It Was a Very Bad Year

by Robert J. Randisi

  ‘It’s on Frank’s new album, though, “Sinatra’s Sinatra”,’ he finished.

  Somebody came and grabbed his arm, so I moved away after wishing him luck with the song at the next Oscar ceremony.

  I looked around, saw Jerry standing off to one side eating a huge sandwich. He had a lot of room around him, like people were giving him space. I walked over and joined him. The table there was laden with food, both hot and cold.

  ‘How you doin’, big guy?’

  ‘Good, Mr G. The food’s real good. That Chasen’s place must be OK.’

  ‘I think so.’

  Even though the food on the table was delicious I found I wasn’t that hungry.

  ‘Manga,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Maybe later. I’m gonna get another drink.’

  I looked around and saw Evans walking up to me. He was holding two drinks.

  ‘You look thirsty,’ he said, handing me one.

  ‘Thanks. You’re a mind reader.’ I sipped it. It was bourbon.

  ‘Look, can we talk? Privately?’

  ‘I’ll see you later, Jerry,’ I said.

  He nodded, raised his sandwich, and chewed.

  SIXTY-ONE

  Evans and I found a corner where we could talk.

  ‘I wanted to thank you again for the information you called me with,’ Evans said. ‘It really accelerated the capture of those kidnappers.’

  ‘Accelerated?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, yes,’ Evans said. He was impeccably decked out in an expensive brown suit with creases in his trousers that could carve a turkey and a burgundy pocket handkerchief. He wore gold cuff links, a couple of gold rings, but nothing on his wedding ring finger. I bet myself that he was always in the society pages, one of LA’s most eligible bachelors. ‘We were going to catch them, anyway. But you helped speed up the process.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘So I don’t think I should be reading anything in the newspapers about you being the one who caught the kidnappers.’

  ‘Is that what you’re worried about, Mr DA?’ I asked. ‘That I’m gonna try and take credit for bringin’ Frankie home? And findin’ the kidnappers?’

  ‘Well, aren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t care about the credit, Evans,’ I said. ‘You can have it.’

  ‘You getting paid that much that you don’t need to be the hero?’

  ‘I’m not gettin’ paid anythin’.’

  He took a step back regarded me, puzzled.

  ‘So you did this – all of this – for nothin’? For . . . what? Friendship?’

  ‘That’s right, friendship,’ I said. ‘Frank called and asked me to help, and I said yes.’

  ‘And you put your life on the line?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘I don’t understand that,’ he said.

  ‘What? The concept of someone doin’ somethin’ for a reason other than profit?’

  ‘I’m a politician, Eddie,’ he said. ‘Altruism is not something I see every day. It’s not something I even understand.’

  I wasn’t sure I knew what ‘altruism’ meant back then, but I pretty much figured it out.

  ‘Some people just do the right thing, Mr Evans,’ I said. ‘And I guess that’s somethin’ I wouldn’t expect a politician to get.’

  For some reason he decided to take offense at that moment.

  ‘Oh, look here,’ he said, ‘don’t go getting so high and mighty on me. According to Mr Raggio you’re nothin’ but another hood. You work for the mob in one of their casinos, and you work to keep their friends out of trouble.’

  ‘I think I’m done talking to you, Mr Evans,’ I said. ‘I see a lot more interesting people in the room.’

  ‘Yeah, you listen—’

  ‘Dino!’ I yelled.

  Dean Martin had just walked in. He spotted me and came walking over.

  ‘Hey, Eddie!’ He gave me a big hug. ‘Who do we have here?’

  ‘This is Mr Evans, the District Attorney around here. He worked with the cops and the FBI on gettin’ Frankie back.’

  ‘Well,’ Dino said to Evans, ‘let me shake your hand, fella. You did a helluva job.’

  Evans shook hands with Dean but studied me. I guess he was waiting for me to play hero.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Martin,’ he said. ‘I was just . . . just doing my job.’

  Dino looked at me, a smile on his handsome face. He was wearing a blue suit that made the DA’s look cheap.

