Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime

by Robert J. Randisi

  “It was in his shirt pocket. Now let’s go. We don’t want to get caught in the act.”

  “In the act of what?”

  Suddenly, we heard a siren in the distance. Jerry grabbed my shoulder and started pulling me along towards the car.

  “In the act of gettin’ outta here!”

  Thirty-two

  WE MANAGED TO GET OFF of Industrial Road without running into the cops, but I was still uncomfortable about it.

  “They’re gonna think I’m involved when they find out I was there.”

  “They’re not gonna find out,” Jerry said. “That’s why I went back for that piece of paper with your number on it.”

  At the moment that slip of paper was crumpled in one of my pockets where it would do a lot less damage.

  “I appreciate what you did, Jerry,” I said. “Don’t think I don’t, but—”

  “I was just doin’ my job.”

  He was behind the wheel because I was a little too shaky to drive.

  “Where we headed now?”

  I checked my watch. It was early enough for us to catch Ravisi and Davis at the strip club, since a dead Mike Borraco had not taken up much of our time.

  “I guess we better head back to the club,” I said. “At least we can catch up to the two goons who worked me over.”

  “And then do what?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “When you find them, what’re you gonna do?”

  “Well, I’m gonna …” I realized I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know.”

  “Find out who they were workin’ for when they kicked the crap outta you?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “And then what?”

  “Jerry,” I said, “I haven’t—”

  “I hope you’re not thinkin’ about turnin’ them over to the cops.”

  “Well … yeah, the thought had crossed my mind.”

  “But not before you find out who they was workin’ for, right?”

  “Uh …”

  “And how was you gonna do that, Mr. G? Work’em over yerself?”

  “I gotta admit, Jerry,” I said, “I haven’t exactly thought this through.”

  “You don’t gotta,” he said. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  The place was called Club Diamond, a fancy name for what was pretty much a joint. It spoke to how low I’d sunk a few years back that I’d been a regular there.

  “Don’t get out,” Jerry said, grabbing my arm.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s early,” he said. “Chances are they ain’t here yet. Let’s sit out here and see if we can spot ’em.”

  “What if they are already inside?”

  “Then we’ll catch ’em comin’ out. Look, they know you. If they see you inside they’re either gonna run, or try ta kill you.”

  “You have a point.”

  “And if they try ta kill you,” he went on, “I’m gonna have to waste their asses.”

  “Christ, I don’t want you to do that!”

  “I know,” he said, “but it’d be their choice, not mine.”

  “So what do we do when they show up?”

  “Watch,” he said, “wait, and then follow ’em. With a little luck they’ll take us home with ’em.”

  “I really meant it when I said I didn’t want to kill them, Jerry.”

  “I know it,” he said. “We’re just gonna ask them some questions, that’s all.”

  I stared at his profile, noticed that his hands had tightened on the steering wheel. He noticed it, too, because suddenly he looked at them and let up on the wheel so that the color seeped back into his knuckles.

  “This is a nice car,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Big enough for me.”

  “What kind of car do you have at home?”

  “I ain’t got a car,” he said. “I live in Manhattan. Don’t need one.”

  “You must sometimes.”

  “Oh sure, somebody gives me one when I need it,” he explained, “or I rent one.” He slid his hands around the wheel, this time lovingly. “Gonna rent one of these next time.”

  “Jerry,” I asked. “What do you do in New York?”

  “This and that,” he said. “Collections. A lot of collections.”

  “For loan sharks?”

  “Sure, loan sharks. I do pick ups, too. You know, for the boys? Sometimes I gotta get tough, ya know? Break an arm or a leg.”

  “You like that kind of work?”

  “Don’t nobody like that kind of work, Mr. G,” he said. “It’s a job.”

  We sat quietly for a while, watching the front door of the club. Men came and went, sometimes a man went in with a woman. There were windows with beer signs in them, and above the door the name of the club in blue neon. Vegas was a town of neon, of lights, and it was somebody’s job to make sure all the bulbs were on all the time. I sometimes envied whoever had that job. It was so clear what they had to do, with no hidden agendas.

  “You ain’t thinkin’ I’m a hitter, are ya?” Jerry asked, breaking into my reverie.

  “What?”

  “I ain’t no hit man, Mr. G,” he said, indignantly.

  “I never thought you were, Jerry.”

  “I’ve killed people,” he went on, “but never for money, and only when they had it comin’.”

  “And who decided they had it coming?”

  “Not me,” he said. “I don’t make that decision. Because somebody I trust tells me.”

  I nodded and stared out the window.

  “But I ain’t no hitter,” he said, after a moment.

  “I know.”

  Then he nodded, apparently satisfied that he’d made his point. I didn’t see the subtle difference between what he said he did and what he said he didn’t do, but that was okay. It worked for him, and that was all that mattered.

  “There they are,” I said, about half an hour later.

  I reached for the door handle and he stopped me again.

  “Let them go inside.”

  We watched as the two men who had broken into my place, beaten me up, kicked and threatened me went into the club.

