Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand) (4 page)

“I almost got killed.”

“But you didn’t,” Frank said. “You came out on top, because that’s what you do.”

“Frank,” Sammy said, “you’re not forcing Eddie—”

I broke in before Frank could.

“He’s not forcing me into anything, Sam,” I said. “When I try to help you it’s because I want to. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sammy said.

“Sure it’s okay,” Frank said, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on Sammy’s. “We’re all friends here, and friends help each other, right?”

Sammy and I agreed.

On our way out of the restaurant a husband and wife approached Sammy and Frank for an autograph. I had seen many demonstrations of the famed “Sinatra charm.” In fact, I’d been subjected to it many times, but I had only had a glimpse—maybe even a glimmer—of the “Sinatra temper.” As the couple approached us I was wondering if I was going to witness it, but instead both Frank and Sammy were charming and gracious and signed the autographs.

In the hotel lobby Frank gave Sammy another bone-crushing hug. I shook hands with Sammy and told him to call me as soon as he knew something.

“If I leave the Cal Neva, or Tahoe, I’ll let you know where to find me.”

“That’s cool, Eddie,” Sammy said. “Thanks.”

Frank and I walked back outside to his car and Henry started back to the Cal Neva.

“Look at this place,” Frank said. “First Harvey Gross opened his Wagon Wheel, then Bill Harrah came in and opened his place. For a few years there was a few casinos and ski lodges. Then last year the Winter Olympics came here, and now look at it. There’s been an explosion here, Eddie. Now if your business is skiing or gambling you can come here and get a license to print your own money. It’s a gold mine, and it’s only gonna keep gettin’ bigger.”

He turned his head and looked at me.

“Do you know you can literally park in California and gamble in Nevada? We’re actually in a place called Stateline, Nevada, although it’s not considered a city, or even a town.” He shook his head. “I can’t figure out if this place is gonna eventually be overrun by gamblers, or skiers.”

“I vote gamblers,” I said.

“Why?”

“There’s no gambling season.”

Frank laughed and said, “That’s a good point, Eddie.”

Frank dropped me at my cabin and put his hand on my arm before I could get out of the car.

“I have to leave tomorrow,” Frank said, “but I’ll be back at the end of the week. I’ve got to talk to some architects.”

“If I want to head back tomorrow? …”

“I’ll leave the copter, and the pilot’s phone number. Also, Henry will be here, in one of the cabins. Henry?”

“Cabin thirty, Mr. Sinatra.”

“You’ve got my number in Palm Springs, right?” Frank asked me.

I had it. I’d never used it up to that point, but it was written in my phone book.

“Yes.”

“Good, call me if anything comes up, otherwise I’ll talk to you or Sammy at the end of the week.”

“Gotcha.”

“Look, Eddie, Sammy may only want you to be a go-between, but be careful. More than likely nothin’ll go wrong, but …”

“If I learned anything last year, Frank, it’s to be careful.”

We shook hands and I said, “I’ll see you, Frank.”

“See ya, pally. Hang onto that key. Cabin’s yours whenever you want it.”

I got out and as I mounted the steps Henry pulled away. When I got to my door I saw a white envelope pinned to it.

I knew that already something had gone wrong.

I
DROPPED THE NOTE
on the table and said to Sammy, “This isn’t right.”

Sammy picked up the note, unfolded it and read it.

“How did they know?” he asked.

“That’s my question.”

He looked at it again then put it down.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “Only you, me and Frank knew you were going to help.”

“And I only agreed yesterday,” I said.

“I should call Frank—” he said, starting for the phone.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we can control this,” I said. “Only you and I know about this. Let’s keep it that way.”

“But … we can trust Frank.”

“Sammy who did you tell about this?”

“Only Frank.”

“Nobody else?”

“I told you that yesterday,” he said. “Only Frank.”

“And we can trust Frank, right?”

“I thought … I thought we—” Sammy looked confused, then distressed.

“I’m not saying Frank gave it away,” I told him, “not deliberately, anyway.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“There’s the driver, the copter pilot, his man George,” I said, ticking them off on my fingers. “Who knows how many other people were around when he said something on the phone—”

“To who?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe Dean. I’m just making a point for us to keep this between ourselves. We can tell Frank that you were contacted, got a note with instructions. Just not where … not yet.”

