got in the way,” he said. “It was an accident.”
“She didn’t fall over the railing into the pool and drown.”
“No,” he said. “I hit her and she died. Simple as that. I dumped her into the filthy pool, figured nobody’d find her until I finished with Carla.”
“And what about Mike Borraco?”
“He was helpin’ you, wasn’t he? Askin’ about me? Come on, let’s go.”
“Wait.” Even with my own death staring me in the face I figured this might be my only chance to find out if the killings were connected to the threats on Dino. “Why were you sending threats to Dean Martin?”
“What?” he asked. “Whataya talkin’ about? What threats?”
“You weren’t sending threatening notes to Dean Martin?”
“What the hell for?” He looked amazed. “I love the way that guy sings.”
“But … why did you dump Mike’s body at the warehouse they’re using for
Ocean’s Eleven
?”
“Hey,” he said, “I was cruisin’ Industrial Drive with a body in the trunk. I stopped at the first place I could find to dump it.”
A coincidence?
“And what the hell did you come lookin’ for me in the first place for?” he asked. “What’d I ever do to you?”
“I-I just wanted to ask you some questions about … about Dean Martin.”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Somebody was sending him threats and you thought I’d know who it was?”
“I thought you might have heard rumors,” I said. “I—I was stuck, didn’t really know what to do next.”
He glared at me, and I didn’t know if he was going to laugh or cry.
“You just stumbled into my life? And ended up finding Misty’s body?”
“That’s the way it went.”
“And you called the cops?”
“Lou … I’m sorry. I just—”
“Shut up!” he snapped. “Just shut up. Because you went bumblin’ around I got to kill you, too. Let’s go.”
“Lou—”
“All I got to do is finish you and I can blow town.”
“Blow town anyway, Lou. I won’t say a word.”
“Sorry, Eddie,” Lou said. “You’re a decent guy, but I can’t afford to take the chance, ya know?”
“Yeah,” I said, “yeah, I know.”
“Here comes your waitress,” Terazzo said. “She your girl?”
“She’s got nothin’ to do with anything, Lou.”
“Well, you walk on out of here with me and she won’t get hurt.
Capice?”
“Yeah, Eddie, I
capice
.”
“Here’s your drink, Eddie,” Bev said, reaching the table.
“I just remembered I’ve got an appointment,” I said to her.
“Don’t I know you?” she asked Terazzo.
“Naw, you don’t know me, girlie. Come on, Eddie.”
Terazzo slid out of the booth. There was no gun in his hand, so I assumed it was in his belt.
“No, I think I recognize you—”
“No, you don’t.” I grabbed her hand, stuffed a twenty into it.
“You don’t know him.”
We started for the door with Terazzo behind me when Bev called out, “Yeah, I remember. Lou Terazzo.”
“Hold it!” Terazzo said.
“Forget it, Lou.”
“Just stop. Turn around.”
We both turned, and when we did I saw that Terazzo did have his gun in his belt, at the front of his pants.
“C’mere, sweetie,” he said to Bev.
Suddenly, Beverly looked uncertain, as if she realized something was going on she didn’t understand.
“I—I got to finish my shift—”
“Your shift is finished.” He pulled his jacket back to show her his gun. “Now c’mon over here, or your boyfriend gets it.”
“Lou, let ’er go—”
“She knows me, Eddie,” Lou said. “I can’t.” He looked at Bev. “Now, sister. Move!”
Bev looked around the lounge, but everybody was listening to the fresh-faced kid on stage go into his next song. Nobody was paying any attention to us.
She sidled over to us and Terazzo made her stand next to me.
“Now we’re all leavin’, nice and quiet,” he said. “Like three happy friends. Got it?”
“Eddie—” Bev said.
“Just do as he says, Bev,” I told her, “It’ll be all right.”
We left the lounge and Lou said to me, “Take us out a back way,
Eddie. Come on. You know this place inside and out.”
I tried to think of a way to get Bev away from him, but he wouldn’t give me the time.
“If we run into somebody in security, or anything like that,” he told me, “I’m gonna start shootin’. You got that?”
“I got it.”
I led the way, deciding to use what was the least-traveled path in the casino. I took him down the hall leading to the stairs that went down to the Rat Pack’s steam room. Only instead of going down we continued on until we got to a back door. When I opened it and we stepped out we were in the parking lot behind the Sands. Terazzo looked around and, satisfied that we were alone, took out his gun.
“Right here, Lou?” I asked.
“It’s as good a place as any. Plenty of cars for me to grab.”
“You’d have to shoot us and then hot-wire one,” I said. “Why not just take my keys?”
“Nice try, hot shot, but I blew your car up, remember?”
Shit!
“Wait,” he said, looking at Bev. “Where’s your car?”
“It’s out here, but my keys are in my purse.”
“Where’s your purse?”
“In the lounge, behind the bar.”
“Fuck!”
“Lou—”
“Shut up,” he said. “I’m tryin’ ta think.”
Bev looked at me, biting her lower lip, and I winked with a lot more conviction than I felt.
“Okay, we’ll hot-wire a car and then I’ll take care of you two. Come on, I like that red one over there. Both of you, move.”
“Red?” I asked, as he pushed us along. “That’s kinda conspicuous, ain’t it, Lou?”
“Don’t matter,” he said. “I’m headin’ right outta town. Nobody’s gonna be lookin’ for me.”
“What about your bosses?” I asked. “They’re gonna be pissed when they find out what you did.”
“Whatta they care? Besides, they ain’t gonna find me, either. Stop.”
We stopped by a red Corvette.
“You’ve got expensive taste, Lou.”
“Look,” he said, “it ain’t even locked. I’ll bet some high roller left his key in it. Take a look.”
I peered into the car.
“No luck,” I said. “You’ll have to wire it.”
“And I’ll need both hands,” he said. “Nice try. You do it.”
“Me? I can’t hot-wire a car.”
“Didn’t I heard you say one time you were from Brooklyn?”
“That doesn’t mean I can steal a car.”
“I can.”
We both looked at Bev.
“What?” Terazzo asked.
“I can jack a car. I used to do it when I was in college.”
Terazzo grinned.
“My kinda girl.” He laughed. “Maybe I’ll take you with me, honey. How would you like that?”
“I’ll get the car started,” she said, “but to tell you the truth I’d rather you shoot me with him then take me with you.”
Terazzo lost his smile. Suddenly, he backhanded her across the face.
“Bitch! You’re all bitches. Don’t move, Eddie. Don’t be a hero.”
My muscles had tensed and I might have jumped him but he stuck the gun in my face.
“Open the door for the lady, Eddie,” he said. “She’ll get the car started, and then we’ll decide who gets a bullet first, you or her.”
I opened the door. Next thing I knew I heard Terazzo grunt. I turned and saw that a hand had come over his shoulder and grabbed his gun hand by the wrist. He was turned around abruptly and before he could react a fist crashed into his face. He went limp and as he slid to the ground the hand holding his wrist came away with the gun.
“I don’t know what this is about, pally,” Dean Martin said, “but I hate to see a lady get hit.”
BOOK: Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime
10.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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