You Make Me Feel So Dead (25 page)

‘Looks like it's over,' Frank said, standing up.

I was afraid Scaffazza was dead, figuring he was the main target, but he was sitting up with his hand clasped to his arm, blood streaming from between his fingers. Not unscathed, but not dead.

‘Mr G.?'

I turned, saw Jerry standing next to me.

‘You OK?' he asked.

I looked down at myself, took stock, and said, ‘Yeah, I seem to be. Elvis?'

The King stood up and waved. ‘I'm OK.'

I turned and looked at Roselli's guy.

‘You OK?'

‘Yeah'

He walked over to the bachelor party, checked out the bodies.

‘They're all dead.'

‘Frank?'

‘I'm OK.'

I righted our table, and a chair, and helped Scaffazza into it.

‘What the fuck!' he said.

‘Those guys must have been Reynolds' crew,' I said. I couldn't figure it any other way.

‘Amateurs,' Roselli's guy said, ‘so you're probably right'

‘What's your name?' I asked him.

‘Sal.'

‘Sal's got a point,' Jerry said. ‘They never should have sat together, shouldn't have been makin' that much noise.'

‘Did you guys drive here?' I asked Sal.

‘Yeah, we did.'

‘They must've followed you,' I said, ‘figured to kill Joey in Vegas – and you.'

‘Scumbags,' Sal said. ‘You're right, they never would've tried this in LA. Johnny would've had their nuts.'

‘OK,' I said, ‘everybody out.'

‘What?' Jerry said.

‘You've got to scram out of here before the cops get here.'

‘What about you?' Jerry asked.

‘I'm gonna stay,' I said. ‘I'm gonna try to pin Reynolds' death on these guys. Or at least prove that it could have been somebody other than Danny. For that I need to stay.'

‘I'm stayin', too,' Frank said.

‘Frank—'

‘I'm sure somebody recognized me,' he said. ‘The cops would come lookin' for me, anyway. I might as well face the music, now.'

‘OK,' I said, ‘but give your gun to Jerry.'

‘Good idea.' He handed it over.

‘Mr G.—'

‘If you stay, Jerry, they're gonna toss your ass in a cell because of your gun – and maybe for killin' some of these guys. You, too, Sal. Get out.'

‘Who you gonna say killed them?' Sal asked.

‘I don't know,' I said. ‘Me and Frank were sittin' here having a drink with our buddy Joey when suddenly two sets of guys started shooting. These guys ended up dead, and the other ones took off.'

Sal thought it over and said, ‘That could work.'

‘It better work,' I said. ‘Now get out. I think I hear sirens.'

‘What about me?' Scaffazza asked.

‘You're goin' to the hospital,' I said, ‘and after that, Chicago.'

‘What if they lock my ass up?'

‘I've got a good Jewish lawyer for you.'

T
he first car to respond brought two uniformed cops, one of whom was impressed with Frank.

The second vehicle to arrive was an ambulance, with two attendants, one of whom was impressed with Frank.

All the customers were gone, and the girls had gone home, so there were no witnesses. The club manager talked to the two cops, saying he wasn't sure which girls were on and which were off. It was going to take a while to put together the facts of who was there, let alone who saw what. It would fall to the detectives.

When the detectives arrived I was pleased to see that it was not Hargrove and his partner, Martin. However, that feeling didn't last for long. About fifteen minutes later, while Frank and I were being questioned and Scaffazza was being bandaged, Hargrove walked in with Martin trailing behind.

‘Well, well,' he said. ‘I knew when I heard Sinatra's name I was going to find you here, Eddie.' He looked around. ‘Come on, bullets flying all around? Where's the big guy?'

‘Who?'

‘Epstein.'

‘Jerry wasn't here.'

He pointed his finger at me.

‘If I find out you're lying—'

‘How are you gonna find that out?' I asked, cutting him off. ‘You don't even have any witnesses.'

Hargrove looked at the other detectives for confirmation. They just nodded and shrugged.

‘Don't go away,' he said to me and Frank. He grabbed one of the responding detectives by the arm and pulled him aside.

‘Wanna tell me what happened while my partner's distracted?' Martin asked.

‘Frank, Joey and me—'

‘Joey?'

