[Rat Pack 02] - Luck Be a Lady, Don't Die Page 17

  The three of us walked through the D.I. to the front door and stepped outside together.

  “I’ll call you,” Danny promised me. “So long, Gunsel. Keep our boy safe.”

  “That’s my job, dick.”

  Danny laughed and went back inside. It was then I remembered he said he had to see somebody at the Desert Inn.

  “That guy gets lots of broads, huh?”

  “Plenty.”

  Jerry looked at me and grinned.

  “But you got the girl last night, huh?” he said. “You tell ’im?” I couldn’t help but grin back.

  “He dragged it out of me.”

  Fifty

  WHEN WE GOT IN the Caddy, Jerry started the motor and asked, “Where to?”

  I was momentarily stumped.

  “Mr. G.?”

  “I’m thinking, Jerry.”

  “It’s hot,” he said. “Can we go someplace where you can think inside? Why’s it always so hot here?”

  “If you’d take your jacket off you wouldn’t be so hot.”

  “I’m packin’ my piece.”

  “I know.”

  He sat quietly while the motor purred.

  “Car’s runnin’ great,” he said.

  “I’ve got a guy who takes good care of it.”

  “You don’t do it yourself?”

  “No,” I said. “I can change the oil and replace spark plugs, but that’s about it.”

  “Man, a car like this you gotta take care of it yerself.” He caressed the steering wheel.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll learn.”

  “You sure your guy is good?”

  “Listen to the engine.”

  “I got a guy in Brooklyn,” he said, “he’s the best. I’ll bet he could recommend somebody—”

  “I told you, Jerry, I’ve got a guy.”

  But he dug into his pocket anyway for his guy’s address and phone number, and as he pulled his hand out something fell onto the seat between us.

  “What’s this?” I picked it up. It looked like a plane ticket stub. “Is this yours?”

  “Aw, hell, I forgot,” he said. “I picked that up off the floor in your girl’s room. It’s just the stub, it ain’t her return ticket, or nothin’.” Plane tickets are issued with several copies, and although this looked like the bottom copy and was faint, I could read her name, her flight number, the time and the date of her flight.

  The date ...

  “Jerry, you picked this up off the floor of her room?” I asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Why?”

  “It was next to the wastebasket. I figured she threw it out, and I just stuck it in my pocket. I didn’t find nothin’ else, Mr. G. I figured I might as well take somethin’. Why, is it important?”

  “Important?” I asked. “Jerry, I think this is the piece of the puzzle.”

  “What puzzle?”

  “The puzzle that will tell us who’s been jerkin’ who around.”

  “Mr. G., you’re talkin’ too fast.”

  “According to this ticket stub Miss Lily D’Angeli flew into Vegas on the same day her sister checked into the Golden Nugget.”

  “I still don’t—”

  “She told us she got here yesterday,” I said. “According to this she’s been in Vegas for days.”

  “Well... I guess that is important.”

  “Let’s get back to the Sands, Jerry,” I said, “and we’ll find out just how important.”

  He put the car in drive and said, “But Mr. G.—”

  “Yeah?”

  “Didn’t you talk to her on the phone in Chicago?” he asked. “How could you’ve done that if she was here?”

  I closed my eyes and pressed the ticket stub to my forehead, as if the answer would come to me that way.

  “Jerry,” I said, “my friend, I keep tellin’ you you’re smarter than you think.”

  Fifty-One

  DESPITE THE FACT that Jerry made a very good point I was sure we had found something that would help clear this mess up. I had a feeling these sisters were working some kind of a scam, only I couldn’t think what it might be. And just who were they scamming?

  We parked in the back of the Sands again and hurried inside. I didn’t know why I was running, I just felt a sense of urgency.

  As we headed for the elevator the concierge cut us off.

  “Eddie, I’ve been lookin’ for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Your girl,” he said. “She’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Took her money out of the safe and left.”

  “Fuck!” I snapped.

  “Wha—”

  “When did she leave?”

  “About an hour ago. The front desk told me to find you. I guess they didn’t want to give her the money without you, but when I couldn’t locate you they had to. I mean ... it was hers, right?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of. Wha—”

  “Forget it, Charlie,” I said. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  “Sure.”

  I turned to Jerry and again said, “Fuck. Now we’ve got to find both sisters.”

  “Both of ’em?”

  “They’re playin’ us, Jerry. I don’t know how or why, but they are. Look, you’ve got to do something for me. I have to get back to the D.I. before Danny leaves. There’s something else I’ve got to ask him.”

  “But I gotta come with you—”

  “No, you have to check on Frank.”

  “Mr. S.?”

  “I want to make sure he’s okay. I don’t know why Lily came here, and I don’t know why she left so quickly, but I want to make sure she didn’t get to Frank.”

  “Mr. G., if somethin’ happens ta you—”

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” I said. “I promise. In fact, I’ll call the D.I. and try to catch Danny.”

  “Okay, then—”

  “Go,” I said. “I’ll be here in the lobby when you get back.”

  He ran for the elevators. I went to a house phone and got an outside line to the D.I. Once connected I asked them to page Danny Bar-ini, while I waited on the line. I was still waiting when Jerry came back.

