Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand) (5 page)

“I never saw people so anxious to lose their money than in this burg,” he said.

“That’s what this burg is for.”

“That why you came here the first time?” he asked. “To lose money?”

“It wasn’t my intention,” I answered, “but that’s the way it went down.”

“Guess you was pretty smart to get on the other side, huh?”

“I wanted to live here,” I told him, “and I couldn’t have done that if I kept on gambling. So I got a job, and pretty soon I found out it wasn’t the gambling I liked, it was just the overall atmosphere.”

“Still pretty smart,” he said.

When we got to the parking lot he easily installed his suitcase in the trunk of my Caddy and I tossed him the keys. He said he remembered the way to the strip, and we were off.

“You know, Mr. G.,” he said, keeping his eye on the road, “I really think you coulda done this thing by yerself.”

“You think so?”

“You handled yerself pretty well last year,” he said, “both times.”

“Why did you come, then?”

“Well, first, you asked me.”

“And second?”

He tapped the steering wheel.

“I really wanted to drive your car again.”

I got Jerry checked in, we dropped his bag in his room, and then went to the Garden Room.

“They gave me somethin’ on the plane, but I’m starvin’,” he said as we sat down.

A waitress came over and, since it wasn’t yet noon, we ordered two steak-and-egg breakfasts. I’d only had a cup of coffee before leaving for the airport. She quickly brought us two cups, and a large orange juice for Jerry.

“Okay, Mr. G.,” he said, “start from the beginning and tell me as much as you want to.”

“Jerry, I can’t—”

“I know you can’t tell me everything,” Jerry said. “I’m used ta that. Just tell me what I need ta know.”

I’d almost forgotten that Jerry was much smarter than he usually let on.

I told him about going to dinner with Joey and Buddy Hackett, about Joey delivering Frank’s message and my flying to Tahoe. The
waitress came with our breakfasts and I gave him the rest while we ate.

“Yeah,” he said, when I was done, “sounds like you got a rat on the inside somewhere, either somebody workin’ for Mr. S. or somebody workin’ for Mr. Davis.” Then he peered across the table at me. “You ain’t said nothin’ to nobody, have you, Mr. G.?”

“Not a peep,” I said. “I haven’t even told you the whole story.”

“I was just kiddin’ around with you,” he said. “I know you wouldn’t let nothin’ slip.”

We had some coffee and Jerry had two pieces of apple pie.

“Are you full yet?” I asked.

“That should hold me for a while,” he said. “So what do we do between now and the meet?”

I sat back.

“I’ve never done this before. Have you?”

“I ain’t never made a blackmail payoff before,” he said, “but I been to some meets.”

“What did you do leading up to them?”

“I went and checked out the places that was picked,” Jerry explained. “You never wanna walk into a situation like that blind.”

“That sounds like a sound idea.”

“And you wanna do it in the daylight,” Jerry added, “because the meet’s gonna take place at night.”

“Well, why don’t we go and do that right now?” I proposed.

“I drive?” he asked, brightening.

“Yep,” I said, “you drive.”

J
UST BLOCKS AWAY FROM
the glitz and glamour of the Las Vegas strip the town can change drastically. Industrial Road is one of those streets. In fact, Jerry and I had already had an experience along that road, finding a body in a Dumpster while we were trying to find out who was threatening Dino last year.

“This looks familiar,” Jerry said.

I told him and he nodded.

“This is in a different area, though,” I said. “Much worse.”

“I can see that,” he said. As we drove along, the conditions worsened. Still warehouses and other businesses, but a lot of the “transactions” being done in parking lots and back alleys—you get my drift.

“Over there,” I said. “Pull in.”

Jerry turned into the parking lot and cut the engine. We were looking at an abandoned warehouse with a large, crumbling parking lot and an open field behind it. There were some rusted out Dumpsters, but not much else in the way of cover. There were also plenty of beer cans and food wrappers against the walls.

“The roof,” Jerry said.

“What?”

“If they get here first they can put somebody on the roof.”

“Like … with a rifle?”

“That’s what I mean.”

“But why?” I asked. “We’re just makin’ an exchange, right?”

“As far as anybody knows,” Jerry said, “but Mr. G., these people are gonna be careful. They don’t know if you’re gonna show up with the cops.”

