The Way You Die Tonight

by Robert Randisi

  ‘Are you staying here?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, I got a room.’ But I knew he wasn’t performing at the Sands. He was doing a stint in the lounge at the Riviera, up the strip.

  ‘I’ll have the tickets held for you.’

  ‘I won’t need to have ’em in my hand?’

  ‘They’ll be at the box office for you,’ I promised. ‘Guaranteed.’

  He took my hand, pumped it enthusiastically and exclaimed, ‘Thanks, Eddie. Thanks a lot. Frank’s right. He always says you’re the man.’

  As he went out the door, I thought, Oh yeah, that’s me. I’m the man.

  ‘Can you bring me a phone?’ I asked the bartender.

  After I made the call I had two more people approach me to arrange something for them. One player wanted dinner at the Sahara, and another wanted an increase in his credit limit, even though he wasn’t playing in my pit. I accomplished both with a phone call.

  By the time I was finished I was thinking that maybe Jack was right. Maybe I needed to come out of the pit and be some kind of … casino host. When I first met Frank and Dean, I had some contacts in Vegas. But during the intervening years, with people realizing that I had their ear, I became even more well known. I could pretty much get people what they needed with a well-placed call.

  Casino host. A new job. Maybe even with a raise, if I could play Jack right.

  I was giving the phone back to the bartender when it rang. He answered it, then held it out to me.

  ‘Mr Entratter, for you.’

  ‘Somebody told me you were down there,’ Jack growled. ‘What the hell are you doin’, takin’ it easy?’

  ‘No, I’m—’

  ‘Eddie Robinson is in his suite,’ Jack said. ‘He’s waitin’ for you.’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, and slammed down the receiver.

  I got out of there before somebody else came to me with a problem or a request.

  FIFTEEN

  I knocked on the door of Edward G. Robinson’s suite. The last time I felt this nervous was when I met George Raft a few years back.

  The door was opened by a young woman in a business suit that did nothing to hide her curves. Not showgirl curves, but enough. The color of the suit was green, which worked well with her red hair. It was long, but at the moment was gathered into a bun at the nape of her neck. I imagined her removing the pin and shaking it out when she got home at night.

  ‘Yes?’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’ I realized she’d been waiting for me to say something.

  ‘My name’s Eddie Gianelli,’ I said. ‘I’m here to see Mr Robinson.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, with just a slight widening of her green eyes, ‘Eddie G., right?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Well, come in,’ she said, backing up a bit. ‘Mr Robinson is waiting for you.’

  ‘Sorry if I’m late,’ I said, entering. I closed the door behind me. Robinson had the same kind of suite the Sands supplied for their top performers.

  She stuck her hand out for me to shake. I guessed her to be about twenty-eight.

  ‘My name is Gloria Benjamin,’ she said. ‘I work for the studio.’

  ‘Hello. Are you a … chaperone?’

  ‘I hardly think Mr Robinson needs a chaperone,’ she said. ‘He’s a lovely old gentleman.’ She suddenly turned and looked behind her, as if to be sure he hadn’t heard her description of him.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘he’s not there.’

  ‘He’s in the bedroom, unpacking,’ she said. ‘He insists on doing his own unpacking.’

  She was a very serious young woman, probably charged with seeing that the movie star stayed happy.

  At that moment the man himself came walking into the room, wiping his hands on a towel. He was in shirtsleeves and grey suit pants.

  ‘Well, hello,’ he said. ‘Are you the famous Eddie G.?’

  ‘I’m Eddie G.,’ I said, ‘but in your presence, Mr Robinson I’d hardly call myself famous.’

  He finished drying his hands and then extended his right to me. I shook it. I knew he was over seventy, but he had a nice firm grip.

  ‘Honey, can you give me and Eddie G., here, some time together? Go check out your room.’

  ‘All right, sir, but you have that interview later today …’

  ‘I’ll be ready,’ he said. ‘You come and get me and I’ll be ready.’

  ‘All right, Mr Robinson.’ She turned to me. ‘Goodbye, Mr Gianelli.’

  ‘Goodbye, Miss Benjamin,’ I said. ‘I hope I see you again.’