  “We may have to go and find Danny,” I said. “How’s Frank?”

  “George said he’s at the theater for a final run-through,” Jerry said. “Him and Mr. Martin, and Sammy and—”

  “Hello? Danny?”

  “What the hell?” Danny’s voice came over the line. “Didn’t we just—”

  “Listen, Danny, the girl’s gone. She got her money and took off.”

  “What the fuck,” he said. “Now you’ve got to find both of them.”

  “I know, but I need you to do something else for me. The girl said she’s a bookkeeper in Chicago. I want you to find out who for. Who her boss is.”

  “You don’t want much. All we’ve got is a name—and maybe that’s not real.”

  “I think it is. I’ve got it on an airline ticket stub.”

  “That doesn’t mean—”

  “I know, I know, but it’s all we’ve got.” I explained to him about the date on the stub.

  “Okay, they’re playin’ some kinda game,” he said. “I’ll call the other hotels and see if she ever checked in to any of them. What the hell was she playin’ at comin’ to the Sands to find you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’ll ask when we find her.”

  “And her sister,” Danny said. “I’m givin’ this my full attention now, Eddie.”

  “Thanks, Danny.”

  I hung up and looked at Jerry.

  “Now what?”

  “Let’s get down to Fremont Street,” I said. “I still want to check on Frank.”

  “Will we get in if we don’t call ahead?” he asked as we headed for the car.

  “Let’s hope the same guys are still at the door when we get there.”

  * * *

  The same guys were not at the door when we got to the Fremo
nt Theatre, so I had to convince the guard to go inside and check that everyone was all right. When he came back he said sheepishly, “Mr. Sinatra says to let you in.”

  “Thanks.”

  As we entered the theater Jerry said, “I coulda got us in.”

  “I know.”

  “Just smack the shit outta him and walk right by,” he added.

  “I got it, Jerry. That might’ve been quicker, but this was easier.” In the theater a dress rehearsal was going on and the Sinatra who approached us was decked out in full tux.

  “What’s goin’ on, Eddie?” he asked.

  “Have you seen Lily, Mary’s sister?”

  “No,” he said, “I told you—”

  “I mean today, either at the hotel or here?”

  “No,” he said. “Why would she come here?”

  “What about Mary?” I asked. “This is important, Frank. Have you heard from her?”

  “If I heard from her why wouldn’t I tell you?” he demanded. “I’m the one who asked you to find her, remember? What’s goin’ on with you, Eddie?” He looked at Jerry, as if he had the answers, but got nothing back, not even a shrug.

  “Frank, I’m thinking these two girls are trying to pull something.”

  “Girls? You mean Mary and her sister?” He looked at me as if I was crazy. “What would they be tryin’ to pull? Mary’s the one in trouble.”

  “Somebody may be trying to kill her, but the sister is involved, somehow. She showed up here claiming to have just arrived, but she’s been here for days. And now she’s disappeared, too.”

  “Look, I’ve got to rehearse this show,” he said, jerking his thumb at the stage. At the moment Sammy Davis was tap dancing while Dino, Joey and Peter Lawford watched him. “We’ll be here most of the morning. If you find out anything call me. Otherwise I’ll be in my suite until show time.”

  He looked at Jerry again, but got stonewalled. As he turned and walked back to the stage it was the first time I ever really felt that Jerry was totally on my side, and not conflicted between me, Frank and MoMo.

  “Let’s go,” I said, and Jerry followed me up the aisle and out, giving the guard a good, hard look on the way.

  Fifty-Two

  I FELT LIKE I was going in circles. How many more times could I ask Frank Sinatra if he’d seen or heard from his girl? He was right, if he had heard he would have told me. I was just spinning my wheels because I didn’t know what the hell to do.

  “What about the money?” Jerry asked.

  “Hmm? What money?” I was leaning on my arm, looking at the passing scenery without seeing it.

  “The Western Union money,” he said. “The money the sister sent?” I turned my head and looked at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I don’t think there is any money, Jerry,” I said. “At least, not a lot.”

  “But when we went to the office the guy told you there was.”

  “I think Lily sent some money for us to watch, and chase,” I said. “I don’t think Mary ever intended to pick it up.”

  “They were just tryin’ ta get you out of the way?”

  “Me, or whoever was looking for her. I don’t think they knew who it was until I told them.”

  “When you called her in Chicago?”

  And there was that problem again. How could I have spoken to Lily in Chicago if she was in Vegas?

  Well, the easiest answers are the best, so it probably wasn’t Lily I had spoken to, but someone else. A third girl in on ... on whatever it was they were in on.

  “Three broads?” Jerry said when I told him my thoughts. “That’s way out there, Mr. G., what kinda scam could they be pullin’?”

  “The best kind, Jerry,” I said. “They’re scamming somebody for money.”

  “Better not be Mr. Giancana,” he said. “He wouldn’t like that.”

  “Not Giancana,” I said, “and not Frank. Somebody else.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like maybe Lily’s boyfriend’s boss, if she was telling the truth about him.”

  “You think she stole his money and he sent those boys here to get it back, and kill her . . . and her sister?”

