The Way You Die Tonight

by Robert Randisi

  ‘Are we going to see Mr Denby or Mr Sloane?’ I asked.

  ‘Mr Sloane is away on business,’ she said. I guessed that meant we were seeing Mr Denby.

  I looked for Emily along the way, but didn’t see her. However, when we finally got to Mr Denby’s door the woman sitting at the desk outside it was Emily. She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on at my house that morning.

  Three cherries!

  Jackpot!

  ‘Here are the gentlemen to see Mr Denby,’ she said. ‘They represent Frank Sinatra.’

  ‘What?’ Emily lifted her head and when she saw us her crest fell. (I’ve always wanted to say that.)

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked me.

  ‘Came to see your boss.’

  Emily gave the other girl a murderous look. I assumed that, at the mention of Frank’s name, the young girl had neglected to check with Emily before she allowed us to come up.

  ‘That’ll be all, Nancy,’ she said, icicles hanging from every word. Nancy skulked away, knowing that she was in trouble.

  ‘You can’t see Mr Denby,’ Emily said.

  ‘Why not?’ I asked, pointing. ‘Isn’t he right behind that door?’

  ‘Eddie,’ she said, ‘I can explain—’

  ‘You mean why you came to my house this morning and let a couple of goons in to beat the crap out of me? Yeah, I’d kinda like to hear an explanation for that, but why don’t we do it in front of your boss.’

  ‘Eddie—’

  ‘Announce us, Emily,’ I said, leaning my palms on the desk, ‘or my friend Jerry, here, will pick up this desk and use it to knock down the door.’

  She looked at Jerry and immediately knew he was capable of doing it. She picked up her phone and pressed one button.

  ‘Mr Denby? Eddie Gianelli and …’

  ‘… Jerry Epstein,’ I supplied.

  ‘… Jerry Epstein are here to see you. They’re from, uh, the Sands Hotel and Casino. Yes, sir.’ She hung up. ‘I’ll take you in.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  SEVENTY-ONE

  We followed her through the door to her boss’ office. When she closed the door we were all inside.

  ‘Mr Gianelli? I’m Howard Denby.’

  Denby was a tall, handsome man in his fifties who was in pretty good shape. He extended his hand to me, which I shook.

  ‘And this is Mr … Epstein, was it?’

  ‘It is,’ Jerry said. He ignored the man’s hand and Denby finally dropped it.

  The fact that Emily was still in the room told me that we all knew why we were there, but he played confused, anyway.

  ‘I understand you represent the Sands? What can I do for Jack Entratter?’

  ‘Come on, Denby,’ I said. ‘You know I’m not here for the Sands or Mr Entratter. This is about Howard Hughes. No, this is really about the two goons somebody – I’m guessing you – sent to my house this morning to work me over, probably to convince me to take the job Mr Hughes had offered me.’

  ‘Howard Hughes,’ Denby said, getting back behind his desk. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

  Emily moved around to stand next to her boss, her hands behind her back, her eyes worried.

  ‘I tell you what,’ I said. ‘Why don’t I have Jerry, here, explain it to you?’

  Denby looked at Jerry and I’ll give him this, he was pretty cool. Emily started to hyperventilate, though.

  ‘I can have security in here in two minutes,’ he said.

  ‘Jerry only needs one to break an arm or a leg,’ I said. ‘He’s really good at it.’

  Denby looked at Jerry, who smiled at him.

  ‘Maybe we’ve managed to jog your memory a bit?’ I said.

  ‘Perhaps …’

  I looked at Emily, who looked away. So I wasn’t as irresistible as I thought. I figured we’d met in the club by coincidence, and she had recognized my name because she’d heard it from Denby, who had heard it from his client. She decided to try to advance her career by taking an active part in convincing me to work for Hughes – a very active part. Still, the information she’d given me about Helen/Tina had been good, so the time hadn’t been a total loss. I just didn’t like the coincidence of Helen’s murder and Hughes’ business suddenly intersecting. It smacked of bad mystery fiction.

  ‘All right,’ Denby said. ‘Emily, you can go.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  He looked at me. ‘Is that all right with you?’

  She gave us a wide berth as she walked to the door and left.

  ‘Will you have a seat?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I want Jerry on his feet, in case he has to get to you before Emily sends security in here. Believe me, he’s faster than he looks.’

  He studied us for a moment, then picked up the phone, pressed one button, and said to Emily, ‘Don’t call security. It’s fine.’

  He hung up and glared up at us.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I don’t want any more muscle boys sent after me,’ I said. ‘I don’t want any more attempts to try to convince me to work for Mr Hughes.’