  Robinson opened the door for her and then closed it behind her.

  ‘A lovely girl,’ he said, ‘she’s just a bit …’

  ‘Intense?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Intense. How about a drink?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a little early for me.’

  ‘Me, too,’ he said. ‘Can we get some coffee sent up?’

  ‘Sure, I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘I’ll just finish cleaning up,’ he said. He started for the bedroom, then turned and said, ‘We’re going to have to come up with something to call each other, since we’re both Eddie.’

  ‘And we’re both Eddie G.,’ I added.

  He laughed and went into the bedroom. I called for the coffee and told them to rush it. It was there by the time Robinson came out. He’d changed into a fresh shirt and pair of pants. He had chin whiskers, but I wasn’t sure if he was growing some kind of beard or just hadn’t had a shave.

  ‘Wow,’ he said, ‘I’ve never gotten room service that fast before.’

  ‘You’ve never stayed at the Sands before.’

  The tray with coffee and cups was on the table in front of the sofa. We both sat in front of it and I poured out two cups.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you were hungry,’ I said.

  ‘I am,’ he admitted, ‘but I’d rather go out and eat. Can we arrange that?’

  ‘We can.’

  ‘Without the intense Miss Benjamin?’

  ‘I’ll bet we can sneak out.’

  ‘Frank told you why I’m here?’

  ‘I heard from Jack Entratter,’ I said. ‘Frank will be here later today.’

  ‘I’m supposed to play this legendary poker player opposite Steve McQueen in the film The Cincinnati Kid. Those are the kind of roles I get now … old.’ He touched his chin. ‘I’m trying to grow a goatee to see if it makes me look rakish.’

  ‘I’m sure it will, sir.’

  ‘Oh, no, don’t call me sir, Eddie,’ he said. ‘Say, why don’t you just call me Eddie, and I’ll call you Eddie G. How’s that? Or you could call me … Manny.’

  ‘Manny?’

  ‘My real name is Emmanuel.’

  ‘I think I’ll go with Eddie, si – I mean, Eddie.’

  ‘OK, Eddie G.,’ he said. ‘How about some lunch?’

  ‘Where would you like to go?’ I asked. ‘There are several really good places off the strip.’

  His bushy eyebrows went up.

  ‘Why would I want to eat off the strip?’ he asked. ‘Let’s eat somewhere in the building, to start. I want to see the Sands.’

  ‘Well, I can certainly show it to you, Eddie.’

  He smiled, and damned if he didn’t look a bit rakish.

  SIXTEEN

  I took Edward G. Robinson to the Garden Room. I asked the waitress for a particular booth. It was one I knew could not be seen from the door. I didn’t want people bothering Robinson for his autograph while he was eating.

  We ordered and Robinson told me about his role as Lancey ‘the man’ Howard. Set during the Depression, the film featured Steve McQueen as the young poker player trying to beat the best, who was Lancey Howard.

  ‘So you’re Minnesota Fats,’ I said.

  He pointed at me and smiled. When he did that his eyes twinkled.

  ‘That’s what I equated it to,’ he said. ‘It’s the poker version of The Hustler. My role was supposed to be played
by Spence Tracy, but he had to bow out because of his health. When they offered it to me I jumped at it.’

  ‘Where’d the story come from?’

  ‘A novel by a writer named Richard Jessup. The book came out in 1963.’

  ‘Did you read it?’

  ‘I did,’ Robinson said. ‘I enjoyed it, and I really enjoyed the script. I’m going to have fun playing this character, but I need some practical experience playing the game.’

  ‘Have you ever played poker before?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh yes, I have, but not the way the men in the book played it. I need to adapt that outlook of the game. You know, that the game is everything.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘you’ll sure as hell get that feeling here.’

  A waitress named Nell came over and her eyes widened when she saw Robinson. Working in Vegas you come across a lot of celebrities, but Edward G. Robinson was a bona fide movie star, and a legend, to boot.

  ‘Hi, Eddie,’ she said, but she was looking at him.

  ‘Hey, Nell,’ I said. ‘Meet Mr Edward G. Robinson. Eddie, this is Nell.’

