You Make Me Feel So Dead

by Robert Randisi

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then looked at me. I don’t know if she wanted me to say something to him, but instead I said, ‘We better go.’

  She nodded, and we left the room. Before we got to the waiting room she asked, ‘What’s this appointment you have tonight? Does it have to do with what happened to Danny?’

  ‘It has to do with you, Danny, and Billy Reynolds,’ I said. ‘And yeah, it may have to do with Danny being shot.’

  ‘Then go and keep your appointment, Eddie,’ she said. ‘I’ll be here when Danny wakes up.’

  ‘Are you sure’ I asked. ‘The doctor said he might sleep til morning.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll be here.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back. Jerry and me, we’ll be back. And we’ll bring you some food.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Maybe not now,’ I said, ‘but trust me, you will be.’

  When we got to the waiting room I said, ‘OK, guys, let’s go.’

  I couldn’t remember if Frank and Penny had ever met before, but he went to her and gave her an encouraging hug. Then Elvis did the same thing. Finally, even Jerry hugged her.

  I went over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘See you later.’

  She grabbed a handful of my shirt and said, ‘Be careful.’

  ‘We will.’

  We all left the waiting room, and the hospital.

  SIXTY-NINE

  The better strip clubs in Vegas are usually located on Las Vegas Blvd. ‘Better’ means ‘classier’. Want something dirtier and cheaper? That would take you to Industrial Road. The Star Shine looked to be on the lower edge of the scale as we pulled into the parking lot with Jerry at the wheel. There were about half a dozen cars in the lot. None of them would belong to the strippers, or other employees. Traditionally, they parked in the back.

  ‘How do you wanna play this?’ Frank asked.

  ‘I think Jerry should go in first, get himself seated,’ I said. ‘Then you and I can go in and look for Scaffazza.’

  ‘What about me?’ Elvis demanded.

  ‘You’re gonna stay out here.’

  ‘No I ain’t, either,’ he said, sounding like the little boy he must’ve been in Tupelo. ‘I came along to see some action.’

  ‘This isn’t the kind of action the Colonel wants you around, Elvis,’ I said.

  ‘Frank’s goin’ in,’ he said.

  ‘Frank set up the meeting,’ I said. ‘Scaffazza’s probably going to expect Frank. Besides, that’s the way we’ll recognize each other. I don’t know Scaffazza and he doesn’t know me, but he knows what Frank looks like.’

  ‘Do you think he knows Jerry?’ Frank asked.

  ‘I don’t know the guy,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Yeah, but maybe he’s seen you before,’ Frank said. ‘You’ve been in LA a time or two.’

  ‘I think we’ll have to take the chance,’ I said.

  ‘I’m goin’ in, Eddie,’ Elvis insisted. ‘I’ll keep on the hat and glasses. But if you try to leave me in the car, I’ll just follow

  you in.’

  I looked at Jerry and Frank and they both just shrugged.

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘you go in after Jerry. Don’t sit near him, though. And don’t get any lap dances. A girl in your lap is sure to recognize you.’

  ‘OK, boss,’ he said. ‘Now, how about a gun?’

  ‘Elvis,’ I said, ‘you don’t have a gun on you, do you?’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘that’s why I’m askin’ for one.’

  ‘No guns,’ I said. ‘Jerry’s got a gun. That should be enough if something goes … wrong.’

  ‘If somethin’ does go wrong, Mr Presley,’ Jerry said, ‘just hit the floor.’

  ‘Jerry,’ Elvis said, ‘why don’t ya’all just call me Elvis?’

  ‘Forget it,’ I said. ‘In all these years I can’t even get him to call me Eddie.’

  Jerry went in first. We waited a few minutes and then I said, ‘OK, Elvis, go ahead. Remember what I said.’

  ‘Right,’ Elvis said, ‘stay away from Jerry, and don’t get any lap dances.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, ‘go.’

  Frank and I sat in the Caddy and watched Elvis go inside.

  ‘If this goes sideways …’ I said.

  ‘… the Colonel will have both of our asses.’

  ‘Let’s wait about ten minutes,’ I said, looking at my watch. It was nine fifty-five.