  ‘I wanted to come over while everything was going on, but Frank said no. He said it would attract too much attention.’

  ‘He was quite right,’ Evans said. ‘We had enough media attention to deal with.’

  ‘Well,’ Dean said, ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you. Eddie, I’ll see you later. I’m gonna go and find Frank and Frankie, so I can give the kid a big hug. Excuse me boys.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Evans said.

  I nodded and Dean moved away into the room crowded with Sinatra well wishers.

  I caught Evans looking at me.

  ‘Maybe I misjudged you, Eddie,’ he said, finally.

  ‘You know what, Evans?’ I said. ‘It really doesn’t matter whether you did or didn’t because we probably won’t ever see each other again after this.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Evans said. ‘We probably won’t.’

  He turned and followed in Dino’s wake into the crowded room.

  SIXTY-TWO

  We got off Frank’s plane the next morning in Vegas and found the cops waiting for us.

  ‘What’s this about?’ Entratter said aloud as we came down the airstairs.

  Frank had Juliet Prowse on his arm, put himself between her and the advancing quartet of uniformed cops.

  ‘Take it easy, baby,’ he told her.

  ‘Eddie Gianelli?’ one of them asked as they reached us.

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘You’re comin’ with us,’ he said.

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Under your own power or by force, but yeah, you’re comin’,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Detective Hargrove wants to see you.’

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Entratter said.

  I knew what he meant. Hargrove had heard about the capture of the kidnappers and he knew that I gave him the information second, not first.

  Mickey Rudin came out of the plane and asked, ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I think Eddie needs a lawyer, Mickey,’ Frank said. ‘These officers are taking him in. I want you to go with him.’

  ‘What’s this about?’ Rudin asked anybody who would answer.

  ‘It has to do with a murder investigation,’ the cops said. ‘That’s all I can say right now, sir.’

  ‘I’m Mr Gianelli’s lawyer.’

  ‘Then you might as well come with us,’ the cop said.

  ‘All right,’ Rudin said, wearily. He looked at Frank.

  ‘We’ll take your bags to the Sands,’ Frank said. ‘Meet you there.’ Then he looked at me. ‘Both of you.’

  ‘OK,’ Rudin said.

  ‘Thanks, Frank,’ I said.

  ‘Mickey will bring you home,’ Frank said. ‘Don’t worry.’ Juliet gave me a dazzling smile of encouragement over Frank’s shoulder.

  ‘OK, boys,’ I said, extending my wrists, ‘take me to your leader.’

  ‘There won’t be any need for cuffs, Mr Gianelli,’ the cops said. ‘We have a car over here.’

  I fell into step with two of them. The other two walked behind us.

  Back in the same interview room. I could tell because the wall clock had a paint smudge on it, probably from the last time the room was painted.

  Hargrove was going to be mad. I knew that. When he saw the news last night, or that morning, he must have hit the roof. He had the cops watching the airport for Frank’s plane, figured I’d be coming back. Now I was going to be back on the stove for the murder of Wayne Whatsisname.

  When he came in I was braced for him to be yelling and screaming, red in the face. Instead th
e door opened and he walked in, all calm and collected. He took off his jacket, hung it over the back of a chair, then sat down at the table across from me. He took the time to light a cigarette, and then rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

  ‘You fucked me, Eddie.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘That information you gave me was old,’ he said. ‘Probably only hours old, but old enough for the LA cops to make the pinch.’

  ‘But that’s good, right?’ I asked. ‘They caught the kidnappers.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s good,’ Hargrove said, ‘that’s real good . . . for them. But I didn’t have anything to do with it. So you know what that means?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re back on the hook for Wayne’s murder. You and your big buddy. Where is he, anyway? He wasn’t on the plane with you. I told you guys not to leave town for long.’

  ‘He’ll be back later this afternoon, on a commercial flight.’

  ‘That’s good, that’s real good.’

  ‘What about the Rienza brothers?’ I asked. ‘Are you still holdin’ ’em, or did you let ’em go?’

