[Rat Pack 11] - I Only Have Lies for You

by Robert J. Randisi

“Okay, Mr. G.,” he said, “I’ll back off…a little.”

  He backed off a bit, but not much. At one point I just decided to sit in the bar with him and wait to hear from Gleason. People could find me there if they needed me, and approach if they so desired, under Jerry’s watchful eye.

  Finally, just when I could hear Jerry’s stomach start growling for lunch, there was a phone call for me.

  “Thanks,” I said, as the bartender handed me the phone.

  “Sure, Mr. G..”

  “Hello?”

  “Eddie? Pal? It’s Jackie!” Each line was like an explosion in my ear.

  “Jackie,” I said, looking at Jerry and pointing at the receiver as I held it to my ear, “where are you?”

  “I’m here, in your hotel,” Jackie said. “I got a nice suite. That you’re doin’? Or Frank’s?”

  “Probably’s Frank’s, since I didn’t know you were comin’ until yesterday.”

  “Ah, well, I’m glad he told ya we were comin’,” Jackie said.

  “We?”

  “Yeah, Marilyn’s with me. We both came to see you, pal. You got time for us?”

  “I’ve got all the time in the world for you, Jackie,” I said. “Why don’t I come on up?”

  “Nah, nah,” Jackie said, “you know how women are. Marilyn’s gotta, ya know, clean up. Why don’t we meet ya somewhere in, say, two hours?”

  “Sure, Jackie,” I said, “that’ll be just in time for an early dinner. I’ll have a limo out front for you.”

  “Yeah,” Jackie said, “that’s good. Take us someplace nice, kid. You know, let’s do it up for Marilyn. And don’t worry, it don’t have to be Chink’s.”

  “Okay, Jackie, I know just the place.”

  “And bring somebody,” Jackie said. “Ya know, a date.”

  I looked at Jerry and said, “I know just the person.”

  I hung up and looked at Jerry.

  “Well?” he said.

  “They’re here,” I said, “him and Marilyn. We’re havin’ dinner in two hours.”

  “Me, too?” he asked.

  “Yeah, you, too,” Eddie said. I slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re my date.”

  TWENTY EIGHT

  The Bootlegger was an Italian restaurant off the strip, one of Frank’s favorites.

  Jerry and I were standing at the limo when Jackie came out with Marilyn. He was resplendent in a fitted tux, and she wore a beautiful blue dress that showed her figure off.

  “Hey, pal!” Jackie yelled. He shook my hand and pounded me on the back.

  Marilyn leaned in, kissed me and said, “It’s good to see you again, Eddie.”

  “This is Jerry,” I said, as Jackie looked him up and down.

  “Your date?” he asked.

  “My bodyguard,” I said, “and my good friend, who also happens to be from Brooklyn.”

  “Hey, good to meet somebody from home,” Jackie said, shaking Jerry’s hand. “Bed Stuy.”

  “Sheepshead Bay,” Jerry said.

  “Yeah? I used to fish there all the time.”

  We three gentlemen allowed Marilyn to get into the car first, then followed Jackie and me in the back, and Jerry in front with the driver.

  “Where we headed, pal?” Jackie asked. As usual, he had a cigarette in his right hand.

  “The Bootlegger,” I said. “One of Frank’s favorites.”

  “Italian,” he laughed. “That figures. Frank loves his spaghetti.”

  The limo driver dropped us directly in front of the restaurant. As we entered a maitre d’ met us at the door with a big smile. Any friend of Mr. Sinatra, and all that. I hadn’t called ahead, so it must have been Frank. He showed us to Frank’s booth.

  “Anything you need,” he assured us, “just tell Carlo, here, and he’ll get it for you.”

  Carlo, an experienced Bootlegger waiter, nodded and assured us that was correct. We ordered drinks and Jackie told him to bring them “chop-chop.”

  When we all had drinks I asked, “Jackie, what’s goin’ on? Why are you and Marilyn here.”

  “Well, Eddie, ol’ pal,” Jackie said, “one reason we’re here is that we wanna stay alive.”

  “He’s being a little dramatic,” Marilyn said.