“You know,” I said, “I may be too naïve for this stuff.”

“You live in Vegas,” Jerry said. “You ain’t naïve, you just ain’t had all the good kicked outta ya yet.”

“I’ve been here thirteen years.”

Jerry shrugged.

“Maybe you had a lotta good in you.” He slapped me on the back. “But don’t worry, we’ll make a thug outta you, yet.”

“So what do we do?” I asked. “We’re going to be out in the open here.”

“Not we,” he said, “you.”

“But I asked you here to … to back me up.”

“I can watch your back without bein’ out in the open with you,” he said.

“So what do you suggest we do?”

“The meeting is set for after dark,” he said. “There are no lights here, so they’re probably counting on car lights—yours and theirs. You’ll have to drop me further down the street and I’ll come the rest of the way on foot.”

“What about the trunk?” I asked. “You could be in the trunk.”

“Even your car doesn’t have a trunk big enough for me,” he said. “Besides, they might check it.”

“So where will you be?”

“Out there.” He pointed to the field behind the parking lot.

“In the open?”

“In the open in the dark,” he said. “They won’t see me.”

“What about the moon?”

“That’s a chance I’ll take,” he said. “What’s the moon been like, lately?”

I had to admit that I hadn’t noticed.

“Well,” Jerry said, “we’ll know before we come out here.”

“What if they get here first?”

“They will,” he said, “but like I said, they’ll have a man on the roof, or in one of these Dumpsters, and he’s gonna be watchin’ you.”

“So that’s it?” I asked. “Now we just wait until tomorrow night?”

“We’ll take a drive around the building,” he said, turning the engine back on, “just to have a look.”

He drove completely around the building and we spotted several ways in—a front door, a back door, and a loading dock door, all closed.

“What if they take me inside?” I asked.

“They’ve got no reason to do anything to you, as long as you show up with the money,” Jerry said. “The only thing they might do is double-cross you and Mr. Davis by making copies of … of whatever it is you’re tryin’ to buy. So if they wanna take you inside, don’t panic.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“You hungry?” Jerry asked. “I’m hungry.”

“Sure, let’s go,” I said. “I know of a good diner right near here.”

“Y
OU KNOW,”
I said to Jerry when we reached the diner, “I think we spend half our time together with me watching you eat.”

“You eat, too,” Jerry said.

“Yeah, but you don’t watch me,” I said. “You’re so intent on your food.”

“And you don’t pay attention to your food?”

“I pay attention to a really good meal,” I said. “You pay attention to every meal.”

He looked confused.

“But every meal is a good meal,” he said.

“Come on,” I said, opening the car door, “I’ll buy you some fries.”

“I love fries….”

After Jerry had eaten his fill of fries—really good diner fries—we went back to the Sands.

“I’ve got some calls to make,” I said. “I can come with ya.”

“I don’t need you to watch my back, yet,” I said. “You remember where the race book is?”

“Oh, yeah.” His eyes lit up. “I remember.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, Mr. G.,” he said.

We split up. I went to Jack Entratter’s office to use his phone. His girl told me he wasn’t there, but she let me sit at an empty desk. I called Sammy in Tahoe, first.

“I made the arrangements for the money, Eddie,” Sammy said. He gave me the name of the bank and the man I should see when I got there.

“Have you heard anything else?” I asked.

“Not a peep,” he said. “No calls, no notes.”

“Okay, I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, man,” Sammy said. “I know I’m in good hands.”

I almost said, “I hope so,” but didn’t think that would go over real well.

After that I called Frank in Palm Springs and gave him a rundown.

“I’m glad you brought big Jerry into it, Eddie,” he said. “He’s a good man to have on your side.”

“I know it, Frank.”

“Listen, I’ll be back in Tahoe on Friday, so I’m gonna fly to Vegas for Dino’s show. Why don’t you and Sam meet me there?”

“Fine by me, Frank.”

“I’ll talk to Sammy,” he said. “See you then.”

When I hung up, Jack’s girl was waving me over to her desk.

“I’m not supposed to be taking your messages, you know,” she said.

“Messages? From who?”

“Just one,” she said. “And I only took it because it was Mr. Martin.”

