[Rat Pack 02] - Luck Be a Lady, Don't Die

by Robert J. Randisi

  “Yeah, he was.”

  We finished breakfast and Jerry insisted on cleaning the kitchen. I left him to do that while I showered and dressed. When I came back downstairs he was ready. He was wearing the same wrinkled gray suit. I had on a windbreaker and blue jeans, taking a break from my everyday black suit.

  “Jerry, where’s your suitcase?”

  “Dino got me a room at the Sands. It’s there.”

  “We’ll have to get you some fresh clothes.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I wear the same clothes a lot.”

  “Still, at some point we’ll go to the Sands so you can change, maybe pick up your suitcase.”

  “Whatever you say, Mr. G.”

  When we stepped outside he said, “I noticed you replaced your Caddy.”

  “Kinda.”

  “This is a fifty-three, right?”

  “Right,” I said. “Good bye, Jerry.”

  “Can I drive it?”

  Nobody had driven this Caddy but me since I got it five months ago, but I remembered how well Jerry had handled my old one.

  “You, me and nobody else,” I said, handing him the keys.

  Nine

  The GOLDEN NUGGET—along with the Horseshoe—was the gem of Fremont Street. That might have explained why Frank put Mary Clarke there.

  As we drove past the Fremont Street Theater Jerry asked, “Are you goin’ ta the openin’, Mr. G.?”

  “I’ve got a couple of tickets.”

  “Takin’ that good lookin’ waitress you was seein’ last time I was here?”

  “Uh, no, things have changed, we’re not, uh, seeing each other, anymore.”

  “Hey, too bad,” he said. “She was a sweet kid.”

  “Yeah, she was,” I said, then corrected myself. “I mean, she still is.” Jerry took his eyes off the road for a second to look at me. “Sounds like maybe you’re still stuck on her.”

  “It wouldn’t matter, Jerry,” I said. “She’s not stuck on me.”

  “Like you said,” he replied, “things change.”

  I directed Jerry to park behind the Nugget and we went in the back way. While I wanted to talk to the hotel staff—particularly the front desk people—there was someone else I wanted to see first.

  “Hey, whoa,” Jerry said as we reached the door of the office I wanted. “A cop?”

  I looked at the letters, which spelled out hotel security.

  “Not a cop, Jerry. A house dick.”

  “A dick’s a dick, Mr. G.,” he said. “They make me nervous. If ya don’t mind I’ll wait out here.”

  “Suit yourself,” I told him. “I can’t get in any trouble in there, anyway. ”

  I opened the door and went in without knocking. Dave Lewis was sitting behind his desk, crumpling up paper and tossing it into a wastebasket across the office—or trying to. The floor around the basket was littered with his misses.

  “That’s why the Golden Nugget pays you the big bucks,” I said, startling him.

  He turned in his chair and gaped at me, then relaxed when he realized I wasn’t somebody who could fire him.

  “Scared me outta a year’s growth, Eddie,” he said, “ya mutt. How you doin’?”

  “Pretty good, Dave.”

  He stood up and we shook hands. He had a wad of paper in his left hand. All ready to go.

  “Wanna give it a go?” he asked.

  I snatched the paper from his hand and tossed it at the basket in one motion. It hit the rim and bounced away.

  “I never could shoot hoops.”

  “Me, neither.” He sat down in his chair, leaned back and looked up at me. He’d started out at the bottom, at the Nugget ten years earlier when he first came to town, had worked his way up to his own office. But the effort seemed to have aged him twenty years instead of ten. He was balding and had the potbelly of a fifty-year-old.

  “What brings you down here?” he asked. “Entratter get smart and can your ass, finally?”

  “No, I’ve still got him fooled. I’m lookin’ for somebody who’s supposed to be registered here.”

  “Supposed to be?”

  “Well, she is, but I hear nobody’s seen her for a while.”

  “Her? This some broad you’re tryin’ to hide out here, Eddie?”

  “Just a nice girl who might be in trouble, Dave.”

