‘No,’ I said, ‘but I’m still workin’ on Bing’s problem.’
‘Frank came in today,’ he said. ‘You got your tickets for tonight?’
‘Yeah, I got ’em.’
‘Good, ’cause I don’t wanna disappoint him.’
‘You goin’?’
‘You know I don’t go to shows in other places.’
‘Yeah, but you’re goin’ to this one, right?’
He frowned, like he was in pain, and said, ‘Yeah.’
‘OK, look,’ I said, ‘forget about grandma for a minute. I got a question.’
‘Go ahead, ask.’ He folded his arms and kept his eyes on the old lady, but he was listening.
‘You ever heard of a guy named Vincent DeStefano?’
He forgot about the grandma and looked at me.
‘Where did you hear that name?’
‘Came across it today.’
‘In relation to what?’
‘The murder of the horse guy out in Red Rock Canyon. Why, you know ’im?’
‘I need a drink,’ he said. ‘Come on.’
He gave the slot machine lady one last look, then turned to head for the lounge. At that moment she hit again and he hunched his shoulders as the nickels started pouring out.
We got seated at a table in the lounge. It was late afternoon and starting to get busy. Didi dispensed with the dirty looks because I was with Jack. We both ordered bourbon.
‘OK,’ he said, ‘listen up. You gotta stay away from Vince DeStefano.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, I’d tell you because I said so, but I don’t think that would do it . . . would it?’ He gave me a hopeful look.
‘No.’
‘I didn’t think so.’
Didi came with our drinks. We leaned back and let her put them on the table.
‘Thanks, doll,’ Jack said.
‘Sure, Mr Entratter.’
‘She’s cute,’ he said, watching her walk away. ‘You should try tappin’ that.’
I stared at him.
‘You already did,’ he said. ‘Why do I even talk?’
‘DeStefano, Jack,’ I said, sipping my drink.
‘Damn it, Eddie, how do you get yourself into these situations?’
‘Excuse me, Jack,’ I said, ‘but most of the time I’m mindin’ my own business in my pit and you get me involved in these situations.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, rubbing his face with his left hand and picking up his drink with his right. ‘OK, tell me how you got on to DeStefano . . .’
FIFTY-THREE
He listened, working slowly on his drink as I told him what Jerry and I had done that day.
‘But he didn’t hang anybody from a window, or kill anybody?’
‘No, Jack,’ I said, ‘but I think you missed the point of my little tale. Somebody tried to kill us. And I think it’s connected to Vince DeStefano.’
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I appreciate your dilemma, I do. But you gotta stay away from DeStefano.’
‘You still haven’t told me why.’
‘Because he’ll kill you, that’s why. Just as soon as look at you, he’ll kill you. And Jerry. And Bardini, if you get him involved. And his girl, what’s her name?’
‘Penny.’
‘Yeah, Penny, her too.’
I finished my drink and put the glass down hard.
‘Jack, you can’t expect to drop a bomb like that on me and then just stop.’
‘Kid,’ he said, ‘you been up against it a few times in the past few years, and I’ll give it to you, you come out the other end. But this guy . . . even Mo Mo don’t wanna mess with him.’
Jesus, I thought to myself.
‘Jack, why don’t I know this guy’s name? How long’s he been in Vegas?’
‘Just a year or two.’
‘How’d he get in here so quiet?’
‘Mo Mo sent him in here, set ’im up on the quiet.’
‘But if Mo Mo’s afraid of him—’
‘Jesus, kid, I didn’t say that!’ he told me, sharply. ‘I never said that. All I said was that Mo Mo didn’t wanna mess with him. And he don’t. So he sent him here before he had to kill him.’
‘Or before he killed Mo Mo, right?’
‘Let’s just say before he could try.’
‘What’s a connected guy like DeStefano doin’ messin’ with these morons?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘And I don’t wanna ask him.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I do.’
‘Eddie—’
‘Jack, damn it,’ I complained, ‘you’re tying my hands.’
‘That’s better than having cement tied to your ankles at the bottom of Lake Mead.’
‘That ain’t gonna happen.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because Mo Mo’s not gonna let it.’
