by Mario Puzo
In the film industry you said good-bye to most of your lovers at the end of a picture as politely as you did in the old days to your dancing partner at a ball.
Skippy Deere claimed it was his idea to hold the wrap party at the Xanadu Hotel and to show a very rough cut of the picture that same night. He knew that Athena would be leaving the country in the next few days and wanted to make sure that Athena did not have to reshoot any scenes.
But, in reality, it was Cross who proposed the idea of a wrap party and showing of the film at the Xanadu Hotel. He asked it as a favor.
“It will be great publicity for the Xanadu,” Cross told Deere. “And here’s what I’ll do for you. I’ll comp everybody on the picture and anybody you invite for one night—room, food, beverage. I’ll give you and Bantz a Villa. I’ll give Athena a Villa. I’ll provide security so nobody gets to see the rough cut—like the press—that you don’t want to. You’ve been screaming for years you wanted a Villa.”
Deere pondered this. “Just for publicity?”
Cross grinned at him. “Also you get hundreds of people loaded with big cash. The casino will get a good part of it.”
“Bantz doesn’t gamble,” Deere said. “I do. You’ll get my money.”
“I’ll give you fifty grand in credit,” Cross said. “If you lose we won’t press for payment.”
That convinced Deere. “OK,” he said. “But it has to be my idea or I can’t sell it to the Studio.”
“Certainly,” Cross said. “But Skippy, you and I have done a lot of things together. And I’ve always come out on the short end. This time it’s different. This time you have to come through.” He smiled at Deere. “This time you can’t disappoint me.”
For one of the few times in his life Deere felt a thrill of apprehension and did not quite know why. Cross was not making a threat. He seemed genial, he seemed to be just stating a fact.
“Don’t worry,” Skippy Deere said, “We finish shooting in three weeks. Make your plans for then.”
Then Cross had to make sure that Athena would agree to come to the wrap party and showing of the rough cut. “I really need it for the Hotel and a chance to see you again,” he said to her.
She agreed. Now Cross had to make sure that Dante and Losey would come to the party.
He invited Dante to come to Vegas to talk about LoddStone’s and Losey’s plan to make a picture based on Losey’s adventures in the police department. Everybody knew that Losey and Dante were now good buddies.
“I want you to put in a word for me with Jim Losey,” Cross told Dante. “I want to be a coproducer on his film and I’m willing to invest half the budget.”
Dante was amused by this. “You’re really serious about this movie business,” he said, “Why?”
“Big money,” Cross said. “And broads.”
Dante laughed. “You’ve got big money and broads already,” he said.
“Class. Big money and class broads,” Cross said.
“How come you don’t invite me to this party?” Dante asked. “And how come I never get a Villa?”
“Put the word in for me with Losey,” Cross said, “and you’ll get both. Bring Losey along. Plus if you’re looking for a date I can fix you up with Tiffany. You’ve seen her show.”
To Dante, Tiffany was the ultimate personification of pure lust, her breasts so full, her smooth, elongated face with its thick lips and wide mouth, her height and long, shapely legs. For the first time Dante was enthusiastic. “No shit,” he said. “She’s twice as big as me. Imagine? You’ve got a deal.”
It was a little too obvious, but Cross was counting on the fact that the interdiction on violence in Vegas by all the Families would make Dante confident.
Then Cross added casually, “Even Athena is coming. And she’s the main reason I want to stay in the movie business.”
Bobby Bantz, Melo Stuart, and Claudia flew to Vegas on the Studio jet. Athena and the rest of the cast arrived from the shoot in their personal trailers, as did Dita Tommey. Senator Wavven would represent the state of Nevada, as would Nevada’s governor, who had been handpicked for the job by Wavven himself.
Dante and Losey would have two apartments in one of the Villas. Lia Vazzi and his men would occupy the other four apartments.
Senator Wavven and the governor and their entourages would occupy another Villa. Cross had arranged a private dinner for them with selected showgirls. He hoped that their presence would help take the heat off any investigation of what was to happen. That they would use their political influence to smother any publicity and legal pursuit.