  ‘Frank, is there going to be anyone else with Scaffazza? One of Roselli’s guys?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Frank said. ‘Johnny did say he’d have Scaffazza delivered.’

  ‘I guess we’ll have to wait and see.’

  At ten-oh-five I said, ‘OK, let’s go.’

  We got out of the car and walked to the door. We were almost to it when I remembered something Frank liked to do. Something I should have asked him already.

  ‘Frank,’ I said, ‘you don’t have a gun on you, do you?’

  ‘You bet I do, pally.’

  Suddenly, I wished I had one, too.

  SEVENTY

  Jerry told me later that as soon as he entered the club he knew something was wrong.

  ‘It’s just a feelin’ you get, Mr G.,’ he said, ‘but you learn to trust it after so many years.’

  He looked around, saw several of the tables with one or two men seated at them. There was also a table with about five men, who seemed to be there for some kind of party, maybe a bachelor party. He decided to get a table away from them. He managed to isolate himself toward the back of the room, and waved off two girls who headed straight for him. He did, however, order a $7.00 beer from a waitress.

  ‘Seven dollars, Mr G.!’

  Luckily, he managed to refocus after that shock.

  Elvis walked in, spotted Jerry and simply took a table as far from the big guy as he could. This put him in close proximity to the bachelor party. He also ordered a $7.00 beer, but from a different waitress, and without complaint.

  Frank and I walked in, stopped just inside the door and looked around. There was no way to pick out Joey Scaffazza. However, a man who was sitting with another man stood up and approached us. He was not dressed like a hood – like the two guys who had taken me to Sam Giancana. He was dressed casually with a T-shirt and slacks. If he had a gun on him,

  I couldn’t see it.

  ‘Mr Sinatra?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Frank said.

  The guy looked at me.

  ‘Eddie Gianelli.’

  He nodded and said, ‘Oh, right.’ He looked back at Frank. ‘Mr Roselli said I was to deliver Joey Scaffazza to you. There he is.’

  Scaffazza was a nervous looking guy in his thirties, also dressed casually so he couldn’t hide a gun.

  ‘I’ll be over here,’ the guy said, and walked away. He seated himself at an empty table near Jerry, who eyed the guy critically.

  Frank and I walked over to Scaffazza.

  ‘Joey?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right.’ Scaffazza wasn’t only nervous, he was downright jumpy.

  ‘This is Eddie Gianelli,’ Frank said. ‘He wants to talk to you.’

  ‘So talk,’ Scaffazza said. His sunken eyes had deep shadows beneath them. I didn’t know if this was natural, or from lack of sleep.

  We sat. The bachelor party guys were making a racket with two of the girls who had stopped by their table.

  ‘I had a talk with Sam Giancana the other night,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘He told me to be sure not to kill you.’

  ‘That was nice of Sam.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but that was before a friend of mine was shot. If I find out you had anything to do with that—’

  ‘I didn’t have nothin’ to do with nobody gettin’ shot,’ Scaffazza said. ‘I told that to Mr Roselli.’

  ‘You’re here because I wanted to talk to you about Billy Reynolds. The other shooting happened just this morning.’


  ‘I wasn’t even here this mornin’,’ Scaffazza said. ‘We just got in from LA a couple of hours ago.’ He jerked his chin. ‘You can check with that mook.’

  ‘I will,’ I said. ‘Tell me about Reynolds.’

  He frowned and bit the inside of his cheek, then went to work on a non-existent thumbnail.

  ‘Come on, Joey,’ Frank said. ‘Don’t make me have to tell Johnny you weren’t cooperative.’ Then he added, ‘Or Momo.’

  ‘Look, Mr Sinatra,’ Joey said. ‘I know you’re good friends with Mr Giancana. Can you get me to Chicago … alive?’

  ‘Probably,’ Frank said. ‘Depends on how cooperative you are.’

  ‘I’m sure that stronzo over there has orders to kill me,’ Joey said. ‘I ain’t never gettin’ back to LA alive.’

  ‘We’ll get you to Chicago,’ I said. ‘But you’ve got to talk to me.’

  Scaffazza scratched an armpit and asked, ‘Whataya wanna know?’

  ‘Who killed Billy Reynolds?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘but I can guess.’

  ‘So guess.’

  ‘Johnny.’