‘Mo Mo’s not gonna get involved in this, Eddie.’
‘Yeah, he is, Jack.’
‘Oh yeah? Why?’
‘Because Frank’s gonna ask him to.’
Frank agreed to meet me and Jack in Jack’s office. Entratter sent his girl home early.
‘I think I’m starting to grow on her,’ I said. ‘She actually said my name today.’
‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘She hates you.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll have to ask her.’
‘I’m really not that interested in the answer,’ I said.
When Frank arrived we all shook hands, and Jack poured us all a drink. Then we sat down and got to business.
‘I need a big favor, Frank,’ I said.
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘Not after everything you’ve done for us. Whataya need, sport?’
‘I need you to call Mo Mo and ask him for a favor.’
‘What kind of favor?’
‘There’s a made guy in town,’ Jack said, ‘that Eddie needs to talk to. He wants . . . he’d like Mo Mo to arrange it for him.’
Frank looked at me. He was sitting comfortably in the chair, wearing gray slacks and an open collar polo shirt.
‘What’s this made guy’s name?’ Frank asked. ‘Do I know ’im?’
‘Vincent DeStefano,’ I said.
Frank pursed his lips for a minute, then said, ‘Never heard of the bum. What’s he done?’
‘I don’t know that he’s done anythin’,’ I said, ‘but I wanna ask him. We got two murders on our hands that have something to do with Bing Crosby wantin’ to buy a horse.’
‘Hey, I heard about that from Bing,’ Frank said. ‘Not the murders, just that he was here to buy a horse. Tell me about the murders.’
So I did. I filled him in on everything Bing, Jerry and I had gone through over the past few days.
‘So because you and Jerry were shot at you think DeStefano ordered the hit?’
‘I think both Philip and Eric Arnold are too soft to have done it,’ I said. ‘DeStefano fits, but I need to talk to him, and look at him while I do it.’
‘Jerry gonna go with you to see him?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK,’ Frank said. ‘I wanna come, too.’
‘Hey, Frank—’ Jack started.
‘Naw, naw,’ he said to Jack, holding one hand out, ‘this sounds like too much fun to miss.’ He looked at me. ‘I’ll set it up through Mo Mo, Eddie, but I gotta go along, or it’s no deal.’
I knew Frank loved anything that had to do with made guys. And they also seemed to love being around him. They had a mutual admiration society going.
‘OK, Frank,’ I said. ‘If you set it, you can come.’
‘When do you wanna do it?’
‘Tomorrow mornin’ would be good.’
‘Not in the mornin’,’ he said. ‘We’re all going to Frankie’s show tonight, and then we’re goin’ out. Late night all around. How about the afternoon?’
‘Sure, Frank,’ I said. ‘Make it in the afternoon.’
He practically leaped out of his chair.
‘I’ll go back
to my room and make the call now,’ he said. He started for the door, but turned and pointed at us. ‘See you both at the Flamingo tonight, right?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it, Frank,’ Jack told him. ‘Either of us.’
Frank waved and left the room.
‘If you let anythin’ happen to him tomorrow . . .’ Jack warned me.
‘Hey, it’s not my idea for him to come along.’
‘It was your idea to ask him for the favor,’ he rightfully pointed out, ‘and now he’s gonna be on the firing line.’
‘He loves the firing line!’
‘I’m just tellin’ you,’ Jack said. ‘You and that big galoot of yours better be on your toes tomorrow.’
‘Jerry’s always on his toes.’
‘Especially tomorrow,’ Jack said. ‘Now go. I’ll see you tonight.’
I got up and left the office. I had to drive home and get dressed for the Flamingo. I’d bring back a few changes of clothes for my locker. If it was going to be a late night, like Frank said, I’d have to stay over.
I wondered as I went down in the elevator if Mo Mo would go along with this? Had he ever said no to Frank Sinatra?
FIFTY-FOUR
I woke the next morning with a raging headache and something strange in my mouth. When I reached in there to see what it was, it turned out to be my tongue.