“Dino?”

“He’d like you to have dinner with him tonight, if you have the time.”

“Dinner with Dean? Sure. I’ll call him—”

“I’ll return the message for you,” she said. “The Garden Room okay?”

“No,” I said, “I’ll take him someplace off the premises.”

“Our restaurants aren’t good enough for you?”

“I’ll call Dean—” I said, but she cut me off. “No,” she said, “I’d like to … please.”

That was when I realized how much she wanted to talk to him again.

“I’ll have a car out in front waiting for both of you,” she said. “Just tell me what time?”

“I tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t you work that out with Dino and let me know, huh?”

Her face brightened and she said, “I’ll call him back right now.”

“You do that,” I said. “Thanks for the phone.” I left her to her task and went to get Jerry out of the horse book. He was going to be disappointed my errands didn’t take longer.

“Want me to come into the bank with you?” he asked, as we pulled up outside.

“That’s okay,” I said. “You can wait out here.”

“How much money you pickin’ up, anyway?” he asked as I got out of the car.

“Fifty grand.”

“That’s all?” Jerry asked. “I thought they’d ask for more.”

Yeah, I thought, so did I.

When I came out of the bank I was carrying a brown manila envelope, slightly larger than a normal No. 10 white one, with fifty thousand-dollar bills in it. It was bound with a strong rubber band.

I got in the car and Jerry said, “That’s it? Fifty G’s?”

“This is it.” I tucked it inside my jacket.

I’d been concerned about carrying all that money, but I had been thinking about hundred-dollar bills. Obviously, Sammy had been thinking bigger than I had. He had arranged for the thousand-dollar bills. The only time we dealt with bills that large at the Sands was when our “whales” came to town. The bigger players liked the larger bills.

Jerry simply shrugged and said, “I thought it’d be bigger.”

W
HEN WE GOT BACK
to the Sands I told Jerry I was going to have dinner with Dean.

“So you’re on your own … unless you want to come with us?”

“Nope,” he said, “three’s a crowd. Don’t worry, I can occupy myself. Ain’t too hard in this town.”

“Okay, but stay out of trouble?”

“I always stay out of trouble, Mr. G.,” he said. “Fact is, whenever I do get in trouble in Vegas it seems to be your fault.”

He turned and walked away before I could respond.

I could have gone home to change my clothes, but decided I didn’t want to make the extra drive. Instead I went into the employees’ locker room, took a shower and changed into a suit I kept in my locker for these types of occasions.

Before leaving the locker room I called Jack’s girl and asked her where I was supposed to meet Dean.

“He said he’d meet you out front, in the car, in twenty minutes,” she said. “We didn’t think he should stand in the lobby. He’d be too conspicuous and people would bother him.”

“You both thought that, huh?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, and hung up.

I checked my watch. I had ten minutes to get to the waiting car. Maybe I’d beat Dean there.

When I went out the front door there was a black sedan parked in front. The driver got out and opened the door for me. I recognized him, but didn’t remember his name. He was apparently one of the drivers the Sands used for their guests.

As I slid into the back seat Dean smiled and said, “Hiya, pally.”

We went to the Sahara, where I’d eaten with Joey and Buddy, in their Congo Room. As usual Frank’s table was empty because he wasn’t there, but the waiter recognized both Dean and me and gave the table to us.

“I hear Frank’s in Tahoe,” Dean said, as we sat. “Sammy, too.”

“We’re all going to be at your show on Friday night,” I told him.

“That’s great,” Dino said. “I can drag those bums up on stage and make them do some of the work. But what do I do with you?”

“Just lay off me,” I said. “I’m nobody, and there won’t be anybody there who wants to hear about me.”

Dean laughed and we gave our order to the waiter, who had seen it all and was not impressed.

Dean talked about his series of TV specials and said that some people wanted him to do it regularly.

“A weekly show would keep me from making my films and doing my act,” he complained. “I’m not ready to settle into that grind.”

“You’d be a huge hit on TV.”

“You think so? It didn’t work for Nat Cole, and Frank tried it twice. And they’re great singers.”

“You’re a great singer, too, but they don’t have what you have.”

“And what’s that?”

“Likability.”

“Like a what?”