  “That’s not true,” Jackie said, looking me in the eyes. “I’m bein’ dead serious.”

  “Does this have to do with the dead guy in the elevator?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Jackie said, “that’s exactly what it has to do with.”

  “I thought the cops were on that.”

  “They were,” Jackie said, “they are, but they ain’t gettin’ no place fast. They got his name. After that, they’re stumped.”

  “That ain’t unusual,” Jerry said. “Cops are usually stumped, especially when they’re dealing with a professional hitter. He came to town, did the job, and left.”

  “See,” Jackie said to me, pointing at Jerry, “he sounds like he knows what he’s talkin’ about.”

  “Okay, so the cops are stumped,” I said. “That doesn’t explain what you’re doin’ here, the two of you. Don’t you have a show to put on?”

  “June is workin’ the dancers,” Jackie said, “and everybody else is still on the job.”

  “And since Jackie doesn’t rehearse, he’s not being missed—yet,” Marilyn laughed.

  The waiter came back and we all ordered dinners — spaghetti and meatballs, just to make it simple.

  “So why the comment about wantin’ to stay alive?” I asked Jackie.

  He pointed at Jerry again. “He says the hitman came and went. I ain’t so sure.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because someone is still watching me,” Marilyn said.

  “It’s gotta be him,” Jackie said. “Who else could it be?”

  “Why would the hitter be watchin’ this pretty lady?” Jerry asked. “He did his job.”

  “Well, look at her,” Jackie said. “Wouldn’t you wanna watch her?”

  “Well... yeah,” Jerry said, blushing.

  “You’re sweet,” she said to him, making him blush even more.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re tellin’ me that a hitman came to town to do a job, killed the guy who was watching Marilyn, and now he’s got a thing for Marilyn and is watchin’ her?”

  “That’s what I think,” Jackie said.

  “So okay,” I said, “let’s say that’s true. Where do I come in?”

  “You’re the guy!” Jackie exclaimed happily.

  “What guy?” I asked.

  “Frank says you’re the guy who solves all the problems,” Jackie said. “Him, Dino, Sammy, they got problems, you solve ‘em. Ava had a problem, Judy, you helped them, too. So now I’ve got a problem and Eddie G... you’re the guy!”

  TWENTY NINE

  We ate.

  Jerry ate with gusto. He was considering this a free pass, meeting Jackie, and all.

  Gleason ate with even more gusto than Jerry if that’s possible.

  Marilyn picked at her food.

  I sulked, ate a bite or two.

  Frank had stuck me right in the middle of this little drama, and I was pissed.

  But when you get pissed at the Chairman of the Board, what do you do? Do I say, hey Frank, what the hell? I’m ticked off at you. In trying to do his friend and mentor, Jackie Gleason, a favor, he stuck me.

  Hey Frank, ain’t we friends?

  “You know,” Jackie said, gesturing with his fork, “this ain’t Chinks, but it ain’t half bad. I can see why Frank likes this place.”

  Marilyn looked at me. She sensed my mood, and I could tell she felt bad for me.

  I decided to get over it and started eating in earnest. Jerry and Jackie were almost done.

  “You gonna finish that?” Jackie asked Marilyn.

  She looked down at her plate, which was half full, and said, “No, you can have it.”

  “Just some of it,” he said, and switched plates with her.

  Jerry looked at my plat
e and I said, “Don’t even think about it.”

  ***

  We decided against dessert, even though Jackie didn’t look happy about it.

  “We can get coffee, tea and something from room service,” Marilyn told him.

  “Sure,” Jackie said, “room service.”

  I didn’t tell him that the Sands had nothing like the Bootlegger’s tiramisu, but I did know they had some good cheese and chocolate cakes.

  The Bootlegger must have been used to taking care of Frank’s driver. The man was wiping his mouth with a napkin when we walked out to the car.

  “Right,” he said, stuffing the napkin into his pocket, “that it? Where to now?”

  “Back to the Sands?”

  ”Ain’t we gonna do the town up?” Jackie asked.

  “With a hitman maybe lookin’ for me, or Marilyn, or both of us? Not a good idea, Jackie.”