  ‘Those two idiots are still in a cell,’ he said. ‘One of their guns came up as being used in a robbery in LA. We’re still checking on the other one.’

  ‘How do they look for Wayne?’

  ‘They have alibis,’ Hargrove said, ‘but we’re still checking those out.’

  ‘How come you never asked me for my alibi?’

  ‘Because I knew you’d have one. Probably unbreakable. That wouldn’t mean you didn’t do it.’

  ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That’s quite an attitude for a detective to take. That could apply to anyone.’

  ‘Not everyone has your friends, Eddie. For instance, you got a hotshot lawyer outside, makin’ all kinds of noise about wanting me to let you go.’

  ‘Mickey Rudin.’

  ‘Yeah, Sinatra’s mouthpiece, right?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘That means you ain’t gonna call your buddies, the Kennedys, to get you out this time?’

  That had happened some time ago, and it obviously still stuck in his craw.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘it means you’re gonna bust my balls for a while and then let me go.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Which one? Bust my balls, or let me go?’

  ‘Both,’ Hargrove said, ‘in any order you like.’

  ‘Well, you’ll bust my balls because you’re a sonofabitch, but you’ll let me go because you’re a good detective.’

  He seemed to be surprised by one of those statements.

  ‘Eddie, Eddie . . .’

  ‘I didn’t kill Wayne Whatsisname, Detective,’ I said, ‘and neither did Jerry. Let me out of here and I’ll prove it.’

  ‘Now you’re a detective?’

  ‘You’re the detective,’ I said. ‘Let’s just call me the assistant detective.’

  He studied me for a moment.

  ‘Whataya say?’

  SIXTY-THREE

  Forty-eight hours.

  That’s what Hargrove gave me. When they were gone he said he’d be bringing me and Jerry in for some line-ups.

  I rode back to the Sands with Mickey Rudin in a car Jack Entratter had sent.

  ‘Thanks for comin’ along, Mr Rudin,’ I said.

  ‘Mickey, please,’ Rudin said. ‘I don’t think Detective Hargrove will be bothering you anymore, Eddie. If he does, just give me a call.’

  I studied Rudin’s profile, because he didn’t look at me when he spoke. I was sure he thought his presence had gotten me sprung, but the fact was I had gotten myself out. Since Frank was nice enough to send his lawyer with me, though, I didn’t do anything to disappoint him.

  When we got to the Sands I took Mickey to the front desk to get him the key to his suite. He went upstairs to freshen up, once more assuring me that he was at my disposal.

  When he was gone I called Jerry’s room. I had lied to Hargrove. Jerry was on Frank’s plane, but when he saw the uniformed cops coming, he chose to stay behind until they left – with me in tow.

  ‘Hey, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘That was fast.’

  ‘Believe it or not, Hargrove was reasonable,’ I said.

  ‘What did you promise him?’

  ‘The killer of good ol’ Wayne.’

  ‘How we gonna find that out?’

  ‘You and me,’ I said, ‘are gonna find Barney Irwin.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘This is my town, Jerry,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna pull out all the stops.’

  ‘This I gotta see, Mr G.’

  ‘Well, meet me in the lobby,’ I said, ‘and be ready to drive.’

  My contacts in town were extensive.

  Before JFK’s death I had put the word out to some of my people, but I’d never really had a chance to cash in. The assassination had taken up most of their time and attention.

  This time around, I was gonna hit everybody, and stay on their asses.

  We made the rounds on the strip of valets, car hops, bellmen and doormen and waitresses, not to mention the maitre d’s.

  After that I directed Jerry to drive off the strip. Every few blocks I had him pull over so I could talk to a vendor, a street performer, a cabbie, a truck driver. I had him wait outside buildings while I talked to reporters, photographers, doormen, security guards, reporters; people I knew had their own ears on the streets.

  ‘Now what?’ he asked, when I hopped back into the car after talking to a waitress at a downtown restaurant.

  ‘Now we’re really gonna get down and dirty,’ I said. ‘Drive.’

  I directed him to a part of town he felt very comfortable in.

  ‘Now these are my people,’ he said, looking at the hookers and stoners.