  ‘You’re sayin’ Roselli came here and killed him?’ I asked.

  ‘Naw, naw, but he had him killed.’

  ‘By who?’

  ‘Again, I’m guessin’ here.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Frankie Bonpensiero.’

  ‘And who’s he?’ I asked.

  ‘One of Johnny’s top button men.’

  ‘Why would he send Bonpensiero here to kill Reynolds?’ I asked.

  ‘Reynolds was doin’ business on Johnny’s turf,’ Scaffazza said. ‘Worse, he was makin’ money, which means he was takin’ money from Johnny.’

  ‘That’s worth killin’ over,’ Frank said.

  ‘Where’s Bonpensiero now?’ I asked.

  ‘Who knows?’ Scaffazza asked. ‘Probably back in LA. And if it wasn’t him it was one of Johnny’s other guys. So what I’m sayin’ is Johnny killed your guy.’

  I looked at Frank. ‘Why try to pin it on Danny? When the mob orders a hit isn’t it supposed to send a message?’

  ‘There ain’t so many hits bein’ done, anymore,’ Scaffazza said. ‘The button guy – Bonpensiero, or whoever – probably wanted it to look like somethin’ else.’

  ‘A crime of passion,’ Frank said. ‘Maybe he just took advantage of the fact that Reynolds was Penny’s old boyfriend, and Penny worked for Danny.’

  I looked at Scaffazza. ‘Why should I believe you?’

  ‘Hey,’ Scaffazza said, ‘I could lie to you, but why should I? You’re gonna keep me alive long enough to get to Chicago, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Frank said, ‘if we believe you.’

  ‘Were you workin’ with Reynolds?’

  Scaffazza hesitated, then said, ‘Well, yeah, I was.’

  ‘Then why didn’t Roselli have you killed?’

  ‘Politics.’

  ‘What do you mean, politics? What kinda politics?’ I asked.

  ‘I think Johnny knew all along that I was workin’ for Mr Giancana,’ Scaffazza said. ‘So he fired me, but didn’t have me killed.’

  ‘But he killed Reynolds.’

  ‘Reynolds wasn’t in the family,’ Scaffazza said. ‘He had to be killed.’

  ‘Then what makes you think you’re gonna be killed here, in Vegas?’ I asked.

  ‘Because it’s Vegas,’ Scaffazza said. ‘Anythin’ can happen in Vegas, right? Even though Johnny runs Vegas for the mob, he can claim I got killed over a girl, or a gambling debt.’ He gnawed on his thumb. ‘Or maybe I’m wrong and he’s not gonna have me killed. But I don’t wanna take the chance.’

  I sat back in my chair and looked at Frank. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It makes sense to me,’ Frank said, ‘as much as this crazy mob shit can make sense.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘so Reynolds was hit by the mob. They tried to pin it on Danny. How do I prove that? They still insist it was Danny’s gun.’

  Frank shrugged.

  ‘What’s Bonpensiero look like?’ I asked.

  ‘Tall, dark-haired,’ Scaffazza said. ‘He’s got these powerful lookin’ shoulders and chest, but he carries a gut with him.’

  That rang a bell. Why?

  ‘Who else was Reynolds workin’ with?’ I asked.

  ‘He had a crew.’

  ‘What about them?’ I asked. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Scaffazza said. ‘I wouldn’t know them if they was sittin’ at the next table.’

  For some reason that made me look over at the bachelor party just as the five guys produced guns and stood up, upsetting their table.

  ‘Down!’ I shouted.

  SEVENTY-ONE

  I pushed Frank down and upset our own table. Scaffazza had already moved.

  Elvis had been sitting right near the five party guys. He stood up now, picked up a chair and threw it at them. At the same time Jerry got up and pulled his forty-five. Roselli’s delivery boy produced a gun from somewhere – ankle holster? – and he and Jerry started shooting. The girls started screaming and running for cover, as did the other customers.

  From the floor, Frank pulled out his gun – a silver .38 – and started firing.

  A couple of the bachelor party guys got off some shots, the others had ducked the chair Elvis threw. It cost them.

  Jerry was deadly with his gun, I’d seen him do it before, and he rarely missed. Plus he’d been ready for trouble, because he’d had a bad feeling from the moment he walked in.