  “We’re in Vegas, Eddie, not Miami Beach.”

  “You came here, he could come here, too,” I said.

  “He’s right, Jackie,” Marilyn said. “Besides, I’m tired from the flight.”

  “Okay, baby, okay,” Jackie said. “We’ll go back.”

  We piled into the limo and rode back to the Sands in silence, which suited me. The driver left us right at the front door.

  “You wanna come up for a drink, Eddie?” Jackie asked.

  “Marilyn’s tired—“ I started, but he cut me off.

  “It’s a big suite,” he said. “Besides, I ain’t finished talkin’ to you. Come on, whataya say?”

  “Sure,” I said, “we’ll come up in a little while.”

  “We?” Jackie asked.

  “I go where Mr. G. goes,” Jerry said. “Until this is over, anyway.”

  “Yeah, okay, Jerry,” Jackie said. “I’ll see ya both later.”

  He put his arm around Marilyn and they went into the lobby.

  “Now what?” Jerry asked.

  “You still have to hear back from some calls you made, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Let’s check with the hotel operator, see if anybody called.”

  “Am I done, Mr. Gianelli?” the driver asked.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry Paul. Here...” I put my hand in my pocket.

  “That’s okay, sir,” Paul said. “Mr. Sinatra takes good care of me.”

  “I’ll bet he does,” I said, as he got back in the car.

  As we went into the lobby Jerry said, “Should we go to the desk?”

  “No,” I said, “let’s go to the suite. You can check for messages from there.”

  “Right.”

  We went to the elevator without anyone approaching us and rode up to our floor. In the suite, we saw the message light flashing on the phone.

  “I’ll check in,” he said.

  “Fine.”

  I went to the bathroom, and when I came out he was just hanging up.

  “I got two messages, both leaving numbers for me to call back.”

  I looked at my watch. It was after nine, which meant 11 or midnight in Chicago or New York.

  “Go ahead and make the calls, even though it might be too late.”

  “Right, Mr. G..”

  I sat on the sofa to consider my options while Jerry started dialing.

  I could tell Frank and Jackie that this was out of my league, dealing with some pro who went to Miami Beach to make a hit and may have disappeared. But, if he was watching Marilyn, then at least that he wasn’t coming after me.

  On the other hand, what I’d said in the restaurant was true. If Jackie and Marilyn came to Vegas, the killer might have done the same. If that was true, he was in my backyard.

  And as mad as I was at Frank, did I want Frank getting mad at me? Maybe before I made a decision I should talk to somebody who knew him real well. Maybe I should get some advice from Dean. Jackie knew him, but he was too involved to give me unbiased advice.

  I heard Jerry hang up and looked up as he came across the room at me.

  “I got through to one call, it was from Chicago. My guy doesn’t know anything about a hitter in Miami.”

  “And the other one?”

  “It came from Brooklyn,” he said. “It’s after midnight there. I’ll have to try tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I said, “let’s go have that drink with Jackie.” I stood up, headed for the door, then changed direction and went to the phone. “Let me check and see if he called room service, If he didn’t I’ll have them send some dessert.”

  But Jackie had made the call already, for coffee, tea, and some cakes.

  “What kind of cake?” Jerry asked as we went out the door.

  THIRTY

  Jackie let us in and acted like he hadn’t seen us in weeks.

  “Good ta see ya, pals!” he exclaimed, slapping us on the back. “Come on in!”

  He crossed the large expanse of the room and got behind the bar, where he looked for all the world like Joe the Bartender—only I wasn’t Crazy Guggenheim.

  “How about a drink?”

  “Where’s Marilyn?” I asked.

  “She went to bed,” Jackie said. “She was exhausted. Come on, whataya have?”

  On the bar was a tray with the coffee and cake they’d ordered.

  “I’ll have a cup of coffee,” I said.

  “Jerry?” Jackie asked.

  “Coffee,” Jerry said, “no milk, no sugar—and one of those cheesecakes.”

  I looked at him.

  “What? It’s a special occasion.”

