[Rat Pack 11] - I Only Have Lies for You Page 10
“And who’s watchin’ you?”
”We don’t know that the guy is in Vegas,” I said. “If he is — and this is according to Gleason — then he’s following Marilyn.”
“So now we think he’s more interested in her than you?” Danny asked.
“Looks like it. At least, for now.”
“So we need to know if a professional hitman has come to Vegas in the past.. .what? Day?”
“If he’s followin’ them, then he came in last night.”
“Depends on how he’s followin’ them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes the best way to tail somebody is in front of them.”
“So you’re sayin’ if he knew they were coming here, he may have come in ahead of them.”
“Right.”
“So then we need to look and see if he came in within the past two days.”
“It makes sense. I’ve got some contact at McCarron I’ll check with them, but I’ll need a description of the guy.”
“We don’t have that,” I said. “I never saw him.”
“What about Jackie and Marilyn?”
“Glimpses, maybe.”
“Then I don’t know who I’m lookin’ for.”
“Somebody antsy... nervous?”
“No, a pro is calm, smooth as ice”
“Okay, so look for somebody like that.”
“All right,” he said, with a sigh, “buy me breakfast and then I’ll have a crack at it. At least we only have to deal with flights coming in from Miami.”
***
After breakfast, we walked out into the hotel lobby.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “If I leave you here, you’ve got no back-up.”
“Like we said,” I reminded him, “the guy’s probably followin’ Jackie and Marilyn.”
“If anything happens to you,” Danny said, “I’m gonna have a lot of explainin’ to do to Jerry.”
“I should be okay today,” I said. “Let’s risk it.”
“I’ll be back quick,” he promised.
As he went out the door a bell boy came running up to me.
“Mr. Entratter’s lookin’ for you, Mr. G.,” he said.
“Thanks, Billy.”
I took the elevator and entered Entratter’s outer office.
“He’s looking for you, Eddie,” Wendy said.
I waved and said, “That’s why I’m here.”
“Go on in, then.”
“Eddie!” he snapped, as I entered. “Have a seat, boy!”
He was in a good mood, almost ebullient. This couldn’t be good.
“What’s goin’ on, Jack?” I asked, seating myself.
“I been talkin’ with Frank, Eddie. He’s gonna record a live album here at the Sands for his label.”
“That sounds great.”
“It is great!” he said, waving his arms. “Why aren’t you more excited?”
“What good is it gonna do me, Jack?” I asked. “I’m happy for you and Meyer and whoever else is gonna benefit from it.”
“He says he’s gonna get the Count and his band to accompany him and have Quincy Jones arrange it.”
I knew “the Count” was Count Basie. I wasn’t all that sure at the time who Quincy Jones was.
”When is this supposed to happen?” I asked because he wanted me to.
“Oh, it’ll take a while to get everybody’s schedule in sync,” he said, “so probably not til the end of the year.”
“That’s a long way off.”
“Yeah, it is,” he admitted, “but the important thing is it’s gonna happen.”
“If you say so, Jack.”
Entratter frowned at me.
“You still ticked off at Frank for the Gleason thing?”
“What makes these guys think I can do anything about a professional hitman bein’ on the loose.”
“Maybe because you have a reputation for gettin’ things done, no matter how hard they are?” he said. “Maybe because somebody’s always talkin’ you up.”
“You mean Frank and Dino?”
“I mean me, asshole!” Entratter said. “Eddie, you’re the guy—“
“Oh Jesus,” I said. “there’s that word again. Jackie keeps tellin’ me that.”
“That’s because it’s true,” Jack said. “And when you use Big Jerry and your P.I. pal, Bardini, nothin’s too hard for you to get done. It doesn’t matter who you’re goin’ up against—Mo-Mo, the Kennedys, or a hitman.”
I hadn’t really gone up against “Mo-Mo” Giancana and the Kennedys, but I did manage to get my way with them a time or two.
“Where do we stand with Gleason, anyway?” he asked.
“He’s in a suite, takin’ a look at the town—the Flamingo, the Dunes—with Marilyn—“
“Then why are you here?”
“Jerry’s watching them,” I said, “trying to determine whether or not they’re really being followed.”
”So who’s watchin’ you? Bardini?”
“He’s checkin’ with a contact at the airport to see if maybe a pro was seen comin’ in on a flight.”
“So nobody’s watchin’ your back?’
“Not at the moment, but Jackie’s worried that the guy’s following Marilyn. If that’s the case, then he’s not worried about me.”
“Yet.”
“Yeah, yet.”
“You know, I made a few calls, but didn’t come up with a name for a guy operatin’ in Miami.”
“Maybe he’s not connected,” I said. “Might be completely freelance.”
“He’d have to be good to go unnoticed.”
“If only I’d turned my head for a second in Miami and gotten a glimpse of him.”
“If you did, you’d probably be dead.”
“Guess you’re right.”
“Well, okay then,” he said, “I just wanted to tell somebody the news, somebody who knew Frank, and what this would mean to the Sands.”