  He sat forward in his chair, grabbed a pen and pulled a pad of paper over.

  ’’What’s her name?”

  “Mary Clarke.”

  “What room is she in?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I came straight to you, Dave. I haven’t gone to the desk, yet.”

  “Okay.” He tore the sheet off the pad and stood up. “Lemme see what I can find out. Wait here.”

  “Thanks.” As he started for the door I said, “If you see a big guy in a wrinkled suit in the hall, he’s with me.”

  “Why’s he in the hall?”

  “He doesn’t like coppers, not even the hotel type.”

  “Can’t blame him,” he said. “Don’t like them much myself. Sit tight, Eddie.”

  He left the door open behind him. I heard him stop short outside, probably at the sight of Jerry. A moment later Jerry stuck his head in. “Where’s he goin’?”

  “To get us some information,” I said. “Come on in. He’s okay.”

  “What did he mean?”

  “About what?”

  Jerry came into the room.

  “He said you was right about my suit.”

  “Oh, that,” I answered. “I told him it was gray.”

  Ten

  JERRY AND I TALKED about the Caddy until Dave came back and closed the door.

  “Decided to come in?” he said to Jerry, who didn’t answer.

  “This is my friend Jerry,” I said. “Jerry, this is Dave.”

  “A pleasure,” Dave said.

  “Hey,” was all he got from Jerry.

  “Well,” Dave said, “your girl checked in two nights ago and nobody’s seen her since. She ain’t been in any of the restaurants, and she ain’t had room service. You wanna see her room?”

  “That’d be great, Dave. Thanks.”

  “Let’s go. Bring your friend.”

  We followed him to the main elevators and he took us up to one of the higher floors, where the suites were.

  “Whoever’s payin’ her bill ain’t cheap,” Dave said, as we walked down the hall. He had a house key, but he didn’t use it right away. He knocked first, waited, knocked a second time, then slid the key into the lock.

  Dave was right. Frank hadn’t scrimped on Mary Clarke’s room. It was one of the best, with a view of the desert for privacy.

  Jerry looked around. He didn’t say anything but I could see he was impressed. The suite was at least the size of the one Dean Martin had at the Sands.

  “How many bedrooms?” I asked Dave.

  “Only one, but it’s a big one, with a sunken bed.”

  “Can I look around?”

  “Ya want some privacy?” he asked. “Just pull the door closed when you leave and come back downstairs if ya need anything else.”

  “I’ll let you know when we’re done,” I promised.

  “Come down to the office or just dial nine-two.”

  “Thanks again, Dave.”

  “Guy on the desk said this girl was a knockout. Young, blonde, big knockers, kinda dumb.” Dave shrugged. “Sounds like every broad who comes to Vegas to me. But hey, to each his own. Good luck findin’ her for whoever she belongs to.” He looked at Jerry. “Nice meetin’ ya, big guy.”

  “Likewise.”

  Dave left, pulling the door tightly shut behind him.

  “I’m going to look around,” I said.

  “Want me ta do anything?”

  “No. Just sit tight. If I knew what I was looking for, I’d let you help me. Why don’t you have a drink?”

  He looked over at the bar.

  “I’m gonna be drivin’ your Caddy,” he said. “Mayb
e they got a coke.”

  I took a quick look around the huge room we were in, but there was nothing to even indicate that anyone had used it. I went down the hall next, to the bedroom and bathroom, and there I could see signs that a woman had used them. A suitcase was on the bed, open but still packed. Some toiletries were in the bathroom. Perfume, shampoo, comb, brush, hand mirror, nail stuff, she’d laid it all out. I went back to the suitcase and looked through it. She packed neatly: sweaters, blouses, skirts, a couple of pairs of slacks, and down beneath it all the lingerie. There were a couple of bras that told me she measured up to Jayne Mansfield or Mamie Van Doren pretty good. The entire suitcase smelled of her perfume. I didn’t know if it had spilled in transit, or if it was just that strong.