  ‘Well,’ Robinson said, ‘I’ve certainly heard about Las Vegas’ beautiful women.’

  ‘Oh,’ Nell – who was very pretty – said, ‘those are the showgirls, Mr Robinson, not the waitresses.’

  ‘You mean the showgirls are prettier than you?’ he asked. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  The old charmer had her blushing. Because he didn’t want a huge lunch – he was looking forward to going out to dinner later – we ordered, on my recommendation, turkey sandwiches and French fries. I had mine on white, and he had rye. We both had iced tea.

  ‘I’ll get that right out,’ she said, and flounced away. She had probably been on her feet since the early breakfast rush, but suddenly she had new spring in her step.

  Robinson sat back and smiled at me. He looked pleased about something.

  ‘Eddie G.,’ he said. ‘You now –’ he pointed his finger at me and closed one eye – ‘you’re the legend in this town.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘they call me a legend, so I guess that qualifies me to make the judgment. I’ve heard all about you from Frank and Dino – especially Frank. They value your friendship.’

  ‘And I value theirs,’ I said. ‘Now they’re the Vegas legends, not me.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, waving a hand, ‘on the stage, of course it’s them, but in town – in the casino and on the streets – it’s you, my friend. I’m quite pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Well …’ I said, surprised at how embarrassed I felt, ‘I appreciate it.’ Was the old gent trying to charm me the way he had charmed Nell?

  ‘Frank said something about us all having dinner together tonight,’ he went on.

  ‘I can arrange that. Frank should be in his suite in a couple of hours.’

  ‘Then we have time to eat our lunch at our leisure,’ he said.

  I started to say yes, but Nell suddenly appeared with a phone.

  ‘It’s for you, Eddie,’ she said. ‘Mr Entratter.’

  She plugged it in beneath the table and I grabbed the receiver.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said to Robinson. ‘Jack?’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘At lunch with Eddie,’ I said.

  ‘Ain’t that gonna get confusing?’ he asked. ‘Callin’ him Eddie?’

  ‘He’s Eddie, I’m Eddie G.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ he said.

  ‘What’s got you so happy?’ I asked

  ‘I heard from your friend Hargrove.’

  ‘Already?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘He’s callin’ Helen’s death a suicide.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yeah, oh,’ he said. ‘The man’s an idiot. Look, Eddie, I need you to see to Eddie while he’s here, but I also need you to do what you can to find out what happened to Helen.’

  ‘I understand, Jack.’

  ‘I know I’m puttin’ pressure on you, but I’m gonna make it worth your while. You know that new job we talked about?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, think about it,’ he said. ‘We’ll structure it any way you want. You want out of your pit? You got it. You wanna spend some time in the pit, OK.’

  ‘This host thing, Jack,’ I said, ‘you’d be sort of inventing a new job, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ he said, sourly. ‘Listen, go ahead and use that PI buddy of yours, if you want.’

  ‘Will you pay him?’

  ‘Yeah, whatever his fee is,’ Jack sad. ‘Eddie, I want the answers, here. Maybe you didn’t like Helen, but she was a good kid.’

  ‘Hey,’ I said, ‘she’s the one who didn’t like m—’ but he’d hung up on me.

  I hung up and Eddie asked, ‘Trouble?’

  ‘Nothing you have to worry about, Eddie,’ I assured him.

  ‘Well, we can talk about it, can’t we?’ he asked. ‘While we eat?’

  I thought a moment, then said, ‘Yeah, sure, why not?’

  Nell came with the iced teas and asked, ‘You done with the phone, Eddie?’

  ‘No,’ I said, making a sudden decision. ‘While I’ve got it here I’m gonna make a call.’

  ‘OK,’ she said, ‘let me know.’

  ‘Excuse me one more time?’ I asked Robinson. ‘And then I’ll explain everything.’

  He took a sip of his tea and said, ‘Go ahead, don’t let me stop you. I’ll enjoy watching the legend at work.’ There was no hint of humor in his remark. He meant it.

  I dialed a long distance number and when it was answered, I said, ‘Hey, Jerry, how’d you like to meet Edward G. Robinson?’