  Jackie poured two coffees, and then a straight bourbon for himself. He put out his cigarette in an ashtray, and his hand went right into his right side pocket and came out with another one, which he fired up.

  “You guys are makin’ me feel like a boozehound.”

  “I gotta keep sharp in order to protect Mr. G.,” Jerry said.

  “And I’ve got work tomorrow,” I said.

  Jackie took a look at the variety of cakes on the tray and, as Jerry had, picked a cheesecake.

  “Jack Entratter keep you jumpin’?” he asked.

  “All the time,” I said, “but he’s real understanding about... special cases.”

  “Oh, like me, you mean?”

  “Like any friend of Frank’s,” I said.

  Jackie frowned at me for a moment before speaking again.

  “Do we have a problem, Eddie?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Because I like you, kid,” Jackie said, “but I get the feelin’ you don’t like me.”

  “It’s not you, Jackie,” I said, “I’m just kinda... pissed at Frank.”

  “Ah, because he sprung me and Marilyn on you?”

  “Exactly.”

  Jackie waved the hand that was holding the cigarette.

  “Don’t blame Frank,” he said. “I just don’t like anybody else talkin’ about my business. I asked him to tell you as little as possible.”

  The bar had some stools in front of it. I sat on one and put my coffee down in front of me.

  “Okay, then,” I said, “let’s talk about it. Suppose this guy doesn’t mean Marilyn any harm?”

  “He’s a killer,” Jackie pointed out. “A hitman.”

  “And if he wanted her dead, she probably would be,” I countered.

  “That sounds right,” Jerry agreed.

  “Okay,” Jackie said, “so he’s followin’ her because he’s got a crush on her. So maybe he’s not a pro. Maybe he killed the guy in the elevator because he was followin’ Marilyn, an’ this guy didn’t like it.”

  “No,” I said, “the way he approached me in the bar, he’s a pro. The police are working on that assumption.”

  “Okay,” Jackie said, cocking his head to one side, “so we stay with the assumption he’s a hitman. How long before he decides to get me out of the way?”

  “That’s a possibility,” Jerry agreed.

  “In that case,” I said to Jackie, “you’re better off with the police.”

&nb
sp; He pointed at me with the cigarette hand. “You’re the guy.”

  “I wish you’d stop sayin’ that,” I said. “We’re dealing with a pro, and I’m not a pro.”

  “As good as,” Jerry said.

  “There, see?” Jackie said.

  I gave Jerry a look and he stuck a piece of cheesecake into his pie hole.

  “All right,” I said, thinking of Danny, “I do have a pro at my disposal. I’ll make use of him.”

  “Whatever you gotta do,” Jackie said. “I want this guy off of Marilyn’s tail.”

  “How long are you gonna stay in Vegas?” I asked.

  “Well, we came to see you,” Jackie said, “but I guess we could stay a couple of days. We’ll just have to get back to Miami to do the next show.”

  “Then I better get with it.” I slid off the stool. “Come on, Jerry.” To Jackie I said, “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Come by and see us tomorrow night,” Jackie said.

  “I’ll have Jerry keep an eye on you, so you can take in some of the sights if you want.”

  “Sights,” Jackie said, “right, like the Flamingo and the Desert Inn.”

  He walked us to the door, slapped us on the back again, and then closed the door as soon as we were out in the hall.

  “Mr. G.,” Jerry said, “I’m supposed to be keepin’ an eye on you.”

  “I’m gonna see Danny,” I said. “Meanwhile, we need to find out if Marilyn’s really being watched, or if they’re imagining it.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “They won’t be here long,” I said, as we walked to the elevator. “Maybe we can wrap this up quick.”

  THIRTY ONE

  In the morning I met with Danny in the Garden Café. I didn’t tell that to Jerry because he would have wanted to come rather than keep an eye on Jackie and Marilyn.

  “When do I get to meet The Great One?” Danny asked, sliding into the booth across from me.

  “Maybe later today,” I said.

  “What’s this about, then?”

  “I need a pro to catch a pro.”

  “I thought you wanted me to keep an eye on Gleason and his girl?”

  “Well, I’m playin’ this by ear,” I said. “Now I’ve got Jerry watching them.”