Fly Me to the Morgue

by Robert J. Randisi

  ‘Mr Gianelli doesn’t carry, but pat him down.’

  The guy did, in a half-assed manner, which I found sort of insulting. I think I actually could have carried a gun in there and gotten away with it.

  The man who had led us through the house was standing off to one side, hands folded in front of him.

  ‘Are you Vincent DeStefano?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said. He looked like what a bulldog would look like if it were human. Hunched, rounded shoulders, big jaw, thick chest, but short, bandy legs. ‘You’re Gianelli?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You’re here because Mr Giancana asked me to give you ten minutes of my time.’

  ‘Ten minutes?’

  ‘And it’s worth ten minutes of my time not to rub Mo Mo the wrong way.’

  ‘Then we better get started,’ I said.

  ‘I know you?’ DeStefano asked Jerry.

  He shrugged.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Jerry Epstein.’

  ‘A Jew,’ DeStefano said. ‘From where?’

  ‘Brooklyn.’

  ‘I heard about a big Jew from Brooklyn,’ DeStefano said.

  ‘Good things?’

  ‘Bad things.’

  ‘Good,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Mr Sinatra,’ DeStefano said, ‘it’s a pleasure to have you in my house. I have quite a few of your records.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Frank said. He looked a bit off balance. I think he’d intended on showing this mob guy why he and Mo Mo were friends, and the guy’s compliment threw him.

  ‘You know a family named Arnold?’ I asked DeStefano.

  He took his eyes from Jerry and looked at me.

  ‘Arnold,’ he said. ‘I know some brothers.’

  ‘Chris, Phil and Eric.’

  ‘I know Phil and Eric,’ he said. ‘Never met Chris.’

  ‘Did you have Chris killed?’

  ‘I said I never met Chris.’

  ‘I know that,’ I said. ‘That wasn’t my question.’

  ‘Why would I have some guy I don’t even know whacked?’ he asked.

  ‘You’re in business with Phil Arnold, right?’

  ‘We have had some dealings, yeah.’

  ‘And Eric?’

  ‘He’s his brother’s accountant.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘Does Phil owe you money?’

  DeStefano sat back. ‘Lots of people owe me money.’

  ‘Is Phil Arnold one of them?’ I asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘Is it a lot of money?’

  He looked at his watch.

  ‘See, somebody killed Chris Arnold,’ I said. ‘Beat him to death. I think it has something to do with Phil’s business dealings, which you just admitted you’re involved in.’

  ‘Doin’ business with the guy don’t mean I killed his brother.’

  ‘It don’t mean you didn’t, either,’ Frank said, wanting to be part of the conversation.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t necessarily mean you killed his brother.’

  DeStefano looked at his watch.

  ‘You got a few minutes left.’

  I wasted a few seconds of that time studying him.

  ‘He called you, didn’t he?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Philip,’ I said. ‘He called you yesterday after we left the office. He told you we’d be coming to see you.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ DeStefano asked.

  ‘I don’t think you would’ve agreed to see us otherwise.’

  ‘I told you why I agreed.’

  ‘Yeah, Giancana,’ I said. ‘But, you see, I think you would’ve tossed us out of here already if that was the case. You and Phil are partners, aren’t you?’

  ‘I said we had some dealings.’

  ‘And that’s all you’re willin’ to admit to?’

  ‘Time’s up, Gianelli,’ he said, looking at his watch again, ‘and now I am gonna have you tossed out.’

  His two bodyguards started for us.

  ‘Don’t try it,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Back off, pally!’ Frank chimed in. He put his hands up.

  They stopped. Apparently they’d heard about the big Jew from Brooklyn, as well. I don’t think the skinny guy from Jersey backed them off, any.

  ‘Boss,’ said the man who had shown us the way.

  ‘It’s OK, Sid,’ DeStefano said. ‘Just show our guests out.’ He looked at me, then at Frank. ‘You’ll tell Mo Mo I gave you the ten minutes I promised, right?’

  ‘I’ll tell ’im,’ Frank said.

