by Paul W Papa
I headed over to the table games. Bobby was in the main pit. I caught his attention and he met me at the end, near the craps table.
“Mr. Rossi, we’ve been so worried,” he said.
“It’s all right Bobby,” I said. “It’s not the first time someone’s tried to smoke me.”
“It seems our little hotel is becoming quite a dangerous place for you to be,” Bobby said. “I hope that won’t persuade you to find other accommodations. I have already made arrangements for another room and have taken the liberty of moving your effects. At least the ones the police allowed me to move. The lieutenant is quite a stickler.”
“He’s a gas all right,” I said. “I appreciate you moving my items, but it won’t be necessary. I’ve got a place in town now.”
“Oh, so you’ll be staying then,” Bobby said more than asked. He hesitated for just a moment, looked down the pit, then turned back to me. “That is wonderful news,” he said. “Shall I arrange a spot on a table for you?”
“No thanks,” I said. “But I could use your help.”
“Anything you need,” he said and glanced quickly at his wristwatch.
“The couple that were in the room with me; his big brother is here in town. I already got him something to eat, but he needs a place to stay.”
“Certainly. I’ll arrange a room. What is his name?”
“Vic,” I said. “Victor Cremonesi.”
“Consider it taken care of.”
“No comp,” I said. “Vic wants to pay his own way.”
Bobby looked puzzled. “Are you sure? I’m happy to comp his room. It’s the least we can do.”
“It’s what he wants,” I said.
“As you wish,” Bobby said and glanced back down the pit, before checking his watch again.
I wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Nothing seemed out of place to me, but then again, I wasn’t a pit boss. I left Bobby and headed back to Vic. By the time we got his suitcase out of the car and came back inside, Bobby had taken care of everything. Good ol’ Bobby. Vic needed shut eye, so I pointed him to his room.
“I’ll check on you in the morning,” I said. “And take you back to the hospital.” Vic thanked me. He shook my hand and headed out into the garden area. I needed rest too, and I should have gone home, my shoulder was sending me hate mail, but I didn’t listen. Something wasn’t sitting right with me, so I headed back to the pit.
When I got near, I could see Bobby still in the pit, and still preoccupied with his watch. Something struck me as being off. It was nothing I could put my finger on, but something just didn’t seem right. I thought before that Bobby was looking at the pit, now I realized he was looking toward the door to the outside. I sat at a slot machine near the pit and waited.
It took about ten minutes for Bobby’s relief to show, and as soon as he did, Bobby left the pit and headed toward the back of the casino. I followed. Don’t ask me why. I couldn’t tell you. Maybe it was my big toe that was itching. Maybe the pain in my shoulder was leading me astray. Whatever it was, I stayed behind Bobby as he made his way through slot machines toward the employee area at the back of the house.
I guess my jitters had gotten the better of me. Bobby was just eager to go on break, staring at his watch, counting down the minutes. I was about to turn away when he suddenly took an abrupt turn and headed for one of the side doors leading out. He slipped through the door, pausing only briefly to look back. I turned away, gave him a minute, then headed for the door myself. I opened it slowly to make sure he wasn’t standing on the other side. He wasn’t, so I went outside, being sure to stay in the shadows. A few people were walking around the front of the place, but for the most part, the street was empty. Bobby had made his way to the same phone booth I had used earlier and was just stepping inside.
I waited while Bobby made his phone call. He seemed agitated. He was talking with his hands—something I thought only Italians did—and while I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I could tell he wasn’t happy. When he finished, he pressed the receiver back into its cradle and left the booth. He took a quick look around, straightened his jacket, and headed my way.
I slipped inside the casino and went over to the pit. I stood behind a young couple at the craps table and watched as Bobby made his way back to the employee area. He walked with purpose and, thankfully, didn’t look over even once.
“Playing the spy?” the voice said from behind me.