‘Oh, this is our friend, Joey Scaffazza. Joey took a stray bullet.'

‘Uh-huh,' Martin said, ‘a stray bullet.' He folded his arms. ‘Keep going.'

I told him the story of being caught in the crossfire between two apparently warring factions.

Martin looked around, then turned back at me.

‘I can't wait to tell Hargrove this story,' he said, finally. ‘Wait here.'

‘These guys got it out for you?' Scaffazza asked.

‘One of them does, yeah.'

‘Not much changes city to city, huh?'

‘Nope, not much.'

‘They're gonna find out I'm from LA.'

‘There are a lot of people in Vegas from LA,' I said. ‘Doesn't mean a thing. Just stick to the story.'

‘Ya know, you're a stand-up guy,' Scaffazza said.

‘As long as you had nothing to do with shooting my friend, you'll be fine.'

‘I swear. Ask Sal. We wasn't even here.'

‘Well, just sit back and relax,' I said. ‘We're gonna be here a while.'

I knew Frank could make a phone call and leave. It was to his credit that he stuck it out with Scaffazza and me. We spent two hours there, and another three at the police station. Hargrove had us taken to his building, claiming the case was an extension of his murder investigation. Since it was going to take forever to collect the witnesses the other detectives did not argue.

They separated us to see if our stories would hold up.

Hargrove walked into the interrogation room and sat down across from me.

‘You wanna make a phone call, Eddie?' he asked. ‘Maybe to your buddy Robert Kennedy?'

‘We're not buddies,' I said. ‘Am I under arrest?'

‘Not at all.'

‘Then I don't need a phone call, do I?'

He questioned me for half an hour, trying to poke holes in my story. I denied, denied, denied any knowledge of what had happened in that club. I didn't know if the cops were going to be able to collect any witnesses. Certainly they wouldn't be able to reassemble the customers who were there. I would have been surprised if one of those guys didn't have a record. It was that kind of club. And the same went for the girls who worked there. There'd be no love lost between them and the cops. If they came up with one witness who would describe Jerry, or ‘Buzz,' or Sal it would be a miracle.

I stuck to my guns.

But in the end I called Kaminsky and he got us out. It was just taking too long. Oh, we all stuck to our stories. Or so I thought.

Kaminsky came in and said, ‘Come on, you and Frank are out.'

‘Me and Frank? What about Scaffazza?'

‘Your LA mafia buddy talked.'

‘What do you mean he talked?' I asked.

‘Come on, bubula,' Kaminsky said, ‘Kaminsky wants to get out of here.'

‘Yeah, well, Eddie G. wants an explanation.' I sat back down and folded my arms.

‘He confessed.'

‘To what?'

‘To working with Reynolds on Roselli's turf.'

‘So he's under arrest?'

‘No,' Kaminsky said, ‘he's in protective custody. Our other buddy Hargrove is going to try to use him to take down Roselli.'

‘What?' I said. ‘Roselli's big time. Hargrove is
not
big time.'

‘I know it and you know it. Hargrove, he don't know it. Anyway, they're dropping the charges against Danny. They now feel sure Reynolds' murder was a mafia hit, and Danny was the fall guy.'

‘What?' I was amazed. ‘How did they—'

‘What does it matter how?' Kaminsky asked. ‘Danny's my client, you're my client, for tonight even the Chairman of the Board is my client, and I got you all off.'

‘I want to talk to Joey.'

‘What, you made friends with this
schlimazel
in one night?'

‘We bonded over beer and boobs,' I said. ‘I want to talk to him.'

Kaminsky stared at me, frustrated, then said, ‘Wait.' He shook his head, muttered, ‘
Putz
,' and went out.

I
was given five minutes with Scaffazza. He was sitting in an interview room, his hands folded on the table in front of him, looking as calm as could be.

‘What are you doing?' I asked, even before I sat across from him.

‘It's better this way,' he said. ‘I'm safer in custody than I'd be in LA or Chicago. Or even here in Vegas.'

‘Who do you think is gonna come after you?' I asked. ‘If that was Reynolds' crew, they're all dead.'

‘Maybe,' he said, ‘but I can't trust Johnny, either. I think Sal was gonna kill me. Besides, this'll help you.'

‘Me? Why do you want to help me?'