“Okay,” he said, backing away from the phone. “So now what do we do?”

I walked to the table and picked up the note. Instructions were neatly typed.

“The meeting place is in Vegas,” I said, “so the first thing I have to do is go back. Can you get your hands on this much money?”

“I can arrange for you to pick it up from a bank in Vegas. I can have Silber call—”

“Can you do it yourself, Sam?”

“You mean I can’t even trust—”

“Just you and me for now, Sammy. Okay?”

“Well, okay,” he said. “I’ll make the call.”

“I’ll get Henry to take me to the helipad,” I said. “Today’s Tuesday and the meeting is set for Thursday. I want to get set up.”

“Set up … how?”

“Well,” I said, “all of a sudden I don’t think I want to do this alone.”

“But you just said, only you and me—”

“I know, but I think I have just the man for the job, and I’d only have to tell him so much.”

“Who?”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I think I’ll keep that little tidbit of information to myself.”

I turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Vegas,” I said. “I’ve got some arrangements to make, and a call. How long are you booked here for?”

“Until the end of next week.”

“Good. I’ll call you from Vegas.”

“Call me when you get there,” Sammy said. “And before you go to the meeting—and after.”

“Sammy, relax,” I said. “Concentrate on your shows. I’ll take care of this.”

“Eddie, wait,” Sammy shouted as I opened the door.

He came up to me and said, “You’re gonna have to look at the picture when you pay for it.”

“That’s right,” I said. “How will I know it’s the right one unless you tell me?”

“You’ll know,” Sammy said. “Just—yeah, you’ll know when you see it. Just promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t show it to anyone else,” he said. “Not anyone, under any circumstances, understand?”

“I understand, Sammy.”

“Give me your word.”

“I promise,” I said. “No one sees that photo except me.”

“Thanks, man,” Sammy said. “You’re solid.”

“I’ll talk to you, soon.”

I went back to Henry and the car, waiting for me outside of Harrah’s.

“Henry,” I asked, “can you call the copter pilot and take me to the helipad? I want to get back to Vegas right away.”

“We’ll have to stop back at the Cal Neva, sir.”

“You can call him from there?”

“He’s also in one of the cabins. We’ll just pick him up.”

“Good man.”

I sat back in the seat, took out the note and studied it again. The meet was set for a neighborhood that wasn’t normally one I’d go to alone. Since somebody already knew I was the go-between, that just added to my trepidation about doing this alone.

Normally, I would have called my buddy Danny Bardini, a Las

Vegas private eye with an office on Fremont Street, but I knew Danny was out of town on a case. That left me with only one other option, one other person I felt I could trust.

I only hoped he’d be able to get to Vegas from New York on such short notice.

A
LL DURING THE DRIVE
to the helipad, and then the flight to Vegas, I kept wondering if either Henry or the copter pilot—“Skip”— had anything to do with the word leaking out? Then I had to wonder how much damage the leak might have done. Maybe Sammy should have switched to someone else, but it was too late to do anything about it.

When I got back to my house in Vegas I took a few minutes to shower and get a beer from the refrigerator. Then I sat down in my living room and made the phone call. I had to look the number up, because this was the first time I’d ever dialed it.

“Yeah?” the voice at the other end asked.

“Jerry?”

A pause, then, “Who wants ta know?”

“It’s Eddie, Jerry,” I said. “Eddie Gianelli, from Vegas.”

“Hey, Mr. G.!” His tone changed completely. “Whataya say?”

I didn’t know what to say. Exchange pleasantries with my friend, the Brooklyn hood? Or just tell him I needed his help? Wasn’t I doing to him what I once thought Frank and Dino were doing to me? Just using me when it was convenient?

“How you doin’, Jerry?”

“Good, Mr. G., good. How’s the Caddy?”

“Safe and sound, buddy.”

“I love drivin’ that car, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do know, Jerry,” I said. “How’d you like to drive it again?”

“Sure. When?”

“How’s tomorrow?”

Now there was a long pause.

“Whataya sayin’, Mr. G.? Ya need my help?”

“I guess that’s what I’m sayin’, Jerry,” I admitted. “I’ve got a situation, here.”

“This have to do with Mr. S.?”