  ‘I’ll be on the next plane, Mr G.’

  SEVENTEEN

  Over our sandwiches I told Robinson what had been happening.

  ‘The poor woman,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘Jack finds it hard to believe she committed suicide,’ I said. ‘I do, too, having witnessed the scene myself.’

  ‘It’s a terrible thing, either way,’ he commented. ‘What did you see that leads you to believe it’s murder?’

  ‘Two things,’ I said. ‘One, the only way she could have hung herself was to stand on a sink – only the sink was too far away. And two, you need a key to get into the ladies’ room, and she didn’t have one on her.’

  ‘Could it have been on the floor?’ Robinson asked.

  ‘I looked,’ I said. ‘It was nowhere in the room.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Robinson said, ‘it was flushed down the toilet or washed down the sink drain.’

  ‘Why would somebody do that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘I was just suggesting a way the key could have vanished.’

  They were valid suggestions, two ways that a key could have been disposed of, but why? And by who?

  ‘Who is Jerry?’ he asked, picking up the second half of his sandwich. He paused a moment to lick mayo off his thumb.

  ‘Jerry Epstein’s a friend of mine from Brooklyn, where I grew up,’ I said. ‘When I need help, he’s usually the one I call. He and my friend, Danny Bardini, who is a private eye here in town.’

  ‘And Jerry? Is he a private detective, as well?’

  ‘Uh, no,’ I said, ‘Jerry sort of comes from the other side of the tracks.’

  ‘A gangster?’

  ‘I wouldn’t call him that to his face.’

  ‘And yet you and he and the private eye, you work together?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re all from Brooklyn,’ I said, ‘and we work together well.’

  ‘So you’re all friends?’

  ‘They’re my friends,’ I said, ‘and they get along.’

  ‘So you’re going to find out what happened to this poor unfortunate girl?’

  ‘I’m gonna give it a try.’

  ‘What about the police?’

  ‘The police and I don’t get along,’ I said. ‘Specifically, the detective who was assigned to this ca
se. I think he’s calling it a suicide to get my goat. Or Jack Entratter’s.’

  ‘He doesn’t sound very good at his job.’

  ‘He lets his personal feelings get in the way.’

  ‘I see. Can’t you simply go to his superiors?’ Robinson asked.

  ‘That’s not the way things are done in Vegas, Eddie,’ I said. ‘There’s no way to be sure who to trust in the police department. I have to stick with the people I know are on the level.’

  ‘Like your friends.’

  ‘And Jack Entratter.’

  ‘Isn’t he your friend?’

  ‘He’s my boss before he’s my friend,’ I said. I checked my watch. ‘Frank should be here soon. Do you want to go back to your room until he gets here?’

  ‘I would like to get some rest before dinner,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you and Frank just come and get me when you’re ready to go?’

  ‘And for dinner, you want to stay on the strip?’

  ‘Well, of course,’ he said, spreading his arms expansively. ‘I’m in Vegas, I want to see the lights.’

  ‘OK, then,’ I said. ‘I’ll show you back to your roo—’

  ‘I can find my way to the elevator, Eddie G.,’ he said. ‘You probably have some plans to make.’

  ‘Yeah, I do.’

  He stood up and said, ‘I’ll see you later. Is this …’ he waved at the table.

  ‘On the Sands,’ I said. ‘You bet. You’re our guest.’

  He laughed, patted me on the arm and said, ‘See you later, my boy.’

  Nell came rushing over, looking disappointed.

  ‘I waited too long,’ she said, pushing out her cute lower lip.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I was gonna ask for his autograph.’

  ‘Don’t worry, sweetie,’ I said, ‘he’s gonna be around for a while.’

  ‘He’s a real charmer,’ she said. ‘Not at all like he is in the movies.’

  ‘You like older men?’ I asked. She was in her mid-twenties, which put her right on the edge of being too young for me.

  She poked me in the chest and said, ‘Charming older men, Eddie.’

  Once again she flounced away, fully aware that I was watching. But I couldn’t watch for long, because I had things to do. Frank was coming in, Jerry would probably be in tomorrow, and I had to find out if Danny had learned anything.