Read The Way You Die Tonight Online

Authors: Robert Randisi

The Way You Die Tonight (11 page)

‘I do lots of things for money, Mr G.,' he said. ‘But forget about that. It sure sounds like he don't think Hughes is gonna be real happy.'

‘Fuck it,' I said, ‘I've got too much to do to help him take over somebody's casino, because you know that's what he wants. He wants me to tell him what property is ripe for the pickin'. These people in Vegas are my friends, Jerry. Howard Hughes is nothing to me.'

‘Well,' Jerry said, ‘I just hope he takes your turn down in stride.'

‘What's he gonna do, send some muscles to convince me?'

‘I dunno, Mr G.,' Jerry said. ‘Does Howard Hughes hire muscle?'

I shrugged.

‘Well, then we better keep our eyes open,' he said. ‘It's a good thing you called me.'

‘Never mind Howard Hughes,' I said to him. ‘How would you like to meet Edward G. Robinson?'

‘I would love that,' he said, his eyes going wide. ‘Him and Cagney – and Bogey, of course – they're the best!'

‘OK, then,' I said, ‘let's go and get that done right now.'

TWENTY-EIGHT

‘I
thought we were gonna meet Mr Robinson,' Jerry said as we entered his suite.

‘I've got to make some calls, first,' I said. ‘I don't want to go to the fourth floor to use the phones, I don't want to use the phones in the lobby because it's too much like Grand Central Fucking Station, and I don't want to go home.

‘I was just askin'.'

‘It's OK,' I said.

He went to the bar and I went to the phone.

‘I just have to set it up for Robinson to watch a poker game tonight.'

‘That's what he's here for, right, just to watch?'

‘Watch, observe, learn,' I said.

‘A movie with him and Steve McQueen oughtta be real good,' Jerry said. ‘Especially with Ann-Margret in it. Hey, is she gonna—'

‘You met her last year,' I said. ‘You're not gonna get that lucky two years in a row.'

‘Just askin',' Jerry said, as I dialed. ‘Want a drink?'

‘Uh, yeah, I'll have a beer.'

Jerry brought me a bottle of Piels while I talked on the phone. I knew there was a high-stakes game in the hotel again that night. What I needed was permission to bring Edward G. Robinson up to watch. I started with Billy Pulaski, Jack's Head of Security.

‘I don't know, Eddie,' he said. ‘After what happened with Kendrick the other night—'

‘What did happen with him?' I asked. ‘I mean … did you fire him?'

‘Oh yeah,' Pulaski said, ‘so I'll be sittin' in on this game myself until I hire a new man.'

‘Well, that's great, Billy,' I said. ‘With you there we know things'll go OK.' I didn't mention the fact that it was me who kept the game from being robbed the other night.

‘I think I gotta check with Jack, Eddie.'

‘Sure, you do that.' I knew Jack would tell him to make it happen.

‘And the players?'

‘They wouldn't care as long as they get to play.'

‘Do that, too, and I'll get back to you,' I said, and hung up.

‘Problem?' Jerry asked. He was standing behind the bar with a bottle of beer in his big hand.

‘Security,' I said. ‘I told you about the attempted robbery. Pulaski is worried about it. He thinks bringing Robinson to the game might be a risk.'

‘Ain't you his boss?'

‘No,' I said. ‘Jack's his boss. He'll call Jack, and Entratter will tell him it's OK. Then he has to check with the players.'

‘Well, they won't say no to Edward G. Robinson, right?' Jerry asked. ‘Rico?'

‘I hope not,' I said.

‘So what do we got to do until then?' Jerry asked. ‘Get somethin' to eat?'

It had been a few hours since breakfast, so I said, ‘Yeah, sure, let's go downstairs and get something to eat.'

He went to the Garden Café. I didn't want to leave the building until I talked to Billy again. Or maybe I should have called Jack and suggested that he call Billy. No, that might make Billy think I was going over his head.

He sat in a booth and Jerry started looking over the menu. It hadn't changed since the last time he'd eaten there, but I let him look.

‘Hey, Eddie G.,' the waitress said. Her name was Lily, she'd been working there for about three months, which meant she'd never seen Jerry. ‘Who's your big friend?'

‘Jerry, meet Lily.'

‘Hi,' Jerry said.

Lily was attractive, thirty-five or so, with red hair, green eyes and a very flirtatious manner. She turned up the heat on those eyes when she looked at Jerry.