Thirty-Two
I TURNED TO find Virginia standing there. She was wearing an orange flower-patterned knee-length dress with a keyhole neckline. The view was nice from here. “You always sneak up on people?” I asked.
“Only when I’m being nosey,” she said. “Why are you staring at Bobby Hill?”
“Not staring,” I said. “Contemplating. I need to ask him something and I was thinking about catching him before he got to the break area.”
“And?”
“And I decided to let the man have his break. What are you doing?”
“My job,” she said and flashed me a 40-watter. “Mingling between shows.”
“Doesn’t mingling involve walking around?”
“Sick of me already?”
“Bite your tongue,” I said.
She stuck her tongue between her teeth and bit down lightly, then winked at me. I forgot why I was there.
“You’re here awful late,” she said. “Don’t you have a pad to go to?”
“I do, but it’s boring there.”
“You’re a man of action are you?”
“What did you do with Virginia?” I asked. I wasn’t sure how to take this version. Up until now, everything had been all business. This Virginia seemed more interested in back seat bingo or perhaps she was playing a bit. Maybe I was getting the stage show Virginia.
“Kind of a wet blanket aren’t you?” she said.
“It’s been a long day,” I said. “And my blanket’s been wet since someone took out Bilotti.”
“You look like you could use a drink.” Virginia said.
“I could use about six of them,” I countered.
“Well, how about we start with one,” she said and turned toward the bar.
I followed Virginia from the crap table to the Silver Queen. The view was just as good from the rear. Freddy Bell and the Bell Boys were still the head act in the lounge. They were just finishing Giddy Up a Ding Dong when we entered.
“Shall we take a table?” Virginia asked. Who was I to argue?
She asked for a table near the back and I tipped the man, as he showed us to our seats. I ordered a manhattan and Virginia ordered a tom collins.
“I thought you were on the clock,” I said.
“I am. It’s my job to schmooze high rollers between shows.”
“Is that what I am?”
“It’s what you’re treated as,” she said. “You have a suite and you always seem to be at the tables. I’d say you’re on your way to becoming a whale.”
“I feel more like a minnow lately.”
“Well, at least you’re shaved.”
There was that. The waitress brought our drinks. I took a healthy swig; Virginia sipped hers. “Were you looking for me or did you just happen to stumble upon me?” I asked.
“You didn’t finish your sandwich,” she said. “And you left rather abruptly. I…” She paused. “Well, I guess I was a little worried about you. I could have driven you back to the Sands, you know.”
I did know. I also knew that if I stayed any longer at her apartment, I might never have wanted to leave. I could be just like Jeannie. Two leaves floating in the wind that no one ever found. Who would be the wiser? Except the noose was tightening and I was running out of time. But what was I doing? Sitting in a bar having a drink with a Copa Girl. A beautiful Copa Girl; a Copa Girl who was relying on me to find her friend. Just as if nothing mattered in life. Just as if the mob wasn’t trying to take me out or the police trying to lock me up. Mr. Not A Care in the World has a drink. Have
another you sap, where’s it getting you?
“You don’t look so good,” Virginia said.
I should have had a quick retort, but nothing came to mind. I looked the way I felt and it wasn’t pretty.
“You should put a steak on that eye,” Virginia said.
“A nice T-Bone?” I asked.
“Not a T-Bone,” she countered. “A soft steak, like a ribeye.”
“And how do you know so much about steaks?”
“Jeannie taught me,” she said casually. “Her father was a butcher.”
“Huh,” I said. “That’s the second time I heard about a Chicago butcher today.”
“Really? What was the first?”
“Those two kids who got hit in my room: Tony and Tina. Tony’s big brother is in town. I got him a room here at the Sands. Anyway, he was telling me about a butcher named Collina, and…”
“Collina?” Virginia said interrupting. “That was Jeannie’s name.”
“What do you mean it was her name?”
“Her last name was Collina.” Virginia said. “That was her name when I met her. I told her it was no kind of name for a dancer—too ethnic—and that it needed to be changed. I came up with Gardener on account we both had a crush on Gardner McKay. Jeannie added the extra e.”