  ‘Good.’ Then he looked at Jerry. ‘You ever think about leavin’ Brooklyn lemme know.’

  Jerry didn’t answer. We followed Sid out.

  As we approached the Caddy Frank said, ‘Well, what did that accomplish?’

  ‘Mr G?’ Jerry said.

  ‘DeStefano and Phil Arnold are partners,’ I said.

  ‘So you’re sayin’ he didn’t have Arnold beat up?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘If he had, Philip wouldn’t have warned him about us. In fact, I don’t think DeStefano had anythin’ to do with killin’ Chris.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He was way too calm about seein’ us, and about the questions I was askin’.’

  ‘Then who did have Philip Arnold beaten up?’ Frank asked. ‘And his brother killed?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, as we piled into the car under the watchful eyes of Sid – who handed Jerry back his gun – and the two outside bodyguards. ‘I think we may be back to square one.’

  FIFTY-SIX

  We drove back to the Sands, but didn’t get out of the car right away. It was as good a place as any to talk.

  ‘Did the two of you notice something back at DeStefano’s?’ I asked.

  ‘Like what?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Like while we were talkin’ to him neither one of us mentioned that there was an Arnold sister; let alone two,’ I said.

  ‘Adrienne,’ Jerry said.

  ‘There’s an Adrienne Arnold?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘She took over the negotiation with Bing about the horse.’

  ‘And DeStefano said he knew the Arnold brothers,’ Frank said.

  ‘Phil and Eric,’ I added. ‘But not Chris.’

  ‘But he knows about Chris,’ Jerry said.

  ‘If he knows the Arnold boys – about all the Arnold boys – wouldn’t he know about her?’ I asked.

  ‘And there’s another?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Yeah, but she lives in Europe, so she’s out of the picture. But Adrienne lives here . . . he’d know about her.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Frank said.

  I looked at Frank.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘you know Adrienne Arnold and you didn’t mention her.’

  We sat in silence for a few moments, Frank drumming out a rhythm on the back of my seat.

  ‘I guess,’ I said, after a few moments, ‘that was a question I should have asked him.’

  ‘Well,’ Jerry said, ‘you did only have ten minutes.’

  ‘Ten minutes?’ I repeated, looking at Frank. ‘That was all you could get me?’

  ‘I didn’t know about that part. Sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, well . . . that’s OK.’

  ‘Those guys at the house,’ Jerry said.

  ‘What about them?’ I asked.

  ‘None of them came out of the elevator at Philip Arnold’s building.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  ‘DeStefano could have used local muscle,’ Frank said. ‘Couldn’t he?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Jerry said. ‘He didn’t look like he needed any extra help.’

  ‘And any of those guys looked capable of knocking Phil Arnold around.’

  ‘So what’s next for you guys?’ Frank asked.

  ‘What’s next for you?’ I asked.

 
; ‘I got a show to do tonight. Frankie and me are leavin’ tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Headin’ home. You guys can come to the show if you have time, but I’ll understand if you can’t make it.’

  ‘Well then,’ I said, ‘Jerry and me will have to try and find Phil Arnold again. Only he can tell us who knocked him around.’

  ‘Or,’ Jerry said, ‘we could talk to Adrienne again.’

  ‘And what?’ I asked.

  ‘We could ask her the question you didn’t ask DeStefano. If she knows him.’

  ‘Good point.’

  We all popped our doors and got out of the Caddy.

  ‘Thanks for your help, Frank.’

  ‘Guess I didn’t help all that much,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, you did,’ I said. ‘The ten minutes was enough to tell us DeStefano didn’t rough up Phil or kill Fred Stanley.’

  ‘That’s not definite,’ Frank said. ‘Is it?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s just what I believe. I’ll have to run it by Danny.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Jerry said. ‘After all, he’s the dick.’

  ‘Yeah, he is,’ I said. We went inside the Sands.

  ‘I should tell Jack what happened,’ I said, as we entered the hotel.

  ‘I can do that,’ Frank said. ‘I want to see him one more time before I leave, anyway.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Thanks. He won’t get mad at me if he sees you’re OK.’