  I went through the suitcase a second time and was glad I did. In the lining I found a photo of Frank. Not a stock photo, but one that, if anybody saw it, they would know that she knew him. It was inscribed—I couldn’t read the handwriting—but I knew Frank’s signature. I folded it up good and stuck it in my jacket pocket. I didn’t know if her disappearance was going to end up a police matter. I was sure Frank would replace it. I’d apologize later.

  I went over to the phone and dialed nine-two. Dave answered. I asked him if the girl had made any calls, or received any.

  “She might have gotten a call, we can’t tell,” he said, “but we know she didn’t make any long distance ones. Might’ve called someone local.”

  “Okay, thanks. We’ll be out of here in about ten minutes.”

  “Find anything useful?”

  “Well, her suitcase is on the bed and hasn’t been completely unpacked. Was there any maid service up here?”

  “Lemme check. Stay there until I call back.”

  By the time the phone rang I was sitting at the bar with Jerry. He was drinking a Coke. I didn’t have anything.

  “The maid went in but the bed hadn’t been slept in and the towels hadn’t been used. She said the suitcase was still on the bed.”

  “That was yesterday morning?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, Dave, thanks again. If I think of anything else I’ll give you a call.”

  “Good luck.”

  Jerry finished his Coke, rinsed out the glass and put it back where he got it from behind the bar. I assumed the bottle was in the trash. “We done?” he asked.

  “We’re done.”

  “Find anything?”

  “Looks like she arrived, started to unpack, but something stopped her and she never got back to it. She never used the bed, and it looks like she never even came out here into this room.”

  “So whatta we do next?”

  “I think we need a real detective.”

  “Your friend Bardini?”

  I nodded.

  “My friend Bardini.”

  Eleven

  Luckily, the office of Bardini Investigations was on Fremont Street, right between The Fremont Casino and Binion’s Horseshoe, and above a gift shop. We walked down the block and stopped in front of the door marked 150.

  “Wait, we gotta get some coffee and tea.”

  “Tea?”

  “Penny—that’s Danny’s secretary—she drinks tea. I can’t walk in empty-handed or she’ll tear me a new one.”

  We went across the street, got three containers of coffee and one of tea, and then I led the way upstairs to the office.

  When we walked in I was disappointed to see that Penny’s desk was empty.

  “She’s not here.”

  “Too bad,” Jerry said. “I wanted to see the broad who scares you so much.”

  “Danny’s got to be in his office or the door woulda been locked.” I left the tea on her desk and walked past it to Danny’s door.

  “You in here?” I asked, opening it.

  “Where else would I be?” he called back from behind his desk. When he saw Big Jerry behind me he said, “ Yikes, the pancake man is back.”

  “Jerry’s helping me with an ... errand.”

  “An errand?” Danny asked. “For who?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Wait, don’t tell me,” he said. “I’m a detective, I’ve seen the posters and marquee down at the theater.”

  “Right.”

  He stood up and extended his hand to Jerry.

  “Nice to see you, big guy.”

  “You, too,” Jerry said. He shook hands then handed Danny a container. “One of these is for you.”

  “Thanks. My secretary is out today.”

  “Where is Penny?”

  “Went to see her sister in L.A., so I’m manning the office alone. Pull up some chairs, guys, and tell me how I can help.”

  We each pulled a chair over, sat and took the tops off our coffee containers. Briefly, I told Danny who we were looking for and what we had done so far. He didn’t interrupt, just listened.

  “Okay,” he said, when I was finished, “I’m gonna assume that this is all on the q.t., right?”

  “Definitely.”

  “And that Jerry knows everything?”

  “Jerry knows what you know,” I confirmed, which was also my way of telling him that Jerry didn’t know everything I knew and that I’d fill him in later.

  “Well, it sounds to me like you’ve done all you can do,” Danny said. “How well did you search the room?”

  “Uh, pretty well, I think—”

  “Closets, cabinets, the bathtub?”

  “Well, no ... I didn’t look in the closets or the bathtub.”