  ‘Mr Hughes doesn’t know anything about this.’

  ‘I don’t care if you got your orders from Hughes or Maheu,’ I said. ‘I want it to stop. Tell both of them they can get a lot of bad press out of this, and on top of that Vegas will hear that Hughes is coming. Believe me, they’ll close ranks in town.’ I paused, then added, ‘That will cause you to lose a lot of business.’

  Denby hesitated, then said, ‘I will deliver your message.’

  ‘Add this to it,’ I said, with a sudden thought. ‘Tell Hughes it’s not time for him in Vegas. We don’t want him here. Tell him to try again in a few years.’

  ‘I will tell him,’ Denby said, obviously not happy.

  ‘And if he wants to see me again,’ I said, with finality, ‘tell him to call for an appointment.’

  SEVENTY-TWO

  On the way out we ignored Emily, walking right past her desk without giving her a look.

  Outside, in the car, Jerry said, ‘Do you think that did it? Hughes gonna leave you alone now?’

  ‘I hope so,’ I said, ‘because I meant what I said. I can rally Vegas against him.’

  ‘I know you can, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘I keep sayin’ you’re the man.’ He started the car. ‘Where to?’

  ‘Back to where it all started,’ I said. ‘I think I gave Martin enough so that he and Hargrove can clean up the club.’

  ‘The drugs, you mean?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘without meaning to, I think we gave up Frankie D. and Joey. His mom’s gonna be real disappointed, after all.’

  ‘We told him we wouldn’t tell her.’

  ‘We won’t,’ I said. ‘The cops will.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘Like I said,’ I told him. ‘Let’s go back to where it all started.’

  ‘The Sands?’

  I nodded.

  ‘It started there,’ I said, ‘and I think maybe it’ll end there.’

  The Sands.

  The answer had to be there.

  Helen’s killer had to be someone who knew her, someone who could move about in the hotel and without being questioned. That meant an employee, or a past – but recent – employee.

  ‘We should have been thinking this way from the beginning,’ I said to Danny on the lobby phone. Jerry was standing nearby, listening to my end of the conversation.

  ‘Eddie, remember,’ Danny said, ‘I was able to move around freely.’

  ‘Yeah, but you had permission.’

  ‘So you need to add someone who had permission to your list,’ he said. ‘Employees, recent employees, and people with permission.’

  ‘Like workmen,’ I said, ‘delivery men, like that.’

  ‘I’m on my way,’ Danny said. ‘You’re gonna need another set of hands.’

  ‘See you soon,’ I said, and hung up.

  ‘Is he comin’?’

  ‘He is.�
��

  ‘Where do we start?’

  ‘Fourth floor.’

  Entratter was not in his office when we got there, so Jerry and I stayed in the outer office, where Helen used to work. I sat behind her desk and absently started opening and closing drawers while giving the whole case some thought.

  ‘I don’t know if Danny’s gonna agree with me or not,’ I said, ‘but we should have just concentrated our efforts here, at the Sands.’

  ‘What about all that stuff about the club?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘It showed us a different side of Helen, for sure,’ I said, ‘but Frankie D. and Joey Rigatoni are lightweights. Not killers.’ I looked up at him. ‘Or don’t you agree?’

  ‘I do agree,’ he said. ‘Those guys would get chewed up and spat out in Brooklyn.’

  ‘Frankie could have made a call to Cleveland for some real muscle, but then he would’ve had to admit to selling drugs in the club.’

  ‘Cleveland could be in favor of that, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘Some of the bosses are considerin’ it.’

  ‘Well, I guess we could ask Jack to check up on that,’ I said.

  ‘Check on what?’ Entratter asked, walking in. ‘Come on inside.’

  He entered his office without breaking stride. Walking behind him I noticed his shoulders slumping, which was unusual for him. He was a big man with wide shoulders, and always a commanding presence in his good suits. Today he seemed tired.

  He dropped into his chair and stared at us. I told him about the meeting with Martin, about the drug thing being wrapped up, and about doubting that it had anything to do with Helen’s death. He took special satisfaction in hearing that the cops didn’t really think Helen had killed herself.

  ‘Unless, like Jerry suggests,’ I finished, ‘Cleveland is getting into the drug business and sent somebody to take Helen out.’

  ‘If they did,’ he said, ‘I doubt they would’ve done it this way. They would have put a bullet in her and planted her in the desert, but I’ll check into it.’

  ‘So my thought is that the answer is here, right here, in the Sands,’ I said, ‘and then there’s the belt.’

  ‘What belt?’