Just as Frank had predicted, it had been a late night. Frankie had done his show, and then Frank went up and did a number, then invited Dino up for one. The Flamingo ended up hosting an impromptu meeting of the Summit, which didn’t make Jack very happy.
Entratter begged off the carousing after the show, so both Franks, Dino, Jerry and I piled into a limo and did the town. Somewhere along the way, we picked up three showgirls. They fawned all over Frank and Dean until Frank practically ordered them to make a fuss over Frank Junior. In the end Junior ended up with one girl, and Frank with two. Dean managed to give his to Frank. None of the girls had the slightest interest in me, although one of them seemed to find Jerry’s size interesting.
The phone rang and I grabbed my head with one hand, and the receiver with the other.
‘Stop it,’ I said. ‘No more ringing.’
‘Hey, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘Look around your room will ya. And see if the top of my head is there.’
‘It might be under the bed, but I’m afraid if I lean over to look, the top of my head will fall off.’
‘What a night, huh?’
‘You said it.’
‘Ya wanna get some food?’
Shockingly, I did. Now that he mentioned it, I was starving.
‘Sure, but I need a shower. Gimme half an hour.’
‘When are we supposed to meet Mr S?’ he asked.
I frowned.
‘I don’t remember. Did we set a time?’
‘I think we did,’ he said. ‘I think when he took those two babes to his room he said, “See ya . . . sometime.” I can’t remember when or where.’
‘Crap,’ I said. ‘OK, we’ll have to eat in the building. Maybe it’ll come to one of us.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ he said. ‘Meet you in the Garden Room in thirty minutes.’
‘I’ll be the guy with the dark circles under my eyes,’ I said, and hung up.
Surprisingly, I beat Jerry down to the restaurant. I had a pot of coffee and some cups on the table when he arrived. We were looking at the menu, getting ready to order, when Frank walked in.
‘Hey,’ he said, ‘I didn’t think you guys would remember we said we’d meet here. Scooch over, big guy.’
He slid into the booth next to Jerry and grabbed a menu.
‘Coffee?’ I asked, since we had extra cups on the table.
‘Hell, yeah,’ he said. ‘How’s the Spanish omelet here?’
‘Really good,’ Jerry said. ‘I had one.’
‘Think I’ll have steak and eggs.’ He put the menu down and looked at me. ‘You look like you slept under a highway.’
‘I don’t know how you do it,’ I said. ‘The late night, the girls, the drinkin’ . . .’
‘Keeps me young,’ he said.
The waitress came over to take our order. Her eyes widened when she saw Frank.
‘Hey, sweetie. How about some steak and eggs?’
‘Certainly, Mr Sinatra.’
I asked for the same. I wasn’t sure she’d remember if I ordered something different than Frank. Jerry just ordered a couple of stacks of pancakes.
‘OK,’ Frank said, ‘so I talked with Mo Mo last night.’
We hadn’t discussed it at the Flamingo, or after the show. Frank had only been interested in Frankie’s performance and showing the kid a good time after. He was as proud as a Papa could be.
‘What did Mo Mo say?’ I asked.
‘Well, he wanted to know what the story was, so I told him everything you told me. He was really interested, especially when he heard Bing was involved.’
‘And?’
‘He went for it,’ Frank said. ‘DeStefano will be waitin’ for us.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ I said.
‘No, it’ll just be a meet and greet,’ Frank said. ‘Mo Mo’s gonna ask DeStefano to do it as a favor to him.’
‘That’s great, Frank. Did he, uh, tell you anything about the guy?’
‘He said to be careful, but he didn’t fill me in.’
I looked at Jerry.
‘We didn’t have a chance to talk yesterday,’ I said. ‘You made some calls?’
‘I heard the guy’s a hard ass,’ he said. ‘Everybody I talked to said so, and one guy says he’s crazy.’
‘Entratter said even Mo Mo doesn’t want to mess with him,’ I told them.
‘I got that impression,’ Frank said, ‘but I think it’s because Mo Mo doesn’t wanna have to kill him.’
The waitress came with breakfast, fawned all over Frank as she set his plate in front of him. His steak looked bigger than mine, and perfectly cooked.