“It’s exciting news, Jack,” I said, “it really is. And as far as bein’ pissed at Frank, I’ll get over it.”
“You’d better,” Entratter said “He don’t take kindly to his friends bein’ pissed off at him. It tends to piss him off. And you know what can happen then. Just ask Lawford.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” I said. “Is he still in Tahoe?”
“Been there all week,” Jack said. “All right, go back to work. I just wanted to share the news with somebody who’d appreciate it.”
I stood up. “I do appreciate it. I just have a lot of other, more immediate business on my mind.”
“Then what are you doin’ here?” he asked. “Go take care of it!”
THIRTY TWO
I went back down to the casino floor, wondering what Jackie and Marilyn were up to, hoping Jerry was staying close, and anything for Danny to come back with some information.
Meanwhile, the safest place for me, without Jerry or Danny to watch my back, was the Sands, my home turf. At least, I thought I was safe. When I got off the elevator, before I could get from the hotel lobby to the casino floor, I saw two men enter through the front doors. I knew them both, disliked one of them, intensely.
It was clear they were headed for the casino, so I moved to cut them off. When they saw me coming, they stopped.
“Look who we ran into,” Detective Hargrove said. “Saves us the trouble of hunting you up, Gianelli.”
I ignored him and looked at Detective Eisman, of the Miami Beach police. “You’re keeping bad company, Detective.”
“He’s goin’ by the book, Eddie,” Hargrove said, not letting Eisman answer. “Came to town on business and contacted us. And when I heard that his business involved you, well, I just volunteered to be helpful.”
“’Helpful,’” I repeated. “Not one of the words I would’ve used to describe you, Hargrove.”
“So I guess you two know each other pretty well,” Eisman said.
“Well enough to dislike each other,” I said.
“I will,” Eisman said. “Thanks.”
“Just doin’ my job,” Hargrove said and left the two of us standing there.
“There has to be a very interesting history between you two,” Detective Eisman said.
“I’ll tell you about it, some time.”
“Meanwhile, can we talk, somewhere?” Eisman asked me.
“Come on,” I said, “I’ll buy you a drink.”
He followed me across the casino floor and into the lounge. As we took two stools at the bar he stared at the mural on the wall behind it.
“Las Vegas,” he said, shaking his head.
“You don’t like our town?”
“On the contrary,” Eisman said, “I’ve been here a few times on vacation. I find the excesses almost welcoming. Except for the gambling, it’s almost like Miami Beach.”
“But no beach, just desert.
“Yeah,” Eisman said, “that, too.”
“Beer?”
“Sure.”
I held two fingers up to the bartender, pointed to the beer taps. He nodded, drew two and brought them over.
“So, what gives?” I asked him. “What brings you to Vegas looking for me?”
“Our investigation into the murder in the elevator floundered,” he said. “I tried everything to give it a kick, but this was the only thing I could think of.”
“What was? Coming here and talking to me?”
“I figure you’ve had time to think it over,” Eisman said. “There must be something you either saw or heard that can help.”
“I have been thinking about it,” I said. “And I’ve been waiting for him to show up here. I even have a bodyguard, and a detective looking for him. On top of that, Gleason is here and with Marilyn Taylor. They arrived a day before you.”
“What are they doing here?”
“They seem to think the hitman is following her.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Jackie thinks he may have a thing for Marilyn.”
“You mean he fulfilled his contract, but fell in love?” Eisman asked.
“That’s his idea.”
“Jesus.” Eisman shook his head. “I guess it’s possible. A hitman in love. Who woulda thunk it.”
“Not me,” I said. “That wasn’t the feeling I got about him from our brief exchange.”
“So then they think he’s going to follow them here,” Eisman said. “What does Gleason want you to do. Go up against a pro?”
“That’s exactly what he wants me to do.”
“And you’re going to do it?”
“I told you,” I said. “I’ve got help, and they’re both pros in their own right.”
“This should be interesting, then,” Eisman said. “Maybe I should stick around and watch.”
“Don’t you have to go back to work?”
“I actually had to take some time off in order to come here,” Eisman said. “My bosses wanted me to move on to other cases. So I took the time I had coming to me. Technically, I’m on vacation.”
“Well, hanging around is up to you, then,” I said, “but did you tell Hargrove you were on leave?”
“No,” Eisman said, “I neglected to mention that part. But rest assured, I still have my badge.”
“But no authority,” I added.
Eisman finished his beer, set the empty mug down and asked, “How much authority do I need to observe?” he got down off his stool. “I’ll be around,”
He left the lounge, and I finished my beer.
THIRTY THREE
Truth be told I didn’t really give much credence to the possibility that the hitman had fallen for Marilyn Taylor. She was a good-looking woman, there was no doubt about that, but to think that she had caught the fancy of a professional killer while he was on a job was ludicrous. If he was on her trail, then there was some other reason—no matter what Jackie Gleason thought.
But whatever the reason was we had to find out if the hitman was in Vegas. Only I was out of the action for the moment, so I turned my attention to my real job.
