You Make Me Feel So Dead

by Robert Randisi

  He didn’t realize that I would simply think he had done what I’d asked him to do, and thank him.

  ‘They’re trying to find a way to keep him inside,’ Kaminsky told me.

  ‘But you have the bail money.’

  ‘Apparently, they didn’t think we’d be able to raise the bond,’ Kaminsky said. ‘That we did has surprised them.’

  ‘What can you do?’

  ‘What Kaminsky usually does,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get him out. It’ll just take more time. Meanwhile, what have you got

  for me?’

  ‘Not much, yet,’ I said. ‘I’m working on Danny’s active case, trying to find a man he was looking for. I’m thinking he might have done the murder and framed Danny to get him off his trail.’

  ‘Is what he has to hide worth murder?’ Kaminsky asked.

  ‘A couple of million dollars that’s not rightfully his.’

  ‘That sounds like it’s worth murder,’ Kaminsky said. ‘OK, keep at it, bubula. Kaminsky’s counting on you.’

  I hung up thinking, yeah, so is Danny.

  It was just under a hundred miles back to Vegas. We would’ve gotten back before dark but Elvis wanted to stop and eat.

  ‘You had two ninety-eight cent chicken dinners,’ I reminded him.

  ‘They were small,’ he said. ‘Come on, son. Don’t tell me you’re not a little hungry?’

  ‘I could eat,’ I admitted.

  It almost felt like travelling with Jerry.

  We stopped in a diner along the way, ate and got back on the road.

  ‘When are you supposed to perform?’ I asked.

  ‘Tomorrow night.’

  ‘Don’t you have to rehearse?’ I asked. ‘Am I keeping you from—’

  ‘My guys have to rehearse,’ Elvis said. He took the hat and glasses off, ran his fingers through his mass of dark hair. ‘I know my part, don’t I?’

  ‘I guess so,’ I said. ‘If you don’t, who does?’

  ‘I suppose this case you’re workin’ on will keep you from comin’ to my show?’

  ‘Probably,’ I said. ‘Besides, Frank’s gonna be there. Why, do you need me?’

  ‘I’ll leave a ticket for you at the box office,’ he said. ‘Two, in case you want to bring somebody.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Eddie,’ he said, ‘tell me about you and Danny.’

  ‘We grew up in the same neighborhood in Brooklyn,’ I said. ‘Him, me and my brother. They were friends, really. I became friends with him after my brother was killed.’

  ‘Older or younger.’

  ‘Older,’ I said. ‘I looked up to him. After he died my family – well, it kind of got ripped apart. My father went crazy, I think, and my mother couldn’t get over it.’

  ‘Did they stay together, your parents?’

  ‘They did, but pretty much lived separate lives. She died last year.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose your mama.’

  ‘Unlike you, I hadn’t seen her for a while,’ I said. ‘I went back to Brooklyn for the funeral, but that was a bad idea. My family, what’s left – my father, my sister – have no use for me.’

  ‘That’s too bad,’ he said. ‘My dad, Vernon, lives at Graceland with me. He takes care of my correspondence.’

  ‘It’s nice to have your dad working with you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘we keep an eye on each other.’

  ‘What about Red, Sonny and the others?’

  ‘I like havin’ them around,’ Elvis said.

  ‘I think Red would do anything for you.’

  ‘He’s been protecting me since high school,’ Elvis said.

  ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘A few boys cornered me in the boys’ bathroom one day. They were making fun of my hair, said they was gonna cut it. Red took it upon himself to step in. He kicked their asses, and we been friends from that day on.’

  ‘Still lookin’ out for you, from what I can see,’ I said. ‘He doesn’t like me, much.’

  ‘Give him time,’ Elvis said. ‘When he sees you don’t want anythin’ from me, he’ll change his mind.’

  ‘What do you think they’ve been doin’ while you’ve been with me?’ I asked.

  ‘What they usually do,’ Elvis said. ‘Gettin’ in trouble. They’re good ol’ boys, they don’t mean no harm. But they do get rowdy, sometimes.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘when we get back you can check on them. I’ll check in with Jerry and Dean, see what they’ve found.’