“And you didn’t think that was information I needed to know?”
Virginia looked at me sheepishly. She hunched her shoulders and batted her thick eyelashes. “I’m so used to using her stage name, I guess I just forgot.”
I shook my head, downed my drink, laid three bills on the table, and stood. “I gotta make a phone call,” I said.
Thirty-Three
I WENT TO the front desk and picked up the blower. I knew Queeney wasn’t going to be there, but I wanted to leave a message with the desk sergeant anyway. “Tell him Tony’s brother is in town.” I said, “and we’ll be at the hospital in the morning. He’ll know what it means.”
I should have gone back to Virginia. I should have listened to my father when he told me to come home. I should have done a lot of things, but I didn’t. Instead I went to valet, jumped in my Roadmaster, and headed to Huey’s. Virginia’s revelation had sparked something in me. The events of the past few days began running in my head like a peepshow in a Mutoscope.
My father once told me hits were like signatures. Everyone has their own way of doing things and people tend to fall back on old habits. I thought back to the Siegel hit. Shot through the window of his girlfriend’s apartment. The coward’s way of killing a man. If I was being set up, I knew the man who was doing it and I knew just where to find him. I gripped the steering wheel hard and hit the gas.
Huey’s parking lot was full when I arrived. I found a spot and went inside. Manella was sitting in his usual seat at the back of the place, a girl half his age on each arm. Both the Mountain and the Molehill were with him. It didn’t stop me. I made my way to the back of the crowded room and up to his table. As expected, the Mountain cut me off.
“What are you doing here?” he sneered.
“Why if it isn’t Man Mountain Dean,” I said. “How’s the jaw?”
He was about to answer with his fist when Manella spoke. “What do you want Rossi? Can’t you see I’m busy. If you’ve come to say your goodbyes then get on with it. If not, this ain’t the safest place for you to be.”
I pushed past the Mountain and moved closer to Manella, before the Molehill blocked me again. “The beat down wasn’t enough?” I said, a bit louder than I expected. “You tried to take me out?”
Sal’s face hardened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hell if you don’t,” I said. “I may not be a made man, but you can’t just take someone out because you don’t like them. If you’ve got a beef with me, then you settle it with me. There were innocents in that room!”
I said some other things too. Some very loud things that weren’t very nice about his manhood, and maybe his mother. All the while Tina’s image stayed in my head. It was a stupid thing to do and I let my anger get the best of me, take away all my reason and sensibility. Had I been thinking clearly, I never would have put myself between the Mountain and the Molehill; never would have let him get behind me. I also would have seen the first coming for my head.
It rang my bell but good. The Mountain spun me around, while the Molehill hooked my arms from the back. This gave the Mountain free access to my midsection, which he took to with vigor, adding a couple of slaps across the kisser just for good measure.
As the Mountain pulled back his fist for another round, I threw my foot up, catching him right between the legs. His eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to his knees so hard I almost felt sorry for him. I dragged the heel of my shoe down the Molehill’s shin, landing hard onto his foot. He let go and I spun quickly, shoving my fist into his jaw. He took a couple steps backward, trying to catch his balance. I was preparing to throw another his way when someone hooked my arm. Another man came behind me and took hold of my other side. A third wrapped his arm around my neck.
“Get him out of here!” Sal ordered.
The men dragged me backward to the front and pushed me out the door to the ground. Sal followed.
“I don’t know what you’ve got in your head, kid, but you’ve got some nerve coming in here heavy like that. I didn’t order a hit on you and if I did, it certainly wouldn’t have been in one of our own casinos.”
I stood and brushed myself off. “Then how did you know it happened there?” I asked.
“Don’t be a nosebleed, everyone knows what happened,” Sal said. “And I don’t kill women.” He turned to go inside then paused. “Someone’s got it in for you, kid. It ain’t me and it ain’t Chicago.”