  ‘Down boy,’ I said. ‘You’re a lot better than this.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr G.,’ he said, ‘but sometimes I ain’t so sure.’

  I directed him down a side street and immediately a couple of girls approached the car, one on each side.

  ‘Wow,’ one girl said to him, ‘you’re a big one.’ She was a blowsy blonde with big breasts squeezed into a top two sizes too small.

  ‘Call off your friend, Darla,’ I said to the skinnier brunette on my side.

  ‘Back off, Candy,’ Darla said. ‘Eddie here is a friend of mine, not a client.’

  ‘What about you, sugar?’ Candy said to Jerry. ‘Wanna do some business?’

  ‘Not right now, thanks, baby,’ he said. As tongue tied as Jerry was around Ava Gardner and Abby Dalton, he knew how to talk to hookers. ‘Maybe some other time.’

  ‘What’s on your mind, Eddie?’ Darla asked.

  ‘I’m lookin’ for a guy who’s probably hidin’ out,’ I said. ‘A photographer named Barney Irwin.’

  ‘I know Barney,’ she said. ‘He’s a sleazeball, always tryin’ to get me to strip for his camera.’

  ‘He hasn’t succeeded?’

  ‘I don’t do nothin’ for nothin’, Eddie, you know that.’

  ‘I do know that.’ I handed her a twenty. ‘Keep an eye out, put the word out. A C-note for anybody who finds him and lets me know.’

  ‘You got it, handsome.’

  The double sawbuck disappeared into her bra.

  ‘Bye, sweetie,’ Darla said to Jerry.

  ‘So long.’

  ‘Your friend knows where to find my friend, if you get the time,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll remember.’

  Jerry put the car in drive and I directed him up a few more blocks.

  ‘Pull over here.’

  He pulled to the curb and stopped.

  ‘What’s here?’

  ‘Wait for it.’

  We waited a few minutes and then a guy came staggering down the street. When he got to the car he sort of lurched, bounced off the hood and ended up by my door.

  ‘Hey, Eddie.’

  ‘Dewey.’

  ‘You’re not lookin’ ta score, so what’s up?’

&nbs
p; I told him what I told Darla. He didn’t know Irwin, but took his description and promised to be on the lookout, and pass the word. After that he staggered off.

  ‘I hate stoners,’ Jerry said.

  ‘He’s not a stoner,’ I said. ‘He’s a dealer. Never uses his own stuff, just acts like it.’

  ‘Don’t like dealers, either.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to deal with him, I do.’

  ‘Where to?’ Jerry asked. ‘Time to eat?’

  ‘Yeah, but not around here. Drive. I’ll tell you where.’

  SIXTY-FOUR

  I asked Jerry if he wanted hot dogs but he said not unless they were from Nathan’s of Nedicks. We settled on burgers and I directed him to a small burger shack I’d never taken him to before.

  ‘For a guy who’ll eat anythin’ you’re a real hot dog snob,’ I said to him when we sat down at an outdoor table with baskets of burgers and fries.

  ‘Ain’t my fault,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘Stuff in Brooklyn is real good. Come on, Mr G. Pizza? You got good pizza out here?’

  I had to admit, Brooklyn pizza was still the best I’d ever had.

  ‘We gonna call the dick today?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘right after this. He doesn’t have as many ears on the street as I do, but he’s got a network.’

  ‘You know a helluva lot of people, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘This photographer ain’t got a chance of stayin’ hid – unless he left town.’

  ‘Even then we might be able to find out where he went.’

  ‘What about hired help?’ Jerry asked. ‘If he hired them two jamokes at the warehouse he could hire some more.’

  ‘Cheap labor,’ I said. ‘He either can’t or won’t lay out the dough for prime help.’

  ‘That’s good for us,’ Jerry said. ‘I’m gettin’ another burger. Want one?’

  ‘I’m still workin’ on this one,’ I said. ‘I don’t inhale food the way you do.’

  He went off and came back with not only another burger, but another basket of fries. I still had half mine left. We were washing everything down with Cokes.