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Authors: Robert J. Randisi

Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime (23 page)

BOOK: Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime
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I
FINALLY GOT to drink my bourbon, only this time I made it a double. To Bev’s credit she insisted on continuing her shift.
“If I go home I’ll just sit in a corner and shake,” she said. “But as scary as it was, at least I get to know that my life was saved by Dean Martin!”
That was looking on the bright side, all right.
Dean had come back from the Riviera after filming before the other guys. He spotted me with Bev and Lou Terazzo, started across the parking lot towards us, but increased his speed when he saw Lou smack Bev. He waited around long enough to hand the gun to a cop, then went to his suite, where he said he’d be available to make a statement. He told me to come up and see him when I was done.
True to his name, “Unlucky Lou” had picked the wrong day to come at me head-on, and was on his way to jail. I was nursing my bourbon, waiting for Detective Hargrove to come and question me for what I hoped was the last time. While I was sitting there Jerry came walking in.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked. “I seen cops outside.”
“Have a seat and a drink,” I said, “I’ll tell you all about it.”
By the time I finished he was staring morosely into his beer.
“You coulda got killed,” he said, “and it woulda been my fault.”
“First of all,” I said, “I’m not dead, and second of all, don’t try to take all the credit. I let him walk right up to me.”
“This was my job,” he said. “I’m the pro, not you.”
“Jerry,” I argued, “you did your job, kept me alive in that fleabag and got hauled in for it.” I picked up my glass and raised it to him. “Here’s to pros.”
He raised his glass, but still wasn’t completely satisfied.
“I guess I better check out and head back to New York.”
“Stay an extra day,” I said. “I’ll show you some of Vegas you didn’t get to see.”
“I s’pose I could stay one more night. I’ll just have to tell Frank—”
“I’ll arrange it with the hotel,” I said. “And come to the show tonight.”
“Frank said I should come whenever I wanted,” he told me. “So, okay. I’ll see the show. I heard they’re hilarious together.”
“They are.”
He drained his beer and said he’d see me later. On the way out he passed Danny, and the two men sized each other up.
“What’s goin’ on?” Danny asked, sliding onto a stool next to me. “Cops outside, and big Jer looks like somebody took the bullets out of his gun.”
“Have a drink,” I said, and I told him about it just as I had Jerry.
“Jesus,” he said, “Dean Martin saved your ass?”
“That he did,” I said, “and I’m very happy about it.”
“So the killer’s off the streets.”
“He confessed to me,” I said. “I’ll make a statement to Hargrove and that should be that. Now if I could just wrap up my original job …”
“I’ve got something for you on that.”
“From the employee list?”
“No. I’ve had my ears to the ground and something came up today.”
I put my drink down.
“Okay, give. If we could wrap both of these things up in one day I could go back to my pit, where nobody tries to kill me.”
“Yeah, they just wish you dead.”
“Danny …”
“I got somebody who saw your two dead goons, Ravisi and Davis, meet with a big man in a bar off the strip. Money changed hands.”
“So they lied about bein’ hired on the phone.”
“Maybe,” he said, “and maybe they were payin’ off a gamblin’ debt.”
“You don’t have a better description of the man they met with?”
“Big guy, expensive suit, wide shoulders. Could be Big Jer, except for the suit. His is more off-the-rack Robert Hall.”
“No, not Jerry.”
“Well, whoever he is, he’s your insider.”
“Then find me somebody on that list you got from Marcia who matches the description.”
“Sure,” he said, sarcastically, “that’ll take no time at all.”
“I’m gonna go up and talk to Dean.”
“Take me with you.”
“You’ll meet him tonight. Besides, I gotta thank him for helpin’ me out when I’m supposed to be helpin’ him. It’ll be a little embarrassin’.”
“Hey, one more thing,” he said, as we headed out. “My man says this big guy in the bar was always holdin’ his head, you know? Like he was in pain all the time?”
We walked out of the lounge together then went our separate ways. I told him I’d see him at the show. His last comment to me had given me the answer I needed. Now I had to decide what to do with it.
 