  ‘Aw, was he worried?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘he thought I’d get you . . . damaged.’

  ‘I’ll make sure he knows I’m undamaged.’

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t try to act like a gangster when we were there,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not an idiot, Eddie,’ Frank said. ‘Catch you later, pally. See ya, Jerry.’

  ‘Later, Mr S.’

  Frank headed for the elevator.

  ‘Where to boss?’ Jerry asked.

  Good question.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  We needed to find Phil Arnold again. Where to look? Where did he live?

  ‘You were right,’ I said to Jerry.

  ‘I was? About what?’

  ‘We need to talk to Adrienne again.’

  ‘You wanna do that with me,’ Jerry asked, ‘or without me?’

  ‘Let’s do it together,’ I said.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘She gave me her number, and her address.’

  ‘You wanna call her?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I think we should just . . . drop in on her.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Right now.’

  He grinned.

  ‘Back to the Caddy!’

  I was surprised to find that Adrienne Arnold lived in a brand new building, walking distance from the strip. From her door to the Dunes was about a ten minute walk.

  ‘We goin’ up?’ Jerry asked, as we stood in front of the building.

  ‘Huh? Oh, yeah. I was just finding it odd that the Arnold who lives closest to a casino is Adrienne, when the two brothers are supposed to be gamblers.’

  ‘You think she’s a gambler?’

  ‘That would explain why she still wants to sell the horse even though her brother Chris was murdered.’

  ‘Maybe the whole family gambles.’

  ‘That’s what I’m startin’ to think.’

  We went inside, found a young, uniformed doorman standing behind a desk.

  ‘Help ya?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re lookin’ for Adrienne Arnold.’

  ‘Who ain’t?’ he asked, with a silly grin. ‘She’s hot.’

  ‘Yeah, she is. Is she also in?’ I asked.

  ‘Nah, went out early. Ain’t come back, yet. Believe me, I been watchin’ for her.’

  ‘Any idea where she went?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, ‘if she ain’t home, she’s at the Dunes, hittin’ the blackjack tables. If she’s not there, just keep tryin’ casinos.’

  ‘The lady is a gambler?’ I asked.

  ‘You kiddin’?’ he asked. ‘She’s jonesin’.’

  ‘Does she play all day?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ the man said. ‘She can be gone for hours.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’

  We went back outside, stood in front.

  ‘Want me to wait here while you go lookin’ fer her?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘Naw,’ I said, ‘we can both go lookin’ for her.’

  We walked down the block and got into the Caddy.

  The Dunes was located at the southernmost tip of the Strip. Along with the Sands and the Desert Inn it was known as one of the Kings of the Strip.

  It didn’t have the success the other two had, though. Not right away. Not even booking Frank into their showroom could help. However, when they started their first topless review, that put them on the map. From that day on they were a huge success.

  I knew they were planning to spend some money on a huge neon sign the following year, ’64. It would be one hundred and eighty feet high and shoot ‘electric lava’ into the sky every minute. It would lead the way toward lighting the Strip.

  Inside the Dunes we split up.

  ‘If you find her, then find me,’ I said. ‘Unless you wanna question her.’

  ‘I’m the muscles, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘You’re the brain. I’ll find you.’

  The Dunes ran a lot of blackjack tables. Jerry took one end of the room and I took the other. I got lucky and hit the jackpot. I found her seated at one of the high stakes tables. I watched her play for a while. She was in my world now. There was nowhere to hide.

  She was occupying the middle spot. She played with her body leaning forward, watching every move the dealer made, oblivious to the fact that the eyes of all the males at the table were on her. She played with intensity, shaking her leg, biting her lip, tensing her shoulders. She’d go from elation to despair from hand to hand. The doorman was so right. She was jonesing for it. Blackjack was her drug of choice.

  I spotted Jerry across the room and waved to him. He started over.

  I moved up behind her, but before I could say a word the pit boss spotted me. We weren’t friends, but we were usually cordial to each other. He had been watching the dealer. Maybe he was suspected of cheating, or maybe he was new.