Cross was breaking all the rules. Athena had a Villa, but Claudia, Dita Tommey, and Molly Flanders also had apartments in that Villa. The remaining two apartments held a four-man crew of Lia Vazzi’s men, to guard Athena.
A fourth Villa was assigned to Bantz and Skippy Deere and their entourages. The remaining three Villas were occupied by twenty of Lia’s men, who would replace the usual security guards. However, none of the Vazzi crews were to be involved in the real action, they did not know Cross’s true purpose. Lia and Cross were to be the only executioners.
Cross shut down the Villas’ Pearl Casino for the two days. Most of the Hollywood personnel, no matter how successful, could not afford to play the casino’s stakes. Those superrich guests who had already booked were informed that the Villas were undergoing repairs and renovations and could not accommodate them.
In their plan Cross and Lia Vazzi had determined that Cross would kill Dante and that Lia would kill Losey. If the Don decided on their guilt and determined that Lia had actually done the job on Dante, he might wipe out Lia’s whole family. If the Don found the truth, he would not extend his vengeance to Claudia. She, after all, had Clericuzio blood.
Also, Lia had a personal vendetta against Jim Losey, he hated all representatives of government, and why not mix a little personal pleasure in with such a dangerous business.
The real problem was how to isolate the two men and make the bodies disappear. It had always been the rule of all the Families all over America that no execution could be carried out in Vegas, in order to preserve the public acceptance of gambling. The Don was a strong enforcer of that rule.
Cross hoped Dante and Losey would not suspect a trap. They did not know that Lia had discovered Sharkey’s body and therefore knew of their intentions. The other problem was how to prepare for Dante’s strike against Cross. And then Lia established a spy in Dante’s camp.
Molly Flanders flew in early on the day of the party; she and Cross had business. She brought with her a justice of the Supreme Court of California and a monsignor of the Catholic Diocese of Los Angeles. They would serve as witnesses when Cross signed the will she had also prepared and brought. Cross knew that his chances of remaining alive were small, and he had carefully considered where his half of the Xanadu Hotel should go. His interest was worth $500 million, and that was nothing to be sneezed at.
The will left Lia’s wife and children a comfortable pension for life. The rest he divided between Claudia and Athena, with Athena’s portion held in trust for her daughter, Bethany. It struck him that there was no one else in the world he cared enough about to leave his money to.
When Molly, the judge, and the monsignor arrived in the penthouse suite, the judge congratulated him on his good sense for making a will at so young an age. The monsignor calmly surveyed the luxury of the suite as if to weigh the wages of sin.
They were both good friends of Molly’s, who had done pro bono work for them. She had called in her markers at the special request of Cross. He wanted witnesses who could not be corrupted or intimidated by the Clericuzio.
Cross gave them drinks, and the signing of the will was completed. The two men left; though they had been invited, they did not want their reputations sullied by attending a movie wrap party in the gambling hell of Las Vegas. They were, after all, not elected officials of the state.
Cross and Molly were alone in the suite. Molly gave him the orig
inal of the will. Cross said, “You have a copy for yourself, right?”
“Of course,” Molly said. “I must say I was surprised when you gave me your instructions. I had no idea you and Athena were so close. And besides she’s pretty rich in her own right.”
“She may need more money than she has,” Cross said.
“Her daughter?” Molly said. “I know about her. I’m Athena’s personal attorney. You’re right, Bethany may need that money. I had you figured differently.”
“You did?” Cross said. “How so?”
Molly said quietly, “I had the idea that you took care of Boz Skannet. I had you figured as a Mafia guy with no mercy. I remember about that poor kid I got off from a murder rap. And that you mentioned him. And that he was killed supposedly in some drug deal.”
“And now you see how wrong you were,” Cross said, smiling at her.
Molly looked at him coldly. “And I was very surprised when you let Bobby Bantz screw you out of your profit share in Messalina.”
“That was small potatoes,” Cross said. He thought of the Don and David Redfellow.
“Athena is going to France the day after tomorrow,” Molly said. “For quite a while. Are you going with her?”
