Maximum Rossi

by Paul W Papa

  I couldn’t blame Jeannie for not trusting me to take care of her. She knew the life. If I was her I wouldn’t have trusted me either. Of course, that didn’t help my situation any. I still needed to find her. She was, after all, my alibi.

  I was strolling through the casino, trying to figure my next move when I ran into Bobby. He was beaming.

  “Hello, Mr. Rossi,” he said. “I was hoping to run into you.”

  “What can I do for you Bobby?”

  “Oh, it is what I can do for you Mr. Rossi. I spoke with Mr. Entratter about our earlier problem. He was very appreciative of all you did.”

  “I told you Bobby, a thank you isn’t necessary. I was just…”

  He cut me off. “Mr. Entratter wants to comp your room and meals during your stay.”

  I shut my trap.

  “I have already taken care of the room, upgraded you to a suite, and have opened accounts for you at all our restaurants. I would be happy to get you a seat to the show this evening.”

  “That’s swell,” I said. “I wonder if I could bother you for one more favor?”

  “Anything, Mr. Rossi. I am at your disposal.”

  “When I saw the show before, one of the dancers caught my eye. I think her name was Victoria or Veronica.”

  “Virginia?” Bobby offered.

  “That’s it,” I said. “Virginia. I just want to say hello. You know how it is.”

  “I would be happy to arrange that, Mr. Rossi. Just leave it to me.”

  Bobby sped away and before I knew it, I was sitting front row in the Copa Room, sipping on a manhattan, and watching very flexible women dancing on the stage in front of me. I spent most of the time trying to guess which one of those women was Virginia James. There seemed to be a lot of brunettes in Texas. I didn’t mind.

  After the show I headed to the tables. I knew Virginia would need time to change before they sent her out to see me. That was common. After the show, the Copa Girls routinely came out into the casino to mingle with guests. The stars often did the same thing. In fact, that was one of the greatest things about Vegas, you could play craps or sit at a table next to Shecky Greene, Buddy Greco, Vic Damone, or Tony Bennet and nobody would stop you.

  It was a good night, and I was winning more than losing when a vision of loveliness with false eyelashes slid onto the seat next to me.

  “You must be Mr. Rossi,” she said.

  “That’s what my mother claims.”

  She held out a delicate hand. “Virginia James, pleased to meet you.”

  I took the hand. It was as soft as lamb skin. “Please, call me Max,” I said. I was beginning to rethink my opinion of Texas. Clearly it was more than oil rigs and strange looking cattle.

  “Did you enjoy the show?” Virginia asked.

  “Very much so,” I said. “You are quite the dancer.”

  “Thank you,” she said and flashed me the house smile.

  “Perhaps I could buy you a cup of coffee,” I said.

  She batted her eyes. “I’m really not supposed to…”

  “I’m not trying to hit on you,” I assured her. “I’m more interested in the whereabouts of another dancer. One you brought to Vegas with you.”

  The house smile left.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not looking to put a hurt on her. I just need some help getting out of a jam.”

  The house smile returned. “And what jam could that be?”

  “A case of mistaken identity,” I said.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Look, I only need ten minutes of your time. Let’s move to the coffee shop, its quieter there. I’ll ask you a few questions, you can tell me some tales, and we can both be on our way.”

  “You a dick?” she asked.

  “Not officially,” I said.

  I could tell she was considering her options, wondering what she should do, and, more importantly, what she should or shouldn’t say.

  “All right,” she finally said. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

  Twelve

  WE SAT ACROSS from each other in the booth staring into our cups. Hers was tea. Mine coffee. I ordered a slice of warm apple pie to go with it. Virginia did not. When I was sitting at the gaming table, I didn’t get much of a look at her, but now, with her in the booth across from me, I was able to take a good look.