‘And what does Jerry want to drink?' she asked, smiling at him.

‘Coffee,' he said. ‘But I'll have a chocolate shake with my food.'

‘OK,' she said, ‘chocolate shake for the big guy.' She looked at me.

‘Iced tea.'

‘Comin' up.'

She walked away and Jerry watched her hips sway.

‘You like redheads?' I asked.

‘A lot.'

‘She's single and, supposedly, kind of wild.'

‘Naw,' Jerry said, turning his attention back to the menu. ‘I like red-headed whores.'

‘Jerry … have you ever had a girl? I mean, a regular girlfriend?'

‘Of course,' he said. ‘A few. But it never ended well. So I stopped. Started using only whores. It works out better that way.'

‘OK,' I said. Far be it for me to try to change his mind from something that was working for him.

‘How's the meat loaf?' he asked.

TWENTY-NINE

W
e finished eating – Jerry went for the meat loaf and liked it, I had a burger and fries. I wasn't really hungry, and a burger was always my fall back meal. But we finished eating and I grew impatient, so I asked Lily to bring a phone to the table.

‘I'm gonna call Billy now,' I said to Jerry, dialing.

‘You got your way,' Billy said when he heard my voice. He wasn't happy. ‘Entratter said to give you whatever you want.'

‘Not me,' I said, ‘Edward G. Robinson.'

‘Whoever,' he said. He gave me the room number and the time that the game would start, and slammed the phone down.

‘He sounded mad from here,' Jerry said.

‘He'll get over it,' I said. ‘He hasn't been working here that long.'

‘Doesn't know that you're the man, huh?'

‘You want dessert?' I asked.

‘Pie,' he said.

I waved Lily over and we both had cherry pie.

‘After this,' I said to him, ‘we'll go up and see Mr Robinson.'

‘That'll be great,' he said.

Edward G. Robinson answered the door to his suite himself.

‘Oh, good, Eddie G.,' he said. ‘I was afraid it was that annoying girl the studio stuck me with.'

‘Eddie, this is my friend, Jerry. Jerry, meet Edward G. Robinson.'

‘Wow,' Jerry said, ‘this is a real honor, Mr Robinson.'

‘Well,' Eddie Robinson said, shaking Jerry's big paw, ‘you're a big one, aren't you? I could've used you in some of my earlier pictures.'

‘Me? Really?'

‘Come on in, both of you,' Robinson said. ‘What's on the agenda for today, Eddie G.?'

‘I've arranged for you to watch a private, high-stakes poker game,' I said, ‘but it won't be until tonight.'

‘What about the rest of today?' Robinson said. ‘You can't leave me here. That girl will find me, I know she will.' He gave me a pleading look. ‘You've got to hide me.'

‘Do you want me to move you to another suite?' I asked.

‘No, no, nothing as drastic as that,' he said. ‘I don't want to get the poor girl fired. Just … let's do something.'

‘Like what?'

‘The Las Vegas Art League.'

‘The what?'

‘I want to go to the Las Vegas Art League,' Robinson said. ‘Before coming here I checked to see if Las Vegas had an art museum.'

‘It doesn't, that I know of.'

‘Not strictly speaking, but the Art League has a space in a house at Lorenzi Park. Do you know where that is?'

‘I have a general idea—'

‘I have an address,' he said. ‘That's where I want to go. And I'll buy dinner.' He looked at Jerry. ‘How's that?'

‘Works for me,' Jerry said.

I knew Robinson was an art collector. He had taken what used to be a badminton court at his Beverly Hills home and turned it into an art gallery.

I looked at Jerry and said, ‘We're gonna go look at some art.'

‘Let me change my clothes,' Eddie said, excitedly. He rushed into the bedroom.

‘Art,' I said to Jerry, again.

‘Don't forget,' he added, ‘he said he's gonna buy dinner. Rico's gonna buy me dinner!'

‘Yes, he is.'

I'd never seen Jerry so excited before, not even when he met Marilyn Monroe.

‘Can we have Italian?' he asked.

THIRTY

W
hile Edward G. Robinson enjoyed viewing the art on exhibit at the Las Vegas Art League we found out that, in 1956, he had been forced to sell his personal art collection during the divorce from his wife. Nevertheless, he maintained his interest in art, and was even a painter himself.

It was interesting that he opened up to us about his interest in art, and the situation with his divorce. We did a lot of listening as he walked us past the various pieces.