 
Mack Gray opened the door to Dean’s suite. He was still wearing a dark suit and white shirt, like the first day I met him. In fact, it could have been the very same suit. He also still had that pained expression on his face I’d come to know.
“The Boss is gettin’ changed,” he said, letting me in. “You wanna drink?”
I stared at him for a few seconds and he had to ask me again.
“Huh? Oh yeah, sure. Bourbon, rocks.”
We walked to the bar together. He went around behind it and I sat on a stool. While he got my drink I went over it in my head and it fit. I was basing it on some pretty skimpy evidence, but there was only one way to find out for sure.
Ask.
N
OT HAVIN’ ONE?” I asked when he pushed my drink over to me.
“No.”
I sipped it.
“Let’s cut to the chase, Mack,” I said. “I figure you did it because you wanted Dean to need you a little more. Maybe he doesn’t depend on you so much after eight years, or maybe just not as much as Mr. Raft did.”
He didn’t answer, didn’t look at me, but I thought I saw his shoulders hunch.
“Or maybe,” I said, “you’re afraid he’s gonna ship you off to someone else the way Raft did.”
“The Boss didn’t have a choice,” Mack said. “He was broke. I told him I’d stay with him for nothin’, but he said no. So I ended up workin’ for Mr. Martin.”
“And he became your boss.”
“Yeah.”
“But you’re still loyal to Raft?”
He glared at me, now.
“I’m loyal to both of them,” he said. “They’re great guys.”
I stared at Mack. He must’ve been about fifty-four then. Moving
on would not have been a very good option for him. Starting over somewhere else.
“So you sent the notes.”
His jaw tightened and for a moment I thought he’d either ignore me or slug me. Instead, he turned, poured himself some scotch, then pulled a pill bottle from his pocket and took two. Percodan.
“Somebody saw you with Ravisi and Davis, Mack,” I said. “Big guy in a dark suit, always holdin’ his head like it hurt. That’s you.”
He looked down at the vial of Percordan in his hand, as if it had betrayed him. I continued.
“It only occurred to me later that while Frank referred to the notes as death threats, they never really said anything about dying. Even in a note you couldn’t bring yourself to threaten Dean in that way.”
“I sent one,” he said. “I thought that would do it, but he never mentioned it. Then I sent another. He still didn’t mention it—to me. Pretty soon I found out he was talkin’ to Mr. Sinatra, and then to you.”
“So when I came into the picture you stopped sendin’ the notes.”
“They weren’t doin’ no good, so yeah, I stopped,” he said. “I didn’t mean ta threaten the shootin’ schedule. I wasn’t trying ta force the boss into hidin’. I was just … I don’t know what I was doin’.”
“And then you hired Ravisi and Davis to scare me off.”
This time Mack looked away.
“I never meant you no harm, Eddie,” he said. “That’s all they were supposed to do, scare ya. They wasn’t supposed to hurt ya.”
“Well,” I said, “they did that.”
I decided not to tell Mack that he was responsible for the two hoods getting killed. I figured they were no loss to anybody, anyway.
He drank down half his drink while I sipped some more of mine.
“So I guess you’re gonna turn me in now, huh? Tell the boss it was me?”
“What good would that do?”
“What?”
“He’d probably fire you.”
“Naw—well, yeah … yeah, I guess he might.”
“I don’t want you to get fired, Mack.”
He looked at me with surprise etched on his face.
“You ain’t gonna tell him? Gee, thanks, Eddie.”
“Maybe you should, at some point, but I’m not gonna. The important thing is that the threatening notes have stopped, right?”
“Definitely,” he said. “No more notes.”
“If you want Dino to depend more on you, find another way, okay?”
“Okay. You got it.”
Suddenly, we heard Dino’s footsteps coming down the hall.
“What are you gonna tell ’im?” Mack asked, lowering his voice.
“I’m gonna wing it,” I said, quickly. “Just go along with me.”
He nodded and we both turned and tried to look as innocent as newborn babes as Dino entered the room, shaking his right hand.
“It’s been a few years since I hit somebody for real,” he said to us. “Had to soak my hand for a while.”
“You want ice, boss?” Mack asked.
“No, Mack, that’s okay,” Dean said. “I could use a drink, though.”
“Comin’ up, boss.”
“Just one before the show,” he said, approaching the bar. “So Eddie, what happened down there after I left.”
“The guy you hit was Lou Terazzo,” I said. “He killed his girlfriend and her roommate, both showgirls at the Riv. He also killed a guy named Mike Borraco, who worked with him there.”
“Was it a sex thing?” Dean asked, accepting a glass of amber liquid from Mack. I hadn’t watched him pour it, but I assumed it was bourbon.
“Yeah,” I said, “sort of a triangle, and the roommate got caught in the fallout. But here’s the weird part.”
“Tell me,” he said, still flexing the fingers of his right hand, “I like weird.”
“Lou Terazzo was the guy sendin’ you the threats.”
“Why? What’d I ever do to him?”
“He fancied himself a ladies man, modeled himself after you, even thought he could,” I lied. “When he realized he was none of those things, he snapped.”
“Are you kiddin’ me?” Dean looked delighted. “You mean I got him myself?”
“Guess you didn’t need me after all, Dean,” I said. “Fact is, you saved me.”
“Hey, hey,” Dean said, “don’t sell yourself short, pally. You worked your ass off on this. I’m not gonna forget it.” He turned to look at Mack. “Ain’t that right, Killer?”
That was Mack’s nickname from the days when he was a fight manager, before hooking up with George Raft.
“That’s right, boss,” Mack said. “His ass.”
“So no more notes,” Dean said. “That’s good. And the guy’s in the slammer.”
“For a long time,” I added.
“I’ll have to tell Frank,” Dean said. “He was worried, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” I put my glass on the bar and got down from my stool. “Guess I’ll be back on the clock now. If you want to deal any blackjack the rest of the time you’re here, let me know.”
I took it easy on his sore right hand as we shook.
“You really did save my bacon out there today, Dean,” I said. “Not to mention Bev’s. Thank you.”
“We’re even, Eddie,” Dean said. “That’s the way I see it.”
“Okay.”
He walked me to the door with his arm around me.
“You comin’ to the show tonight? There’s somebody I want you to meet.”
“Milton Berle’s comin’ tonight,” Mack said. “And Mr. Sinatra’s new girl.”
“New girl?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Dean said, “we won’t be seein’ Judith around tonight. Juliet Prowse is coming. Gorgeous dancer. What a pair of gams!”
“Sounds like I shouldn’t miss it,” I replied. “I’ll be there.”
“Come back stage after and I’ll introduce you around.” He squeezed my shoulder when he said that, and then released me so I could go out the door. I found it an oddly touching gesture, like he was saying we were friends now.
Las Vegas
November 26, 1996
2:26 A.M.
 