  I could see why Entratter picked her. Virginia was mostly legs, but the tops of those legs formed themselves into quite a nice figure. Curvy in all the right places. She had long brown hair, matching eyes, and projected just a hint of lavender. Her shoulders were a bit broad for a woman and I wasn’t sure if that was the result of being a dancer, or because of the state from which she hailed. But those shoulders suited her, and they filled out her flowing dress nicely. The dress itself resembled one of the costumes she had worn on stage and I assumed that was on purpose.

  “Are you and Jeannie close?” I asked.

  “Close enough,” she said.

  This wasn’t going to be easy. I took a bite of pie. “It’s quite good,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”

  “Is this how you’re going to use your ten minutes?” she asked. “Eating pie.”

  “Jeannie told me she found out about the audition from you,” I said. “Told me she moved to El Paso just for the chance. Told me you had to teach her to be a Texan.”

  “Sounds like you know the scoop already. So why am I here?”

  “I told you, I need to find her.”

  “To get out of a jam,” Virginia added.

  “To get out of a jam,” I confirmed.

  Virginia wasn’t using her house smile. Instead, she was flashing me the look Queeney had given me earlier that morning.

  “And just who are you?” Virginia asked. “I’ve never seen you before. Jeannie’s never mentioned anyone named Rossi.”

  I wanted to lie, to make up a story, but I could tell by the way I was being treated that Virginia and Jeannie were close. She was covering for her friend. “Why would she?” I said. “We just met yesterday.”

  Virginia looked at me sternly. “Jeannie has a man, Mr. Rossi. One you don’t want to mess with, trust me.”

  “Had,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Had,” I repeated. “Jeannie had a man. Now he’s lying on a metal slab, showing his insides to the coroner.”

  Virginia’s face told me Bilotti’s death was news to her. There was surprise, but no sadness.

  “That’s too bad,” she said, but she didn’t mean it.

  “I wonder if Jeannie would feel the same way,” I said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Look, Ms. James, I know all about what Jeannie was going through. I know Bilotti slapped her around. I tried to stop it.”

  Virginia stirred her tea, or maybe she was reading the leaves, I wasn’t quite sure. She took her time before she answered. I hoped it wasn’t eating into my ten minutes.

  “He wasn’t a nice man,” she finally said without looking up. “I tried to tell her to stay away from him, but she didn’t listen. It was strange.”

  “Strange how?” I asked.

  Virginia looked up at me with curious eyes. “She threw herself at him. Like she was chasing him.”

  “She said it was nice at first.”

  “Oh, it was. All pearls and oysters,” she paused. “Until she came home with her first shiner.”

  “That must have gone over well on stage,” I said.

  “A girl knows how to cover up imperfections,” Virginia said in a manner that made me think she had some experience at it.

  “Some imperfection,” I said.

  “It didn’t dissuade her,” Virginia said. “She seemed determined to be with him. Like the beatings were just part of the package. I begged her to let me tell Jack, but she wouldn’t have it. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll take care of it.’”

  “Where is she now, Virginia?” I asked.

  Virginia looked at me a
s if she was seeing me for the first time. “What’s your angle in all this?”

  “Patsy,” I said. Then added: “The police think I iced Bilotti.”

  “Did you?”

  “Ask Jeannie when you see her,” I said.

  Virginia studied me. She had no reason to trust me and she struck me as someone who didn’t trust easily.

  “I met Jeannie the other night when I was playing cards with Bilotti in the Emerald Room,” I said. “He backhanded her and I took exception to it. We wrestled a little and I came out on top.”

  “Of Bilotti?” she said, eyes wide. “I doubt that.”

  I guess I should have been offended, but I wasn’t. It was understandable. People tended to underestimate me. It was something I had dealt with most of my life, but I didn’t mind, it often came in handy. People usually wised up after a time.

  “After I handed Bilotti a beating, I took Jeannie to my place.”

  “Heir apparent?” Virginia asked.

  “It’s not like that,” I said. “I figured after Bilotti sobered up he’d come looking for her and I didn’t want him to find her is all.”