“Aren’t you the one who told me to leave?”
“Sure. I told you to leave and I may have even tried to help you on your journey, but I didn’t order a hit and Chicago didn’t ask permission for one either. Go home, Rossi, while you can still walk.”
I spit blood on the ground as Sal went inside. The Molehill recovered and was standing at the door, just in case I got any ideas. I had lots of ideas, but none of them involved going back inside. I pulled the handkerchief from my back pocket and wiped my mouth. As I did the note I had taken from Jeannie’s room fell to the ground.
I picked it up, sent the molehill a cursory glare, and returned to my Roadmaster. I sat behind the wheel and when my eyes focused I opened the note and read the writing a second time. “I can’t do this anymore,” it said. “There has to be another way.” I studied the writing; it looked strangely familiar. Then it hit me like a foul ball to the head. How could I have been so stupid? I started the car, slammed it into drive, and headed back to the Sands, hoping I wasn’t too late.
Thirty-Four
INSTEAD OF VALET, I pulled into the lot at the back of the property—the one used by employees—and waited. About an hour later Bobby Hill walked out the back door, along with several other employees. I hadn’t missed him, after all. Because I didn’t know which vehicle was his, I’d positioned myself toward the rear in a place where I could see the departing cars. I watched Bobby walk through the lot and while I couldn’t see what vehicle he got into, I could tell he was the only person leaving in that row.
I started my Roadmaster and waited for his headlights to appear. He was driving an aqua-blue Plymouth Fury with a white hardtop. I let a couple other employees leave before me, not wanting Bobby to see me in his rearview mirror. I didn’t know if he knew my car, but I didn’t want to take a chance. We pulled off the property and headed north on fifth street, then followed it, passing both Charleston and Freemont, before turning right on Stewart. I did my best to stay far enough behind so it wasn’t obvious to Bobby he was being tailed.
As we passed the hospital on the right, my thoughts went to Tony and Tina lying inside. My gut kicked me just for fun. Bobby turned left on eleventh and I followed. It was just him and me on the street now. A bit too obvious for my l
iking. I knew this part of town; it was one of the places I had happened upon in my search for an apartment, so I turned right on Mesquite and let Bobby continue on his own. I drove down to Thirteenth Street and after finding a place to put the car I got out.
I hoofed it back to Eleventh Street in the dark, then followed it north. The street made a hairpin turn into twelfth, where it dead ended right before Mesquite. Simple cottages lined the street on both sides, each complete with a vehicle in a carport. I continued until I found the aqua-blue Fury. I walked to the front of the car and placed my hand on the hood. It was still warm. This was Bobby’s house.
I moved to the front. The windows were all closed and the drapes pulled, but there was light coming from inside. Enough light, in fact, to show silhouettes; two silhouettes, one male and one definitely female. Of course it could have been Bobby’s wife, but I never saw a ring on his finger, or even his girlfriend, but I was pretty sure I knew who was standing there next to him.
The problem was, I didn’t know what to do next. It had all come together so quickly in my head that I didn’t have time to make a plan. My father wouldn’t have been happy. I moved away from the front door so as not to be obvious and stood near a couple of bushes while I tried to get my head together. The ringing had largely quieted down now, and I was able to piece two thoughts together with much less effort.
As far as I could see it, I had two choices. Go home, get some shuteye, and come back tomorrow with a clear head when Bobby wasn’t here or walk up to the front door and make myself known. It may have seemed like two choices, but there was really only one thing to do, and I knew it. I was about to head to the door, when it suddenly opened and Bobby emerged. Gone was his suit and tie. He was dressed in black slacks, a dark waistcoat, and a newsboy cap. He walked over to his Fury, climbed inside, backed out of the carport, and left.
I waited until he turned at the end of the street and went for the door. I said a quick Hail Mary and prayed it would be unlocked. My prayers were answered. Somebody was looking out for me. As I stepped inside, a female voice came from the other room. It was a voice I recognized.