‘Thanks, babe,’ he said to her, which sent her away tittering.
‘Jerry,’ Frank said, looking at his plate and not at the big guy, ‘Mo Mo suggested you stay behind, at the hotel.’
‘What?’ Jerry looked away from his pancakes. That meant he was really upset. ‘Why?’
‘He thinks taking you along might . . . cause something to happen.’
‘I can’t let you and Mr G. walk in there without me, Mr S.,’ he said. ‘This guy DeStefano’s gonna have some of his guys there.’
‘I know that, Jerry,’ Frank said. ‘I’m only passin’ along Mo Mo’s suggestion.’
Jerry looked at me. We knew what Mo Mo’s ‘suggestion’ meant.
‘Jerry,’ I said, ‘how about you come along, but wait outside the building?’
‘So I can come rushin’ in when I hear the shots?’ he asked. ‘And you’re already dead?’
‘He’s got a point, Frank,’ I said. ‘Two men have already been killed, and we’ve been shot at. But if you wanna go in without Jerry as backup—’
‘Hey,’ Frank said, ‘fuck Mo Mo. If he thinks we’re gonna walk into DeStefano’s world unarmed and unprotected, he can go fuck himself. And if DeStefano doesn’t like it, fuck him, too. How’s that?’
‘Suits me, Mr S.,’ Jerry said, happily.
‘That suggestion gets my vote,’ I said.
‘Just one thing,’ Frank said.
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘One of you two is gonna tell Mo Mo we didn’t take his suggestion,’ Frank said, ‘without tellin’ him that I said he should go fuck himself.’
FIFTY-FIVE
Vincent DeStefano lived in Overton, Nevada, near Lake Mead. The sprawling house was new, had been built among the equally sprawling mesas and foothills.
Jerry drove the Caddy with me in the front, and Frank in the back. The other thing Frank had supplied were the directions on how to get there.
There were no front gates, so we drove up a winding driveway to the house. As we got ou
t I spotted two men, on either side of the drive, wearing suits with guns underneath them. I didn’t see them, I just knew they were there.
Jerry confirmed my suspicion.
‘Heeled,’ he said, ‘under their arms.’
‘They’re not the only ones,’ Frank said, with great satisfaction.
I turned and looked at Frank.
‘You brought a gun?’
‘Jerry brought a gun.’
‘They’ll expect Jerry to be armed,’ I said. ‘They’ll frisk him and take it.’
‘Maybe they won’t frisk me,’ Frank said.
‘Yeah, they will,’ Jerry said.
‘Better let me have it, Frank,’ I said. ‘I’ll put it in the glove compartment.’
I extended my hand back. He stared at it for a few seconds, then reluctantly took the gun from his jacket pocket and put it in my hand. It was a .38, with a short barrel.
I opened the glove compartment, stuck it in and slammed it. Briefly, I considered taking Jerry’s .45 and putting it in with the .38, then decided against it. Let them find it when they frisked him.
‘OK,’ I said, ‘time to go in.’
As if on cue, the front door of the house opened. A man came out and met us halfway up the concrete steps.
‘Mr DeStefano is waiting for you,’ he said. ‘This way.’
We followed him up and into the house, then through the house and out the back. From there we saw an incredible view of the foothills. And I was pretty sure I could smell Lake Mead.
There was a round table with some chairs around it. It looked like patio furniture for a much less grand property than this. The person who had purchased it did not have the taste to match the house.
There was a man seated at the table, with two other men standing near him. They wore suits, and were undoubtedly armed. The seated man’s lack of taste was clear in the white shoes, blue pants and mustard-brown t-shirt he was wearing. Especially the black socks.
My heart started to race.
‘Frisk him,’ DeStefano said, pointing at Jerry.
Jerry raised his hands. They patted us down and took Jerry’s .45.
‘The movie star, too.’
‘Movie star?’ Frank said, raising his arms.
‘Singer, whatever,’ DeStefano said.
‘He’s clean,’ one of the bodyguards said. ‘What about him?’ jerking his thumb at me.
Fly Me to the Morgue Page 15