  I was pretty sure Virginia wasn’t buying it, but it was all I had to sell.

  “She took the bedroom, I took the sofa,” I said. “When I woke, she was gone.”

  “So she’s your alibi,” Virginia said.

  Smart girl.

  “Look Mr. Rossi, I’m sorry the police are after you, but I don’t know where Jeannie is. I haven’t seen her since the show yesterday. She didn’t show for rehearsal or for the show tonight.”

  “She didn’t show up at your place, the one you share together?”

  Virginia smiled. “I told you, I don’t know where she is,” she said.

  She was lying about the apartment, but I couldn’t tell about the other part. If Virginia had seen her, it seemed likely Jeannie would have told Virginia everything and asked what to do about it. There was too much Virginia didn’t know for that to have happened.

  “Your ten minutes are up, Mr. Rossi,” Virginia said and stood. “I need to get back to work.”

  “I’m in a bit of a jam here. I understand you don’t know me. But maybe you should tell your friend to be careful. The police will be looking for her and they probably won’t be the only ones. This could get ugly.”

  “I already told you, Mr. Rossi, I don’t know where Jeannie is.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Only it doesn’t ring true, you being such good friends and all. The farm girl and the Texan.”

  “Farm girl?” Virginia said. “That some kind of slight?”

  “Not if you’re from a farm,” I said. “Like Jeannie was.”

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mr. Rossi. Jeannie was no milkmaid, and as far as I know, there are no farms in Chicago.”

  If I had been standing, a feather would have knocked me over.

  Thirteen

  I PULLED ANOTHER chip from my pocket and laid it on the table next to my empty plate of pie. The apple was good, but it did little to lighten my mood. Jeannie had lied about her origins, but that didn’t surprise me as much as the truth. Jeannie was from Chicago. Bilotti was from Chicago. I had learned long ago not to believe in coincidences.

  I was pretty sure Jeannie shared an apartment with Virginia and I was pretty sure she was holed up in that apartment. What I didn’t know was where it was. That meant I needed to tail Virginia. It would be several hours before she would be off work, so I headed back to my digs at the Sands. I had packing to do.

  The grounds at the Sands were some of the best in Las Vegas. The goal was to make you forget you were in a sandy, dusty, desert full of snakes, scorpions, and coyotes—and those were just the ones in the casino. Out the back doors, you stepped into a manicured garden so fine, it’d make the Queen of Siam jealous. Dome-shaped bushes and trees cut in layers surrounded grass-lined walkways dotted with olive trees. In the middle sat the pool.

  Cabanas—hotel rooms on two stories—bordered the whole area on all sides. The position of the rooms blocked out the desert and created the feeling of being in an oasis. My little palm tree was on the first floor of the third set of rooms on the right. I started down the hall and noticed two men standing near the exit at the opposite end. I didn’t pay them much mind, but I should have listened to my big toe, it was itching. I was almost halfway down the hall when the two men made their move. I had a choice, go for my key and slip into my room or go for my gun. I went for the gun.

  Unfortunately, I missed the two coming up behind me, but they made their presence known with a sap across the back of my head. It would have knocked me out cold had I not caught the movement out of the corner of my eye. I ducked just in time to avoid the full impact. For all the good it did me. As soon as I turned, I took one on the jaw and another in the breadbasket. I threw a wild punch, hoping it would connect. It didn’t. But the one from the guy behind me did—square in the eye.

  I had little choice but to employ the old boxer move. I pulled my arms up and curled my fists around my face for protection, just as the onslaught came. I wasn’t quick enough to count the punches, but there were enough to do the job. I was back against the wall, absorbing the blows, about ready to collapse when I heard a yell coming from down the hallway.

  “Hey there!” the male voice yelled out. “You stop that!”