“No,” Cross said. “I have too many things here.”
“OK,” Molly said. “I’ll see you at the movie screening and the wrap party. Maybe the rough cut of the film will give you an idea of the fortune Bantz gypped you out of.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Cross said.
“You know, Dita put in a card at the beginning of the rough cut. Dedicated to Steve Stallings. Bantz will be really pissed off at that.”
“Why?” Cross asked.
“Because Steve screwed all the women Bantz couldn’t,” Molly said. “What shits men are,” she added. Then she left.
Cross went to sit on his balcony. The Vegas street below him was crowded, people sifting into the hotel casinos that lined the strip on either side. The neon marquees flashed their signs: Caesars, the Sands, the Mirage, the Aladdin, the Desert Inn, the Stardust—purples, reds, and greens, a mixed rainbow to which there was no end until you lifted your eyes to the desert and mountains that lay beyond. The blazing afternoon sun could not subdue them.
The Messalina people would not begin to arrive until three, and then he would see Athena for the last time if things went wrong. He picked up the balcony phone and called the Villa where he had housed Lia Vazzi and told him to come up to the penthouse suite so that they could go over their plans one more time.
Messalina wrapped at noon. Dita Tommey had wanted the last shot of the rising sun illuminating a terrible slaughter of the Roman battlefield. Athena and Steve Stallings looking down. She shot a double for Stallings and used a shadow over his face for disguise. It was nearly three in the afternoon before the camera truck, the huge mobile trailers that served as homes on the set, the mobile catering kitchens, the wardrobe trailers and vehicles carrying weapons of the time before Christ, rolled into Vegas. Many others came as well, because Cross had treated this occasion in the Old Vegas style.
He had comped everyone who worked on Messalina, above the line and below the line, with room, food, and beverage. LoddStone Studios had supplied the list of over three hundred names. Certainly it was generous, certainly it created goodwill. But these three hundred people would leave a substantial part of their wages in the casino drop. This he had learned from Gronevelt. “When people feel good, when they want to celebrate, they gamble.”
The rough cut of the movie Messalina would be played at ten P.M., but without music and special effects. After the screening would come the wrap party. The huge Xanadu ballroom where the party for Big Tim had been held was cut into two parts. One to show the film, the other, larger part for the buffet and orchestra.
By four in the afternoon, everybody was in the Hotel and the Villas. It was not to be missed by anyone: everything free in the convergence of two glamorous worlds, Hollywood and Las Vegas.
The press was infuriated by the tight security. Access was barred to the Villas and the ballroom. It was not even possible to photograph the players in this glamorous event. Not the stars of the film, the director, the senator and the governor, the producer and the head of the Studio. They could not even get into the screening of the rough cut of the film. They prowled around the casino and offered huge bribes to the gamblers below the line for their IDs to get into the ballroom. Some were successful.
Four crew members, two cynical stuntmen, and two women from the catering team sold their IDs to reporters for a thousand dollars apiece.
Dante Clericuzio and Jim Losey were enjoying the luxury of their Villa. Losey shook his head in wonderment. “A burglar could live for a year on just the gold from the bathroom,” he said aloud.
“No, he couldn’t,” Dante said. “He’d be dead in six months.”
They were sitting in the living room of Losey’s apartment. They hadn’t called room service because the huge kitchen refrigerator was stuffed with trays of sandwiches and caviar canapés, bottles of imported beer and the finest wines.
“So we’re all set,” Losey said.
“Yep,” Dante said, “and when we’re done, I’ll ask my grandfather for the Hotel. Then we’ll be set for life.”
“The important thing is that we get him here alone,” Losey said.
“I’ll do that, don’t worry,” Dante said. “Worse comes to worst, we’ll drive him out to the desert.”
“How do you get him here in this Villa?” Losey said. “That’s the important thing.”
“I’ll tell him Giorgio flew in secretly and wants to see him,” Dante said. “Then I do the job and you clean up after me. You know crime scenes, what they’ll look for.”
He said musingly, “The best way is to drop him into the desert. They may never find him.” He paused for a moment. “You know Cross ducked Giorgio the night Pippi died. He won’t dare do it again.”