“Yeah, it does, kind of.”

“Tell me about it.”

So I did. I told him everything except where we found the note with the instructions and what Sammy was buying. Actually, that second one wasn’t hard, because I didn’t really know what Sammy was buying.

“Sounds like there’s a fink somewheres,” Jerry said.

“That’s what I was thinkin’,” I said. “I was gonna ask Danny to go with me, but he’s out of town—”

“You don’t need the keyhole peeper, Mr. G.,” Jerry said, “ya got me. When does this exchange gotta take place?”

“Thursday night,” I said. “Can you get here by Thursday?”

“Mr. G.,” Jerry said, “that’s me on the next plane ta Vegas….”

I called work and did a late shift in the pit at the Sands. I thought I was too late to see Jack Entratter, but in he walked just a little after midnight. Jack didn’t usually stop to talk to individual pit bosses, but he and I had kind of a different relationship—especially since I’d started doing favors for Frank, Dean and the guys. And after the most recent one, last year, I think even MoMo Giancana ended up kind of liking me.

So if Frank and MoMo liked me, I was in even more with Jack.

“Hey, kid,” he said, “I heard you were back.” He meant back in the pit, not back in Vegas. He already knew that.

“Can’t stay away,” I said. “Oh, by the way, I’ll need Thursday off.”

“This got anything to do with Sammy?” he asked. “Yes.”

When I didn’t go any further he said, “Ah hell, okay. I’ll get somebody to fill in for you.”

“Thanks.”

He walked away, then turned and said, “You’re not gonna find any bodies this time, are you?”

“I hope not.”

He gave me the eye. “That doesn’t sound very encouraging.”

“Oh, I’ll need a room tomorrow.”

“For who?”

“A friend of mine.”

“You want a free room you’re gonna have to tell me more than that.”

“Jerry,” I said.

“Lewis?” he asked, hopefully?

“Epstein.”

“Him? Why’s he comin’ here?”

“I asked him to.”

He walked back to me.

“Are you expecting trouble?”

“I … just want to make sure if there is trouble I’ll be ready.”

“And you wouldn’t be ready alone?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “The last time … I’m not a detective, you know. Or a made guy. I don’t carry a gun.”

“Why would you need a gun?” he demanded. “What are you not tellin’ me, Eddie?”

“Jack,” I said, “I’ve told you all I can. I just want Jerry here for a little backup. Can I have a room?”

“Hell, kid, sure,” he said. “It’s just that guy—”

“What about him?”

“Trouble follows him.”

“I don’t see where he can be blamed for anything that happened in the past,” I argued.

“Okay, then,” Jack said, “it’s the combination of you two. Trouble finds the two of you.”

“That’s not fair, either.”

“Just watch your step,” he said, “and your back. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll see you around,” Jack said, and stalked off. He wasn’t mad, he just always seemed to be stalking when he walked. Then again he always seemed kind of mad. It was probably because he was managing so many aspects of the Sands operation that he was always preoccupied with something.

I finished up my shift at 2
A.M
. Normally I would’ve stayed ’til dawn, had breakfast and then gone home, but I had to be up early to pick Jerry up at the airport. I knew I’d have to get him settled in at the hotel, and then take him somewhere to satisfy what was the most prodigious appetite I’d ever run across—and in my thirteen years in Vegas I had seen a lot of appetites.

I satisfied my own appetite in the coffee shop before heading home to bed.

I
ALMOST PULLED A MUSCLE
trying to lift Jerry’s single suitcase when we claimed it from the baggage check. He had told me he had only one bag because he “liked to travel light,” but there was nothing light about it. Or small. But then there was nothing small about Jerry, either.

He was wearing lightweight gray slacks and a short-sleeved striped t-shirt that struggled to cover his torso and biceps. He was a big, thick, powerfully built man who might eventually go to fat with age. I figured with that thick center of gravity he had, he was probably more powerful than any muscle-bound bodybuilder.

“I’ll take it, Mr. G.,” he said, grabbing the suitcase one-handed from my two-handed grip and holding it easily.

Back then the McCarran Airport was one terminal, not much of a walk to the parking lot. People were rushing by us, though, to cars and cabs, in a hurry to get to a casino, and Jerry shook his head.