  Elvis did some more chair work, picking up another one and this time slamming it over somebody’s head. I was wishing he had just plastered himself to the floor.

  I heard a couple of bullets hit our overturned table. Frank returned fire. Jerry and Roselli’s man kept firing, and then suddenly it was quiet.

  I lifted my head up for a look.

  The place had emptied out of customers and girls. The only people I saw standing were Jerry and Roselli’s guy. Elvis had finally hit the floor.

  ‘Looks like it’s over,’ Frank said, standing up.

  I was afraid Scaffazza was dead, figuring he was the main target, but he was sitting up with his hand clasped to his arm, blood streaming from between his fingers. Not unscathed, but not dead.

  ‘Mr G.?’

  I turned, saw Jerry standing next to me.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked.

  I looked down at myself, took stock, and said, ‘Yeah, I seem to be. Elvis?’

  The King stood up and waved. ‘I’m OK.’

  I turned and looked at Roselli’s guy.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yeah’

  He walked over to the bachelor party, checked out the bodies.

  ‘They’re all dead.’

  ‘Frank?’

  ‘I’m OK.’

  I righted our table, and a chair, and helped Scaffazza into it.

  ‘What the fuck!’ he said.

  ‘Those guys must have been Reynolds’ crew,’ I said. I couldn’t figure it any other way.

  ‘Amateurs,’ Roselli’s guy said, ‘so you’re probably right’

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked him.

  ‘Sal.’

  ‘Sal’s got a point,’ Jerry said. ‘They never should have sat together, shouldn’t have been makin’ that much noise.’

  ‘Did you guys drive here?’ I asked Sal.

  ‘Yeah, we did.’

  ‘They must’ve followed you,’ I said, ‘figured to kill Joey in Vegas – and you.’

  ‘Scumbags,’ Sal said. ‘You’re right, they never would’ve tried this in LA. Johnny would’ve had their nuts.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘everybody out.’

  ‘What?’ Jerry said.

  ‘You’ve got to scram out of here before the cops get here.’

  ‘What about you?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘I’m gonna stay,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna try to pin Reynolds’ death on these guys. Or at l
east prove that it could have been somebody other than Danny. For that I need to stay.’

  ‘I’m stayin’, too,’ Frank said.

  ‘Frank—’

  ‘I’m sure somebody recognized me,’ he said. ‘The cops would come lookin’ for me, anyway. I might as well face the music, now.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘but give your gun to Jerry.’

  ‘Good idea.’ He handed it over.

  ‘Mr G.—’

  ‘If you stay, Jerry, they’re gonna toss your ass in a cell because of your gun – and maybe for killin’ some of these guys. You, too, Sal. Get out.’

  ‘Who you gonna say killed them?’ Sal asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Me and Frank were sittin’ here having a drink with our buddy Joey when suddenly two sets of guys started shooting. These guys ended up dead, and the other ones took off.’

  Sal thought it over and said, ‘That could work.’

  ‘It better work,’ I said. ‘Now get out. I think I hear sirens.’

  ‘What about me?’ Scaffazza asked.

  ‘You’re goin’ to the hospital,’ I said, ‘and after that, Chicago.’

  ‘What if they lock my ass up?’

  ‘I’ve got a good Jewish lawyer for you.’

  SEVENTY-TWO

  The first car to respond brought two uniformed cops, one of whom was impressed with Frank.

  The second vehicle to arrive was an ambulance, with two attendants, one of whom was impressed with Frank.

  All the customers were gone, and the girls had gone home, so there were no witnesses. The club manager talked to the two cops, saying he wasn’t sure which girls were on and which were off. It was going to take a while to put together the facts of who was there, let alone who saw what. It would fall to the detectives.

  When the detectives arrived I was pleased to see that it was not Hargrove and his partner, Martin. However, that feeling didn’t last for long. About fifteen minutes later, while Frank and I were being questioned and Scaffazza was being bandaged, Hargrove walked in with Martin trailing behind.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘I knew when I heard Sinatra’s name I was going to find you here, Eddie.’ He looked around. ‘Come on, bullets flying all around? Where’s the big guy?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Epstein.’

  ‘Jerry wasn’t here.’