  Scenarios were swirling in my head, now. What if Mary was the innocent sister when it came to the cash? What if she really did come here just to see Frank, but the sister came barging in with the money, and a couple of torpedoes on her ass?

  “Ah, what do I look like, a detective?” I asked. “Maybe the guy’s wife found out they were playin’ slap-and-tickle at work and she sent those hitmen.”

  “A woman would do that,” Jerry said. “Women are meaner than men, ya know?”

  I stared at him.

  “It’s a fact.”

  “Sometimes you scare me, Jerry.”

  He sulked for a minute then said, “I know some stuff.”

  * * *

  Back at the Sands I checked in for messages with the desk staff of the hotel. I was hoping to hear from Danny as soon as possible. There were none. I decided to make some phone calls and for that I needed a desk.

  “I have to go upstairs and borrow somebody’s desk,” I told Jerry. “You want to hang around down here?”

  “And do what?”

  “Play the horses?”

  “Don’t feel like it.”

  “Watch some blackjack?”

  His eyes brightened.

  “I could go stare at that guy some more for ya.”

  “There’s an idea,” I said. “Do that for a while, then go into the lounge and wait for me. Buddy Hackett’s gonna be in there tonight.”

  “He’s funny,” Jerry said. “I ain’t never seen him in person, though.”

  “He’s even funnier,” I said. “So I’ll meet you in the lounge.”

  “When?”

  “Give me an hour.”

  “Who ya gonna call?”

  “I’m going to check on this airline stub,” I said. “And a few other things.”

  “What floor are ya gonna be on? Just in case.”

  I told him the offices of the hotel and casino were on the second floor. He headed into the casino and I went to the elevator.

  Marcia Clarkson was pretty despite brown hair that was always kind of frizzy. She wore thick glasses but they only served to magnify the beautiful blue of her eyes. In her mid-thirties, one might have called her mousy, but I knew her better than most. We’d gone out a few times and now we were friends.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I said, sticking my head in her office.

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  “A desk and a phone for about an hour,” I said, easing into the room. “That’s all.”

  “You gonna call that rat?”

  I had fixed her up with Danny Bardini six months ago and that hadn’t gone well.

  “No,” I said, “I’m not going to call Danny. I swear.”

  “Use that one in the corner,” she said, pointing with her pen. “It’s empty. We’re still trying to hire somebody.”

  “Thanks, Marcia,” I said. “You’re the best.”

  “Yeah, yeah, just don’t try to fix me up with any more of your friends.” Her tone was stern but I saw a hint of a smile on her face.

  “Scouts honor,” I said. “Never again.”

  “Were you ever a Scout?” she asked.

  “In Brooklyn?” I asked. “That’s what you do right after you join a gang.”

  I walked over to the empty desk, sat down and pulled out the airline ticket stub. She had flown in on Pan Am, and I could make out a phone number for them in faint blue print.

  I made the call and after being passed on several times I finally determined that a Lily D’Angeli did fly in on that flight from Chicago on July twentieth. When I asked if someone could describe her to me I was told that no one could. Apparently, that wasn’t part of their job.

  “What if I was a policeman?” I asked.

  “If you were,” the woman on the other end said dryly, “you would’ve said so in
the first place.”

  “Listen—” I started, but she hung up. I stared at the phone for a few seconds, than slammed it down.

  “Girl trouble?” Marcia asked.

  “You might say that.”

  “She hung up on you?”

  “That was Pan Am,” I said. “One of their rude employees. I think I’ll make a complaint.”

  I picked up the phone and dialed Danny’s number, even though I’d told Marcia I wasn’t going to. It didn’t matter because he didn’t answer.

  I hung up and stared into space.

  “Earth to Eddie.”

  I looked over at Marcia.

  “Poor Eddie,” she said, leaning her elbows on her desk, “you look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  Before I could answer, a man walked in, looked at Marcia, winked, then looked over at me.

  “They told me you might be up here, pally,” Dean Martin said.

  Fifty-Three

  “HEY, DEAN.”

  He looked back at Marcia again, who was staring at him with her mouth open.

  “Don’t I know you?” he asked.

  “M-me?”

  “I never forget a pretty girl,” he told her. “You came to one of my shows? Came backstage?”

  “S-s-six months ago,” she said. “You and ... the others. You remember that?”

  “You were with his friend,” Dino said, pointing first to her and then to me. “The private eye.”

  “More like private rat,” she said, then quickly added, “oh, no offense, Mr. Martin.”

  “Dean,” he said, “call me Dean, and none taken. We don’t even call ourselves by that name. That’s all in the tabloids.” He stared at her some more, then asked, “Marcia, right?”

  She looked like she was going to faint.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Marcia, can I talk to our friend here in private for a minute?”

  “Private? Oh, oh, of course.”

  She stood up and came around the desk. As she approached Dean and the door he grabbed her hand and kissed it.

  “Thanks, doll.”

  I had the feeling I was going to be forgiven for setting Marcia up with Danny.

  After she left, Dean closed the door. There were two other desks in the room besides mine. We were in the offices of the employment department. Apparently, everyone was out except Marcia—who actually ran the whole place.