  “Let’s go!” I said, too anxious to sit still.

  “No.”

  I looked at him.

  “I’ll go in. Like I said, they know you.”

  “You think you can go unnoticed in there?” I asked. “You’re a big guy, Jerry.”

  “With all kinds of tits and ass hangin’ out, yeah, I think I can pretty much go unnoticed, but there’s one guy I do want to notice me.”

  “The bartender?”

  He nodded.

  “I just wanna make sure he keeps his mouth shut.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “Just seein’ me’ll do that.” He smiled for the first time since I’d met him. “Like you said, I’m a big guy.”

  Thirty-three

  LATER, JERRY TOLD ME what happened when he went inside … .

  He might have thought he could go unnoticed, but that would only be by men. The place was busier than it had been the first time we were there, and there were girls working the floor. A big, healthy-but-tired-looking brunette in a filmy negligee spotted him as soon as he went in and sidled up to him. From the way she moved and looked she was more than a little tipsy.

  “Jesus,” she said, licking her lips, “you’re a big one, aren’t you?”

  Jerry had heard that a million times before, and since his preference in woman ran to smaller ones he was going to brush her off, but then he thought that would bring him some unwanted attention.

  “You’re kinda big yerself,” he said.

  “Double-Ds baby,” she said. She pulled down the top of her negligee so that those babies popped out in all their glory. But even the smooth skin and large brown nipples couldn’t distract Jerry from what he was there to do. “Listen, we got a room in the back—”

  “What’s your name, sweetie?” he asked her.


  “Catalina.”

  He knew it wasn’t her real name, but that didn’t matter.

  “They call you Cat?”

  “Sometimes.” She tucked her tits back in. “You can call me whatever you want.”

  “Listen, Cat,” he said, “I really need a drink. I was thinkin’ of goin’ to the bar. How about you and me get together a little later?”

  To soften the blow he tucked a ten dollar bill into the soft, smooth valley between her breasts.

  “You’re on, handsome,” she said. “Don’t forget about me, though. You’ll never know what you missed.”

  “I won’t forget,” he lied. “I promise.”

  I learned that when Jerry was working he had a one-track mind. He just couldn’t help it. As soon as he walked away from Catalina and headed for the bar he did just what she asked him not to. He forgot all about her.

  But the bartender had not forgotten about him. As he approached the bar the man looked at him and started, as if he thought Jerry might reach across the bar for him. In fact, he backed up a step.

  “Where’s your partner?”

  “Don’t matter,” Jerry said. “I’m the one you gotta answer to.”

  “Hey,” the man said, “they just came in the door. I ain’t said a word to them.”

  Jerry turned his head and saw the two men sitting at a table, deep in conversation. He knew what they were as soon as he saw him. Two-bitters. They wouldn’t last a day in New York.

  “They’re waitin’ for Iris to come out.”

  “And when does she do that?”

  “’Bout ten minutes. It’ll be her last set.”

  “And then what?”

  The man shrugged.

  “Then they leave together.”

  “And go where?”

  “Beats me. Her place, their place?”

  “Those two live together?”

  The bartender snorted.

  “Those two do just about everything together—and maybe more, if you know what I mean.”

  Jerry preferred not to think about what the bartender was talking about.

  “Okay,” he said. “Keep your nose clean and you won’t ever have ta see me again.”

  “That suits me fine.”

  Jerry gave him one last look for good measure, then turned and started for the door. Ravisi and Davis had suspended their conversation and were looking at the skinny girl who was finishing up on stage. The big man might have made it out of the place without being seen by them, but at that moment Catalina spotted him heading for the door. She took offense and wasn’t shy about letting everybody in the place know it.

  “Hey! Big fella! What’re ya doin’?” she shouted. “You ain’t leavin’, are ya? Hey, I’m talkin’ to you. I showed you my tits. Nobody leaves after I show ’em my tits.”

  Jerry thought about simply going out the door as heads turned toward him but then Catalina asked loudly, “What are ya, a faggot or somethin’?”

  Well, it wasn’t that he got insulted or anything, but he noticed that Ravisi and Davis were among the men looking at him, grinning all the while, and if he just walked out the door after she called him a faggot it wouldn’t look right. It would look suspicious.

  So what did he do? He walked across the room, put his big hand right up against Catalina’s face and shoved her. She went flying, arms pinwheeling, legs going faster and faster as they tried to catch up with her momentum, but to no avail. She slammed into an empty table and both she and the table went to the floor.

  “Yeah, big man!” Buzzy Ravisi shouted. “She had it comin’.”

  Jerry turned and walked out of the club … .

  “So they saw me,” he finished.

  “So what?” I asked. “They don’t know you were lookin’ for them.”

  “It was just an edge we had that we don’t have no more,” he said.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, hoping I was right.

  “No,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he was in total agreement with me.

  About an hour later Ravisi and Davis came out with the blonde, Iris, between them. Even from where we were I could see she was wearing a short skirt and a low-cut top that she was almost falling out of. They walked to a car, an old Chrysler that belched exhaust when they started it.