“But what if he does?” Losey asked. “I’ll be waiting here all night jerking off.”
“Athena’s Villa is next door,” Dante said. “You just tap on it and get lucky.”
“Too much heat,” Losey said.
Dante said with a grin. “We can take her out into the desert with Cross.”
“You’re crazy,” Losey said. And he realized this was true.
“Why not?” Dante said. “Why not have some fun? The desert is big enough to dump two bodies.”
Losey thought of Athena’s body, her lovely face, her voice, her regal air. Oh, he and Dante would have fun. He was already a murderer, he might as well be a rapist. Marlowe, Pippi De Lena, and his old partner, Phil Sharkey. He was a three-time murderer and too shy to commit rape. He was turning into one of those morons he had arrested all his life. And for a woman who sold her body to the whole world. But this little prick before him with the funny hat was really a piece of work.
“I’ll give it a shot,” Losey said. “I’ll invite her in for a drink and if she comes, she’s asking for it.”
Dante was amused by Losey’s rationalization. “Everybody asks for it,” he said. “We ask for it.”
They went over the details, and then Dante went back to his apartment. He ran a bath; he wanted to use the expensive scents in the Villa. As he lay in the hot, perfumey water, his black, horselike Clericuzio hair soaped into a white, heavy topknot, he thought about what his fate would be. After he and Losey dumped the body of Cross into the desert, miles from Vegas, the toughest part of the operation would begin. He would have to convince his grandfather that he was innocent. If worse came to worst, he could confess to Pippi’s death also, and his grandfather would forgive him. The Don had always showed him a special love.
Also, now, Dante was the Family Hammer. He would apply for appointment as Bruglione of the West and the overlordship of the Xanadu Hotel. Giorgio would oppose him, but Vincent and Petie would be neutral. They were content to live on their legal enterprises. And the old man could not live forever, Giorg
io was a white-collar guy. There would come a time when the warmaker would become the emperor. He would not retreat into society. He would lead the Family back to its glory. He would never give up the power over life and death.
Dante left the bath and showered to get all the soap out of his ropy hair. He anointed his body with the colognes from their fancy bottles, sculpted his hair from delicate tubes of aromatic gels, reading the directions carefully. Then he went to the suitcase that held his Renaissance hats and chose one encrusted with precious jewels that had the shape of a custard. Its threads were gold and purple. Lying there it looked ridiculous, but when he put it on his head, Dante was enchanted. It made him look like a prince. Especially the row of studded green gems sewed along the front. This was how Athena would see him tonight, or failing that, Tiffany. But the two could wait if necessary.
As he finished dressing, Dante thought of what his life would come to be. He would live in a Villa, as luxurious as any palace. He would have an inexhaustible supply of beautiful women, a self-supporting harem dancing and singing in the Xanadu Hotel showroom. He could eat in six different restaurants with six different national cuisines. He could order the death of an enemy, reward a friend. He would be as close to being a Roman emperor as modern times allowed. Only Cross stood in the way.
Jim Losey, finally alone in his apartment, was contemplating the course his life had taken. He had been, for the first half of his career, a great cop, a true knight defending his society. He’d had an intense hatred for all criminals, especially blacks. And then gradually he had changed. He resented the charges in the media that cops were brutal. The very society he was defending from scum was attacking him. His superiors, with their gold-braided uniforms, sided with the politicians who talked shit to the people. All that bullshit about how you couldn’t hate blacks. What was so bad about that? They committed most of the crimes. And wasn’t he a free American who could hate whoever he wanted to hate? They were the cockroaches who would eat away all civilization. They didn’t want to work, they didn’t want to study, burning the midnight oil was a joke to them unless it meant shooting basketball under the light of the moon. They mugged unarmed citizens, they turned their women into whores, and they had an intolerable disrespect for the law and its enforcers. It was his job to protect the rich from the malice of the poor. And his own desire was to become rich. He wanted the clothing, the cars, the food, the drink, and above all, the women the rich could afford. And surely that was American.