  ‘And Frank?’ he said. ‘You think he’ll be back from LA? I’d like to hear about his meeting with Johnny Roselli.’

  ‘So would I,’ I said.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  When we got back to Vegas I dropped Elvis at the Riviera, promised to let him know what was going on. From there I drove to the Sands, where I intended to look for Jerry, Frank, Dean, or any combination of the three.

  I found Jerry first.

  ‘Mr G.!’

  I turned, saw him coming across the lobby toward me.

  ‘I was looking for you,’ I said.

  ‘And I was lookin’ for you,’ he said. ‘When did you get back?’

  ‘Just now. Did you talk to your man, Cantrell?’

  ‘I did. What about you?’

  ‘Yeah, we found Ed Rosette in Laughlin,’ I said. ‘Let’s get a drink and exchange information. Then I’ll call Dino and Frank and see what they’ve got.’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, ‘Mr S. went to LA to see Johnny Roselli. I wanna hear about that.’

  ‘You know Roselli?’ I asked.

  ‘I seen him,’ he said, ‘but I wouldn’t say I know him.’

  ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘I’ll buy you a beer …’

  I didn’t take Jerry to the bar in the casino, but to a special VIP lounge we have for high rollers. Luckily, no one was in there at the time except for a single bartender. I didn’t want our conversation to be overheard by anyone.

  I got two beers from the bartender, then we sat at one of the tables furthest away from the bar.

  ‘OK, why don’t you give me your story first,’ I suggested.

  ‘Sure thing, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘My guy’s name was Howard Cantrell. He lives in a flophouse, does nothing but drink all day, and I don’t think he’s Albert Kroner. The only thing I found suspicious about him, was that he got nervous when I mentioned the cops.’

  ‘Why’d you mention the cops?’

  ‘He brought ’em up first,’ Jerry said. ‘Said I sounded like a cop.’

  ‘You don’t sound like any cop I ever met.’

  ‘Right? Damn it, what a thing to say to me, huh? Anyway, I took him for a drink and tried to find out more about him. Turns out he’s a pickpocket, which is why he spends so much time in bars and doesn’t want anything to do with cops.’

  ‘A pickpocket living in a flophouse would be a great cover for someone who embezzled two million dollars.’

  ‘Yeah, it would,’ Jerry said, ‘but I don’t think it’s him. What about your guy?’

  ‘My guy was Ed Rosette,’ I said. ‘He has a house in Bullhead City, Arizona, but he works across the lake in Laughlin, Nevada at the Riverside Casino Resort.’

  ‘Is he a dealer?’

  ‘That’s what I thought we were gonna find,’ I said, ‘either a dealer or a bartender, but it turns out he’s the janitor at the motel. He’s also a Mr Fix-It around there, can repair anything, especially anything electrical.’

  ‘Well, a janitor, that’d be a good cover for somebody who don’t want people to know he’s got millions. But do we know if our Mr Kroner knows anything about fixin’ stuff?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘we don’t. I want to talk to Danny about it, but he’s still inside.’

  ‘I thought he was gettin’ bailed out?’

  ‘The cops, the DA and the judge are playin’ fast and loose with the law,’ I said, ‘but Kaminsky is still tryin’. Meanwhile, I don’t think Ed Rosette’s
the guy.’

  ‘So, who does that leave?’

  ‘Dean’s guy, John Golffe.’

  ‘Is he back?’

  ‘I’m about to find out,’ I said. I waved at the bartender and made motions for a phone. He brought it over and plugged it in beneath the table. I dialed Dean’s suite and he picked up.

  ‘Yeah, pally, I got back early,’ he said. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Jerry and me are in the VIP lounge,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you come down and join us? Is Frank back?’

  ‘I think so. You want me to bring him?’

  ‘No, you come down first, and then we’ll call Frank.’

  ‘I’ll be right there.’

  I hung up, kept the phone on the table so I could call Frank later.

  ‘How did it go with Elvis?’ Jerry asked when I hung up.

  ‘You know,’ I said, ‘bein’ with him is almost like bein’ with you.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, even though I can’t carry a tune.’