  Charlie was about my age, but that was all we had in common. Mostly because he was a prick.

  ‘Hey, Eddie,’ Charlie said. ‘Whataya doin’, checkin’ out my dealers?’

  ‘Hi, Charlie,’ I said. ‘No, just spotted a friend. Hey, Adrienne.’

  She turned and froze when she saw it was me.

  ‘Hello, Eddie.’

  ‘Wanna take a walk?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I can’t,’ she said, ‘I’m uh, on a—’

  ‘Don’t even try to tell me you’re on a roll,’ I said. ‘You just ate a twenty when the dealer made twenty-one. You need to take a break, get some air. Believe me, I know.’

  Before I knew it Charlie had come around from behind the tables. He was a big guy and he got in my face.

  ‘Hey, Eddie, it ain’t like you to try and steal a mark.’

  ‘I’m not stealing anybody, Charlie. I just wanna talk to her. She’ll be back.’

  ‘She better be,’ he said, jabbing his forefinger into my chest. He was about to do it again when Jerry grabbed the finger.

  ‘Want me to snap it off, Mr G?’ he asked.

  ‘Hey, Eddie . . .’ Charlie said, to me, looking worried.

  I looked at him.

  ‘You know, Charlie, part of your problem is you look at people as marks. They’re people. Sometimes they need to take a break. She’s takin’ a break.’ I looked at Jerry. ‘Let him go.’

  Jerry released Charlie’s finger.

  I took Adrienne by the elbow.

  ‘Let’s take a walk.’

  ‘I’ll lose my seat,’ she said, ‘my chips . . .’

  ‘They’ll all be here when you get back, right, Charlie?’

>   ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Charlie said, ‘right, go ahead. Get some air.’

  ‘See?’ I said to Adrienne. ‘Come on.’

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Jerry and I walked Adrienne out on to the street, in front.

  ‘You told me your brother Eric was a gambler,’ I said. ‘I found out Philip is, too. But you didn’t tell me that you were, also.’

  ‘You didn’t ask me.’ She was rubbing her upper arms, although it wasn’t cold. She was feeling the urgency of having to get back inside.

  ‘You told me you lived in Henderson. So you lied about that.’

  ‘I didn’t lie,’ she said. ‘I have a house in Henderson.’

  ‘We talked with Eric and Philip, Adrienne,’ I said. ‘That led us to Vincent DeStefano. You know him, don’t you?’

  ‘Um, yes, I know Mr DeStefano.’

  ‘Funny,’ I said, ‘when we talked to Vince he didn’t mention knowin’ you. How well are the two of you acquainted?’

  She averted her eyes and said, ‘Pretty well.’

  I was afraid I knew what ‘pretty well’ meant.

  He was partners with Philip, Eric was their accountant, and Adrienne was his . . . girl? DeStefano was definitely involved with the entire family.

  ‘What’s Vince’s connection with the horse, Adrienne?’

  ‘The horse?’

  ‘Chris’s horse?’

  ‘Vince? Nothing.’

  ‘He’s partners with Phil, right? And Phil thinks he’s got a piece of the horse?’

  ‘Phil thinks he’s got a piece of everything, Eddie,’ she said. ‘He’s all talk.’

  ‘And Eric?’

  ‘Like I told you, Eric does Philip’s books.’

  ‘Yeah, the real set and the queer set.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about that,’ she said. ‘Look, I’m just trying to sell the horse.’

  ‘Because you need the money?’ She didn’t answer. ‘You owe money, Adrienne?’

  ‘Doesn’t everybody?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘you owe big money, don’t you? And the sale of the horse was gonna bail you out? Was Christopher gonna help you when he sold the horse?’

  ‘O-of course,’ she said. ‘He was my brother.’

  ‘So are Phil and Eric. Were they gonna help you?’

  ‘They can’t even help themselves.’

  ‘What about Vince? Was he gonna help you?’

  ‘Vince would help me . . . if I asked.’

  ‘But you haven’t?’

  ‘No.’