  “I know Dave Lewis, too,” he said. “I’ll get him to let me in. Maybe I can find something you didn’t. Talk to the parking attendants?”

  “No. I was going to do that next.” Parking attendants and valets were on my list. They were part of my network and I knew at least a few at each casino.

  “I’ll do it,” he said. “They’ll know if she caught a cab or not.”

  I noticed Danny wasn’t taking any notes. He was good that way, had a memory any cop would envy.

  “When’s the premier?” he asked.

  “August third.” Four days.

  “We got until then?”

  “At least.”

  “I better get on it.” He stood up. “Got a picture?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “but only one.”

  “I’ll take good care of it. I gotta have it to show around.”

  “Okay.”

  He looked at it, whistled and stuck it in his pocket. Jerry didn’t see, or even try to.

  “Am I gettin’ paid for this?” Danny asked.

  “I ain’t,” Jerry said.

  “Me, neither,” I said.

  Danny shrugged.

  “Just thought I’d ask.”

  “How about tickets to the movie and the show?” I asked.

  “That’ll do.”

  “Me, too,” Jerry said.

  “Well, of course, you too, Jerry,” Danny said. “Eddie and I wouldn’t go without you. What fun would that be?”

  Jerry looked at me.

  “Is he kiddin’ me?”

  “No, Jerry, he’s not kidding,” I said.

  He’d thought Danny was pulling his leg and was about to get mad. Once I convinced him it was no joke he relaxed.

  “Hey, Jerry,” Danny said. “Relax man. We’re all friends here, right?”

  “Sure,” Jerry said, eyeing Danny, “we’re friends.”

  “ ’Cause I’d sure hate to have you as an enemy, big guy.”

  Now Jerry smiled and it was scary.

  “Yeah,” he said, “you would.”

  Twelve

  DANNY CAME DOWN THE STAIRS with us after locking his office. On the street he told me he’d get back to me as soon as he could, then he slapped Jerry on the back and took off in the direction of the Golden Nugget.

  “Now what?” Jerry asked.

  “Why don’t we go to the Sands so you can change clothes?” I asked.

  “Am I gonna be stayin’ there or with you at your house?” he asked.
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  “Well, I don’t really think there’s any reason you have to stay with me, Jerry.”

  “You remember what happened last time?”

  “That was ... that was then, and this is now,” I said, with a shudder because I did remember last time, very well. “None of that’s gonna happen this time.”

  “Ya never know, Mr. G.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk about it on the way.”

  We retrieved the Caddy and drove to the Sands. I sent him up to his room to take a shower and get dressed, and to collect some clothes. We agreed that he’d keep some at my house, and some at the Sands, just in case. He said he had two bags with him, and he could pack one to take to my place.

  While Jerry went to change I made my way over to Jack Entratter’s office. I didn’t know if he knew about Jerry or not, but I wanted to drop in and give him the word. Last time he’d had to get Jerry out of jail. I just thought he’d be interested to know the big guy was back.

  Jack’s girl let me go right into his office. From the look on his face he wasn’t having a good day.

  “Jack.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he said, “don’t tell me you have some bad news to add to my morning.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Siddown!” he said, pointing to a chair. “I gotta bitch to somebody.”

  He went on to complain that three dealers were down with the flu, there was a flood on the second floor of the hotel, the kitchen did not get the shipment of steaks it was expecting ...

  “... and the Gaming Board wants to see me tomorrow morning at eight a.m.”

  “What do they want?”

  “What do they always want?” he asked. “They’re lookin’ for my license, and they wanna make me get up early. I don’t need this when we’re gettin’ ready to renovate the rooms!”

  He paused to take a breath, then grabbed a big Cuban and fired it up.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked, his head ensconced in a cloud of smoke.

  “I just thought you’d like to know that Jerry Epstein is in town.”

  “Epstein,” he repeated. “Who’s that?”

  “You remember,” I said, “he was here six months ago during the whole Dean Martin fiasco? You had to bail him out of jail?”