During the course of the day I approved new credit limits for half a dozen regulars—including the singer, Julius LaRosa--sent show tickets to three couples who were staying with us, supplied girls for two high rollers, ordered flowers for the wife of another, and arranged dinner for still two other couples, one of which was Steve and Eydie.
I was back in the bar, this time having a bourbon rather than a beer when Jerry came walking in.
“Where’s Jackie?” I asked.
“They’re back in their suite,” he said.
“You want a beer?”
He hesitated, then said, “A small one.”
The bartender brought it and Jerry took a stool next to me.
“How did the day go?”
“Fine, I guess,” Jerry said. “Mr. Gleason did some gambling, and Miss Taylor stood by his side the whole time. Then she wanted to look at some shops, and he went with her.”
“So they stayed together the whole time?”
“Yep,” he said, “the whole time.”
“And did you see anybody taking an interest in them?” I asked.
“Nobody,” Jerry said, “except, of course, lots of people recognized Mr. Gleason. Some of them went up to him for autographs. I almost stopped a couple of them, but there was no trouble. What about here?”
“I asked Danny to check with the airport, see if anybody noticed someone squirrely comin’ in.”
“A pro ain’t gonna fly and look squirrely,” Jerry said, “unless he’s afraid of flyin’.”
“No harm in checking. Oh, and I had a surprise visitor.”
“Who?”
“The detective from Miami Beach who’s working on the murder.”
“What did he want?”
“He’s having trouble with his case, thought he might up start it by coming here and talking to me.”
“Did it help?”
“I don’t think so, but he’s on vacation, so he’s gonna stick around a while.”
“Did he come alone?”
“Came from Miami alone,” I said, “but Hargrove brought him here.”
“That sonofabitch?”
“He didn’t stay long,” I said, “just made some snide remarks and left.”
“When’s that department gonna catch on and let him go?” Jerry asked.
“Who knows?” I said.
“Well, it ain’t gonna happen today,” Jerry said.
“What makes you say that?” I asked, looking into my glass.
“Because here he comes,” Jerry said, “and he don’t look happy.”
I looked up and saw Hargrove coming toward me with another man in plain clothes, and two uniformed cops.
“Another new partner, Hargrove?” I asked. “They’re starting to get fed up real quick.”
“Not a time for jokes, Eddie,” he said. “You’re comin’ with me.”
“What for?”
“Questioning.”
“About what?”
“Murder.”
“What murder?”
“Your buddy.”
My stomach dropped, and I went cold all over.
“Danny?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “not your dick buddy, your Miami cop buddy, Eisman.”
“Eisman’s dead?”
“Killed,” Hargrove said, “and, my guess is, you’re the last one who saw him alive.”
THIRTY FOUR
Hargrove wouldn’t let Jerry come with me, so the big guy followed in my Caddy.
As usual, they stuck me in an interrogation room and left me alone for a while. Finally, Hargrove came in with his new partner, a fortyish guy who looked like a department lifer. His name was Everett.
“No coffee?” I asked as they ente
red empty-handed.
“This ain’t a diner,” Hargrove said. He sat across from me while Everett held up a wall with his arms folded.
“Tell me about Eisman,” Hargrove said.
“Not much to tell. I found a body in Miami, and Eisman caught the case.”
“And he let you leave town?”
“I wasn’t a suspect,” I said. “I was a witness. I told him what I knew.” I didn’t tell Hargrove about my meeting with the hitman. Fuck ‘im.
“So what did he come here for?”
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“He just came here, identified himself, and said he was lookin’ for you. I figured he wanted to throw your ass in jail.”
“Not the case.”
“Too bad,” Hargrove said. “Maybe he’d still be alive.”
“How did he die?” I asked. “And where?”
“He was staying at a hotel off the strip. He was found there, stabbed to death.”
“In his room?”
“No,” Hargrove said, “A guest went for ice, and found Eisman in the ice machine.”
“Jesus. When was he killed?”
“The body was cold, so he must’ve been in the machine for hours, but since you saw him this morning, he was killed between then and now.”
“Brilliant.”
“The M.E. will pinpoint it when he can, but we’re only dealin’ with hours.”
“He was stabbed, you say?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s how the guy in Miami was killed.”
Hargrove sat back. Either he never thought I did it, or he was starting to think I didn’t.
“Can you tell me anything else about the Miami case?”
“They figured the guy was killed by a hitman.”
“A pro?”
I nodded.
“A pro who uses a blade,” Everett said. “That’s unusual. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Fine,” Hargrove said, and his partner left the room.
“What else can you tell me?”
I kept my mouth shut about Gleason and Marilyn Taylor. That was part of my job, to see that guests of the Sands didn’t get hassled by the police.
“Not much.”
“What did Eisman say?”
I shrugged. “He said the trail went cold in Miami. He thought there might be something else I remembered that might help him. I told him there was nothing. He said he thought maybe the hitman might come here for me, so he was gonna stick around for a while.”