  It was a perfectly good order, delivered quite forcefully, but it was one my new friends weren’t terribly inclined to follow, and I knew it. With their attention on the guy in the hall, I struck. I landed the first blow on the biggest fellow, hitting him right on the side of the head. I kicked a second in the shin and then swung a haymaker with all my might. This time it connected good, right under a third’s jaw. He dropped to the ground.

  The guy in the hall turned out to be security and his presence alone seemed to do the trick. My three friends grabbed their fallen compadre and beat cleats down the hallway in the opposite direction. I collapsed to the ground. The security officer was a large man, but I doubt it had much of an effect on their decision to leave. My money was on them not wanting to dispose of a body and a witness. Still, I was grateful he showed when he did.

  “Are you all right mister?” security asked.

  I didn’t feel much like answering. Stars and little birdies were dancing in circles above my head. The security officer split into two, then came back into one. We had maneuvered into rough seas and the hallway was starting to list. I made a mental note to complain to the captain when I saw him.

  “Just stay there,” security said. “I’ll get help.”

  My vision wasn’t as clear as it was when I entered the hallway, but I was pretty sure the blur moving away from me was the security officer. My hat was resting on the carpet next to me. It had a dent in it. I was sure my head had a matching one. I grabbed my hat and managed to get first to my knees and then my feet. The birds were really chirping and I knew I didn’t have much time.

  I pulled the key from my pocket and tried it in the first door I came to. Nothing. I pressed myself against the wall to keep it from falling, tried a few more doors, and got lucky on the fourth attempt. I was hoping it was my room. Why wouldn’t it be? It was my key after all. But I didn’t care if it was my room or not. I was more concerned with getting out of the hallway before security got back. He didn’t seem to recognize me and that suited me just fine.

  I closed the door behind me, slid the lock, and stood there, resting against it, trying to get the noodles that had replaced my legs to work. I pulled my hat off and threw it in the chair’s direction. Then I reached behind my head to access the damage. My hair was there, so was my skull. That was good news. But it stung when I touched it and there was a sticky substance I was pretty sure was my own blood. I would have tasted it to make sure, but I couldn’t find my mouth.

  Outside the door I heard footsteps running down the hall. They stopped close to my room.

  “I swear he was here when I left him,” a voice said. I recognized it as the
security officer that had helped me before.

  “Well, he’s not here now,” another man said.

  “Where do you suppose he got to?” the first man asked. “He was taking a pretty good beating. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

  How right he was.

  “I don’t know,” the second man said. “Let’s check the grounds just to make sure.”

  I waited for the two men to leave before trying out my new legs. They weren’t working so good. In fact, they only lasted a couple of steps before they gave out. I hit the ground hard, but I didn’t mind. It was softer than the door.

  I laid there for a moment, trying not to vomit. I knew who the men were that attacked me. I didn’t know their names, but I knew who had sent them. Chicago knew about Bilotti and they knew about me. It was only a matter of time before they put two and two together and came up with four goons.

  I managed to get back to my knees, but knew I wasn’t going any higher. I pulled off my jacket and left it on the floor, then crawled into the bathroom. The tile was cool and it felt good. I pulled a white face towel from the counter where I had left it and tossed it into the sink. I could barely reach the knobs and prayed I could tell hot from cold. When the cloth was covered in water, I pulled it from the sink and pressed it against the back of my head, the cool water dripped down my neck. The cloth wouldn’t stay white for long, neither would my shirt. I loosened my tie and top two buttons. I pulled my gun out of its holster and pressed it behind the toilet between the bowl and the wall, then rested my head on the seat. The fog was rolling in and there was no lighthouse in sight.

  I was in that same position the next morning when someone pounded on my door.

  Fourteen

  IT TOOK SEVERAL minutes before I even realized the pounding was coming from the door and not my head. It took me even longer to get to my feet. Frankly, I was surprised I was still above ground. I headed for the door after stopping to pick up my jacket and lay it on the end of the bed.