 
 
Y
OU OKAY, Eddie?”
I opened my eyes and looked around. I was the center of attention, a circle of people standing around me, looking down at me with worried or curious looks on their faces.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Where the hell am I?”
Sheldon Adelson said, “You passed out. We called an ambulance. You’re lyin’ on a gurney.”
“Well, get me off,” I demanded. “I’m fine.”
Actually, I was better than fine. All that Rat Pack stuff had passed through my head while I was out—was it seconds? Minutes? Whatever it was I appreciated it. I would much rather have those memories of the Sands than any from the implosion tonight.
“Come on, somebody help me up!” I demanded.
Sheldon and Wayne Newton stepped forward and helped me sit up and get off the gurney. I looked at Wayne and could still see the fresh-faced kid in there who came to Vegas so many years ago. He patted me on the back affectionately and turned to leave. I knew he had his own memories of the Sands.
I looked at my watch. I’d been out about twenty minutes.
“You want me to take you home, Eddie?” Sheldon asked.
“I’ve got my car, Shelly,” I said. “Don’t worry about me. It was just … you know, the dust and … everything …”
“Yeah, I know, Eddie,” Sheldon said, “I know.”
The crowd was starting to disperse and I decided to get to my car and turn on the air-conditioning. I was still feeling kinda woozy, but I didn’t want anyone to know.
I reached my Coupe Deville and got inside. I still liked Caddies. I started the engine, turned up the AC and put my head back. For one more moment I was back in the Copa Room at the Sands in 1960. Frank, Dino and the guys would leave Vegas on February 18th and head to Hollywood to finish shooting Ocean’s 11 there. The movie would be a big hit, and the guys would go on to make a few more—except for Peter Lawford. After Kennedy got elected he’d snubbed Frank and never let him come to the White House. Oddly enough, Frank never blamed JFK. He blamed Peter, and after 1962 the two never spoke again. I didn’t like Peter much, but I thought he got a raw deal from Frank.
But that night in the Copa Room in 1960 the show went great. I saw Danny and Marcia enjoying it from their front seats, and I hoped the two would get along. But I didn’t expect much, because Danny was a ladies’ man and not ready to settle down. They had a ball, though, especially when they went backstage and met Frank and the guys.
While we were all backstage Dean came over to me and clapped me on the back again.
“Glad you made it, Eddie. Come on, I wanna introduce you to somebody.”
I had already shaken hands with Milton Berle, and Frank had introduced me—briefly—to the beautiful Juliet Prowse, so I didn’t know who Dean was taking me to meet.
But even now, thirty-six years later, I smiled in my Caddy as I remembered Dean Martin walking me up to a vision of loveliness, the owner of the best legs in Hollywood, and saying to me, “Eddie, I’d like you to meet Angie Dickinson.”
BOOK: Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime
9.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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