‘You put your life on the line for your buddy,' he said. ‘You stayed behind to take the heat in that club when you didn't have to. And you didn't throw me to the wolves. I told you, you're a stand-up guy. This'll get you and your buddy off the hook.'

‘For now, maybe,' I said, ‘but Hargrove will keep coming.'

‘Well,' Scaffazza said, ‘maybe this will get him off your back for a while. It's the least I can do. You guys were gonna help me.'

‘Joey—'

‘Hey, listen,' he said, ‘this satisfies me. It should satisfy you. They droppin' the charges against your friend?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good.'

‘But I'm still wondering about his gun,' I said. ‘If the police are convinced his gun killed Reynolds, why would they let him go?'

‘Maybe,' Scaffazza said, ‘they faked that part of the evidence.'

‘You mean … they lied?'

Scaffazza shrugged. ‘They're cops, ain't they?'

‘But … you're trusting them.'

He shrugged. ‘Ya gotta trust somebody some time. As long as I can give them information about Roselli, they'll keep me alive.'

‘What about Giancana?'

‘I won't tell them anything about Giancana,' Scaffazza said, ‘Just Roselli.'

I stared at him for a few moments. He did look very satisfied with himself.

‘OK, Joey,' I said, ‘have it your way. Thanks.'

‘That's OK,' he said. ‘Maybe I'll come back to town some time. You can show me around.'

‘I'll do that,' I said. ‘You can bet on it.'

I knocked on the door to be let out.

Frank went back to the Sands. He'd had enough for one night.

‘I need one more favor,' I told him.

‘What is it?'

‘I need somebody in Chicago checked out. Do you know anyone?'

‘I got just the guy,' he said. ‘Gimme your guy's info.'

I wrote it out for him. We drove to the hospital, but he had a limo pick him up out front.

Kaminsky and I went inside. Penny was sitting in the waiting room. When she saw us she got to her feet.

‘How is he?' I asked.

‘Still asleep. What time is it?'

I looked at my watch.

‘Six a.m. I was supposed to bring you some food, but … things happened.'

‘It's OK.'

‘I'll get us all some breakfast,' Kaminsky said. ‘Be right back.'

I nodded, sat down with Penny.

‘How did your meeting go?' she asked.

‘Fine,' I said. ‘Danny's off the hook for the murder. They're dropping all charges.'

‘What? How? Why?'

‘They're goin' after somethin' bigger,' I said.

‘Well … that's wonderful.'

‘But I'm still confused about his gun,' I said. ‘Unless Hargrove lied – and he's a lot of things, but not a liar – then how do they have Danny's gun pegged as the murder weapon?'

‘And if they still do, why drop the charges? Eddie, maybe they were lying.'

‘I keep thinkin' about Danny's gym.'

‘His gym?'

‘We checked his locker,' I said. ‘That's what the extra key was for.'

‘What did you find?' she asked.

‘Just what you'd expect to find in a locker at a gym,' I said. ‘Nothing else. But what if he left his gun in his locker while he worked out and somebody took it?'

‘He doesn't usually do that.'

‘But what if he did it that day? Somebody could have taken it out, killed Billy, and put it back.'

‘Who?' she asked. ‘Do you know who did kill Billy?'

‘Not exactly,' I said, ‘but it could have been a hit man sent by Johnny Roselli.'

‘Why would he want to frame Danny?'

‘So nobody would think it was a hit.'

‘I don't know if Danny went to the gym that day.'

‘I'll ask him,' I said, ‘some time. You know, we talked to this deputy sheriff who works out with Danny—'

‘What? Who?'

‘A deputy sheriff named Brewster, Dwayne Brewster. He has the locker next to Danny's.'

‘Eddie,' she said, ‘Danny doesn't know any deputy named Brewster.'

‘We met him,' I said. ‘He said he worked out with Danny. Even took us to a juice bar where they sometimes get a drink afterwards.'

‘Do you hear what you're saying?' she asked. ‘Danny in a juice bar?'

She was right. The idea was ludicrous.

‘I checked his ID.'

‘They can be faked,' she said.

And then it hit me. Scaffazza's description of Roselli's hit man, Bonpensiero. It matched Brewster perfectly, right down to the gut.