  ‘It’s the eating,’ I said. ‘We were in the Riverside and they had ninety-eight cent chicken dinners. He had two while we were there, and then he wanted to eat again on the way back.’

  ‘And what’s the weird part of that?’ he asked.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  We had fresh beers on the table when Dean arrived, casually dressed in tan slacks, an open collar polo shirt and loafers. He had a cigarette between the first and second fingers of his right hand. The bartender’s eyes went wide when he walked in.

  ‘What can I get you, Mr Martin?’ he asked.

  ‘Just bring me a club soda, pally,’ Dean said. ‘It’s gettin’ late.’

  Dean sat down with us and the bartender brought him his soda.

  ‘I hope you fellas had better luck than I did,’ he said, ‘because there’s no way my guy is Albert Kroner.’

  Jerry and I remained quiet.

  ‘Well, I can see that’s not good news,’ Dean said.

  I told him about Jerry’s and my experiences with our guys, and how we had already decided it wasn’t them.

  ‘OK,’ Dino said, ‘so what are the chances that Danny got it wrong and it’s not one of those three?’

  ‘I suppose that’s possible,’ I said. ‘I won’t know until I can talk to him.’

  ‘He’s still inside?’ Dean asked.

  ‘Yeah, they’re playin’ games with the bail. Kaminsky’s workin’ on it.’

  ‘If you want a different, more high-profile lawyer I can make some calls,’ Dean said.

  ‘I appreciate it, Dino, but not yet. Danny trusts Kaminsky.’

  ‘OK, but the offer is out there,’ Dean said. ‘I don’t feel I got the job done in Tahoe, so I’d still like to help.’

  ‘Hey,’ I said, ‘you did what you said you’d do. I couldn’t ask for more.’

  ‘OK,’ Dean said, ‘so what about Frank and Johnny Roselli?’

  ‘That’s next,’ I said, ‘and I thought we’d all like to hear it, so I’m gonna ask Frank to come down here.’

  Jerry and Dean nodded and talked between themselves as I dialed the phone.

  ‘Frank?’ I said, when he answered. ‘I’m in the VIP lounge with Jerry and Dino. You wanna join us?’

  Frank came down, dressed as casually as Dino was. He sat with us and had the bartender bring him a Martini.

  ‘How’d you boys all make out?’ he asked, and listened patiently to our stories.

  ‘Where’s the king?’ he asked, with only the slightest hint of irony in his tone.

  ‘I dropped him at his hotel,’ I said. ‘He’s got to connect with his people, and he has a show to do tomorrow night.’

  ‘We’re all goin’, right?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Definitely,’ Dean said.

  ‘Yeah, Jerry and I are goin’,’ I said.

  ‘We are?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘Elvis is leavin’ two tickets at the box office for us.’

  ‘That’s great.’

  ‘Frank?’ I said. ‘How did things go with Johnny Roselli?’

  ‘We had a nice lunch, danced around each other for a while before we got down to business.’

  ‘Did he know Reynolds?’

  ‘He says no,’ Frank replied, ‘but he knew Scaffazza. Had nothin’ good to say about him, called him names and said he fired him.’

  ‘I thought “fired” meant “dead” in those circles,’ I said.

  ‘That was the old Mafia,’ Dean said. ‘This is the new Mafia.’

  ‘Johnny would’ve killed him if he could get away with it,’ Frank said. ‘I mean, if he really felt the way he was tellin’ me.’

  ‘Do you think he was coverin’ for the guy?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘You know, I might think that,’ Frank said, ‘but for one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Dean asked.

  ‘He says he’s gonna deliver Scaffazza to us here, so we can talk to him.’

  ‘“Deliver”?’ Jerry said. ‘Now that does sound like dead.’

  ‘In the desert dead,’ Dino agreed.

  ‘Well, he’s supposed to call and tell me where we can meet Scaffazza.’

  ‘Maybe he’s gonna let Scaffazza talk to us and then kill ’im,’ Jerry said.

  ‘I don’t mean to sound crass, but as long as we get to talk to him, I don’t really care what happens to him afterward.’

  ‘Atta boy, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘You’re learnin’.’