As we drove away from Lorenzi Park – Jerry driving the Caddy, Robinson next to him and me in the back – Eddie said, ‘Thank you boys for letting me go on and on about art this afternoon.'

‘It was our pleasure, Eddie,' I said.

‘Hey, I learned a lot, Mr R.,' Jerry said. ‘I never knew nothin' about art before.'

‘And what do you know now, big guy?' I asked from the back, slapping him on the shoulder.

‘I learned I'm not the only one who has a blue period once in a while.'

‘Oh, you're in the majority there, my boy,' Robinson said. ‘There are lots of us who have blue periods.'

‘What about you, Mr G.?' Jerry asked.

‘Some of my blue periods go toward black,' I said.

‘Where are we goin' to eat?' Jerry asked.

‘Eddie, Jerry asked for Italian, so if you don't mind we're gonna go to one of Frank's favorite places, the Bootlegger.'

‘The Bootlegger?' Robinson said. ‘That's Italian?'

‘Very,' I said.

Robinson put an affectionate hand on Jerry's arm and said, ‘Well, if that's what Big Jerry wants, that's what we'll have.'

Eddie had started calling Jerry ‘Big' Jerry early on, and I could tell the big guy liked it.

‘I'll call Frank and have him meet us there. We've been there before, Jerry,' I said. ‘Remember the way?'

‘I got it, Mr G.,' he assured me, and gunned it.

The Bootlegger had the appearance of a speakeasy, but served some of the finest food in Las Vegas. Last year even mafia boss Sam Giancana had complimented Frank's choice of the Bootlegger for his go-to place in Vegas for Italian food.

Frank had to beg off. Something had come up, a problem with his schedule which he'd have to spend time on the phone sorting out.

‘Tell Eddie I'll call him and we'll do somethin',' he told me.

So it was just the three of us.

Over dinner Jerry asked Robinson if he thought about collecting again.

‘It's very hard,' Eddie said, ‘when you've built up a collection and been forced to give it up, to try and start again. It's just too … heartbreaking.'

‘I got ya,' Jerry said.

‘So now I paint for myself,' Eddie went on. ‘In fact, I'd love to paint you, Big Jerry.'

‘Me?'

‘Sure,' Eddie said, ‘you'd make a wonderful subject.'

‘Mr G.'s better lookn' than me,' Jerry said. ‘Why don't you paint him?'

‘Eddie G. is a very handsome specimen,' Eddie said with that twinkle in his eyes, ‘but there's something special about you that I want to capture on canvas.'

‘Wow,' Jerry said, ‘ain't nobody ever said nothin' like that to me before, Mr R.'

‘Well, I not only think you'd make a great subject for a painting, Jerry,' Eddie said, ‘but I think you're a very fine young man.'

Jerry sat back in his chair and stared at the movie legend. I think he was stunned. And I knew he was thinking that Eddie Robinson still did not know exactly what Jerry did for a living. Would the older man feel the same if and when he did?

‘Thanks,' Jerry said, finally. I'd seen Jerry become quiet and humble in front of women before – Marilyn and Ava Gardner – but never in front of a man.

But Robinson wasn't done. With a fatherly smile he added, ‘I am a very good judge of character, Big Jerry. Believe me, after just this afternoon, I know you better than you know yourself.'

Jerry didn't know what to say to that, so he went to his fallback position, which was, ‘Are we gonna have dessert?'

After three tiramisus we left the Bootlegger to head back to the Sands so Eddie Robinson could get himself ready for the poker game.

‘What are you fellas going to do?' he asked.

‘I've got some things to check on,' I said. ‘Jerry'll probably come along with me.'

‘Still looking into the death of that girl?'

‘Yes.'

‘Any leads?' he asked, then laughed. ‘I've always wanted to say that in real life.'

Since he'd played so many gangster roles I doubted he'd even said it in the movies, but whatever made him happy was fine with me.

‘Not yet,' I said, ‘except that it still doesn't look like a suicide.'

‘That can't make Jack very happy,' he said.

‘No, it doesn't.'

‘You know,' Robinson said, ‘I'll understand if you guys have to spend more time on that and not so much with me. I mean, after all—'

Other books

Wild Stars Seeking Midnight Suns by J. California Cooper
All This Heavenly Glory by Elizabeth Crane
Played by Natasha Stories
See If I Care by Judi Curtin
Chiefs by Stuart Woods
Crushed by Alexander, S.B.
Calvin by Martine Leavitt


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024