  “They’re not gonna be hard to tail,” Jerry said, starting the engine. “Hang on.”

  He waited for them to pull out before putting the Caddy in drive.

  “These two are small-timers,” he said, as we followed them, “but that don’t mean they’ll be easy to handle. You sure you don’t wanna gun?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Okay,” he said, “but this is what I do, okay? You gotta do what I say when I say it.”

  “I understand. Just remember, all I want from them is information.”

  “You’ll get it.”

  “I don’t want them killed.”

  I didn’t like the pregnant pause before he said, “I don’t kill nobody who ain’t got it comin’.”

  We drove along in silence for a while, following their exhaust cloud, and then Jerry mumbled, “If I was Italian I’d be a made guy, by now.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  Thirty-four

  “MAYBE WE SHOULD call the cops.”

  We were sitting in the car in front of a fleabag residential hotel in a rundown section of downtown. Ravisi and Davis had just gone inside with the girl.

  Jerry sat as still as a statue at the steering wheel, no expression on his face.

  “It’s your call,” he said, “but you’ll have to explain why you didn’t call when you first found the body.”

  “No,” I said, “I meant call about these guys, not the body.”

  “You’re convinced they’re not connected?”

  “I’m positive,” I said. “This stuff with the dead bodies, I just walked into that by accident. These guys are involved with whoever is threatening Dino. This is the job I’m supposed to be working on.”

  “Then you’d have to explain to the cops why you didn’t report when they broke into your house and worked you over.”

  “Shit!” I said. “And I did that to keep both Frank and Dean’s name out of the papers.”

  “Frank don’t mind that so much,” Jerry said, “but Mr. Martin, that’s different.”

  “Okay, then,” I said, “I guess we better go in and get it over with.”

  Jerry took his .45 out, inspected it, and slid the clip out and in. He worked the slide and looked at me.

  “No gun for me.”

  He raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and slid the .45 into his shoulder holster.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Of course, I didn’t know at the time that Buzz Ravisi had finally decided to share Iris with his partner, Lenny Davis. At that moment they were all getting naked in their hotel room, and Davis’s eyes must have been bugging out of his head as he got a look at the naked Iris close up, rather than up on a stage.

  Jerry and I entered the hotel lobby and found it empty except for a dozing sixtyish clerk. Jerry walked to the desk and slammed his .45 down on it. The man jumped, saw the gun and gasped. Jerry put a ten-dollar bill next to the gun.

  “One of these is gonna get us Buzz Ravisi’s room number,” he told the man. “It’s up to you which one.”

  “R-room fourteen,” the man said. “Second floor.”

  Jerry glared at the man, then pushed the ten-dollar bill towards him. He picked up his gun, but didn’t put it away.

  “If you call ahead, me and my friend will be back.” Jerry made it clear that he was talking about his gun, and not me.

  “Y-yessir.”

  “Go back to sleep.”

  The clerk immediately put his head down on the desk. Jerry kept his gun in his hand and headed for the stairs. I followed, my heart pounding because I had no idea what was going to happen when we got into the room.

  On the second floor we counted off the
rooms and stopped in front of fourteen.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “Now we knock,” he said, but before I could say a word he lifted his foot and slammed it into the door just above the knob. There was the sound of splintering wood and the door slammed open.

  Jerry stepped smoothly into the room, his gun held out in front of him. He blocked my view until he stepped to one side, and then I saw the three naked people on the bed. Ravisi was behind Iris, while Davis was in front of her. Both were at full mast.

  Iris, in between them, was on her hands and knees, her breasts dangling down. The tip of Davis’ penis was inches from her nose as she turned her head toward the door, her eyes wide with surprise. They were blue, I noticed, because she was staring right at me. I also noticed that I could smell her perfume, along with the mingled odors of sweat and whiskey.

  “What the fuck—” Ravisi said.

  “Aw, no,” Davis said. He’d been just inches from heaven.

  “Nobody move,” Jerry said.

  They didn’t move but Ravisi’s eyes immediately went to a chair, where both men’s shoulder holsters were hanging. It was a good six feet from the bed. There was a small kitchenette off to one side, a sofa and a stuffed chair to the other side.

  “Go ahead,” Jerry said to Ravisi, “try it.”

  “W-what’s goin’ on, Buzz?” Iris stammered.

  “Shut up,” Ravisi snapped. He looked at Jerry because he had the gun. I didn’t even think he’d looked at me once, yet. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “My friend and I have some questions for you and your friend,” Jerry said. “Maybe you remember my friend?”

  This time he was talking about me, and not his gun. Ravisi looked at me. Davis was still looking down at Iris. Ravisi had slumped to about half mast by now, while Davis’s erection was totally gone. Ravisi still had his hands on Iris’ ample hips.

  Ravisi finally looked at me.

  “Aw, shit.”

  “That’s right,” I said, “aw shit.”

  “Look,” Ravisi said, “can we move—”