  FIFTY-SIX

  We left the VIP lounge like four fighters going back to their own corners. Frank was the only one who seemed to have scored some points. With Dean, Jerry and I all thinking that our guy was not Albert Kroner, we were back where we started. Frank was the only one who had made some progress.

  Maybe.

  It depended on how true to his word Johnny Roselli was. We wouldn’t know that until he called Frank and came through with a meet with Joey Scaffazza.

  I went out to my own car and drove home to get a good night’s sleep.

  Or so I thought.

  In the middle of the night there was a pounding on my door. Worried that it might be Jerry, or have something to do with Danny, I ran to the door wearing only pajama bottoms.

  When I opened the door it wasn’t Jerry, or Kaminsky, but two guys wearing black suits. They stood with their hands clasped in front of them.

  ‘Eddie Gianelli?’ one of them asked.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Answer your phone.’

  ‘What?’

  The phone rang. He nodded toward it and said, ‘Answer it.’

  I kept my eyes on them while I moved to the phone and picked it up.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Go with them.’

  ‘Frank?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s me,’ Frank said. ‘Go with them, Eddie. It’s OK.’

  ‘Yeah, but …’ He hung up before I could ask anything else. I hung up and looked at the two men at the door.

  ‘OK?’ the spokesman asked.

  ‘Just let me put something on.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  I went back to my bedroom to get dressed. I thought about going out the window, and might have if Frank hadn’t called. Instead I put on jeans, a T-shirt, a windbreaker and a pair of sneakers.

  ‘OK,’ I said, at the door. I started to think of them as Number One (the spokesman) and Number Two. ‘Do I follow you, or—’

  ‘We’ll take you,’ Number One said, ‘and bring you back.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’

  I followed them to a black sedan parked in front of the house. They both got in front, and I got in the back. No restraints, no blindfold, and the doors were not locked. There didn’t seem to be anything to worry about.

  Yet.

  The windows were tinted dark, so it was hard for me to see where we were going. I could see out the front windshield, but their heads were in the way and I wasn’t picking up much that would help me.

  Finally, the car stopped and the driver – Number Two
– turned off the engine.

  ‘We’re here,’ Number One said.

  ‘Where, exactly?’ I asked.

  ‘Here,’ was all he said. ‘You can get out.’

  They got out, so I had no choice but to follow. I closed the back door behind me and looked at the house we were in front of. It was a large, wood-framed house, two stories, not a mansion, but way beyond my means.

  ‘This way,’ Number One said.

  I followed them up the walk, which was encouraging. If they had been taking me somewhere, one of them would have been in front of me and one behind.

  We didn’t go to the front, but to a side door that was a few steps down. Number Two used a key to enter, and I followed them in. He turned on a light and I saw three steps going down.

  ‘Down there,’ Number Two said.

  ‘By myself?’

  ‘We’ll be waitin’ here,’ he promised, ‘to take you back.’

  I hesitated, then shrugged and said, ‘OK.’

  I went down the stairs, found myself in what, for want of a better word, I’ll call a rec room. Tiled floor, wood-paneled walls, a bar against one wall. In the center was a table with four chairs. Seated at the table, eating, was an older man wearing dark glasses. He was working on something with a knife and fork. He cut it, put a piece in his mouth, and then looked up at me.

  ‘Scungilli,’ Sam Giancana said to me. ‘You want some, Eddie?’

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  ‘I’m not a snail guy, Momo,’ I said, then, thinking better of it, I said, ‘Mr Giancana.’

  ‘No, no,’ he said, ‘you can call me Momo. Come, sit. Have some wine, at least.’

  I walked to the table and sat across from him. I may not have liked snails, but the marinara sauce it had been prepared in smelled good. He poured me a glass of red wine, then picked up his knife and fork.

  ‘I had this brought in from the Bootlegger restaurant,’ Giancana said. ‘Frank always spoke very highly of it. It’s not as good as what we have in Chicago, but eh! It will do.’ He put another bite into his mouth. His suit jacket was draped over the back of his chair. He had a cloth napkin around his neck so he wouldn’t get sauce on his white shirt.

  I drank some wine.