  I told him what Detective Martin had told me about the belt not being hers.

  ‘So all you have to do is find out who owned the belt,’ he said, when I was finished.

  ‘Well, the cops have it,’ I said. ‘It was cloth, so they won’t find fingerprints.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Danny’s coming over,’ I said. ‘We’re gonna hash this out.’

  ‘Don’t forget about Robinson,’ he warned.

  ‘I won’t. I’ll call him and check in. And Dean wants to have dinner with me.’

  ‘Don’t stand him up,’ Entratter said. ‘I know you got a lot on your plate, Eddie, but I also know you can handle it.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Jack,’ I said. ‘I’ve got it all under control.’

  I left his office wishing I felt as confident as I sounded.

  SEVENTY-THREE

  I met Dean in the lobby for dinner. The only place Frank and Dean ate off the strip was the Bootlegger, so we went there. Over excellent lasagna and ravioli we caught up with each other’s lives.

  ‘You’re Nobody Til Somebody Loves You’ had been a huge hit for him during the summer, reaching number one. Dean had just made another movie with John Wayne, a western called The Sons of Katy Elder. Rio Bravo had been a big hit for them in 1959. He was planning to make some movies based on the Matt Helm spy novels of Donald Hamilton. And then next year, he was going to have his own variety TV series. He didn’t know it at the time, but it would run successfully for nine years and make him an even bigger star than he already was.

  While Frank was ‘The Chairman of the Board’, Dean was known as ‘The King of Cool’. All of those endeavors would make him even cooler.

  I told him stories of murder, sex, Edward G. Robinson and Howard Hughes.

  ‘You have such an exciting life, Eddie,’ he said. ‘And a full one. Sometimes I think I’d trade with you.’

  ‘You’re kiddin’.’

  ‘I’m not,’ he said. ‘Being me is hectic, and not always exciting or full.’

  ‘You have a great family and a fabulous career,’ I said. ‘Jesus, you’re Dean Martin.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ He picked up his soft drink. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

  I picked up my beer and drank with him.

  ‘Tell me more about the murder.’

  I did. I laid it all out for him. Maybe he’d have some insight, or a suggestion. Maybe I just needed to hear it all out loud …

  Earlier Danny had come by the Sands and we had gone over the case again. We talked about the women who worked there and came up with a list of nine suspects. Since I had agreed to have dinner with Dean, Danny said he’d once again talk to them, and look into their lives.

  I wanted Jerry to go with him, but he insisted on trailing Dean and me to the Bootlegger. I told him to eat with us, that Dino wouldn’t mind, but he said no. He’d be outside, making sure we weren’t disturbed. I told him I’d take him for something to eat after.

  ‘I know you will, Mr G.’

  So I listened to myself talk to Dean and in the end he asked, ‘Would a woman alone have been able to lift her up and hang her from a pipe?’

  Good point. That was why the cops thought there might be two of them.

  But think about it, I told myself. What kind of a woman would it take to be able to do that alone?

  ‘It could have been a strong, pissed off woman,’ I said. ‘Or a desperate one.’

  ‘Desperate people can do amazing things, sometimes,’ Dean said. ‘Feats of strength they wouldn’t ordinarily be able to accomplish.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘Well,’ Dean said, ‘I had something I wanted to talk to you about, but it seems like your time is well accounted for.’

  ‘I’m never too busy for you, Dino,’ I said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s not about me, really,’ he said. ‘It’s Jerry.’

  ‘Jerry … Lewis?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I thought you two weren’t speaking?’

  ‘Well, not every day.’

  The animosity of their split had been played up in the press, but I knew that the two had briefly reunited on stage at the Sands in 1960, and later that year when Jerry was too exhausted from his schedule while filming The Bellboy to perform his act, Dean stood in for him.

  ‘So what’s up?’

  ‘Jerry’s got a problem he needs help with, and I think you’re the guy,’ he said. ‘But finish up what you’re working on – get things worked out with Eddie Robinson and Hughes – and then we can talk again. OK?’

  ‘Sure, Dean,’ I said. ‘Whenever you say.’

  After dinner we took the limo back to the Sands. Dean was quiet, and I realized I still had to call Eddie Robinson and set up a poker game for him.

  I knew Big Jerry was on our tail – probably with the Caddy – but I didn’t spot him. Jerry was good at that.

  In the lobby Dean gave me a hug and said we’d see each other again before he finished his run at the Sahara and left Vegas. That suited me just fine.

  It wasn’t that late – Dean liked to turn in early when he could – so I called Eddie Robinson’s room and was invited to come up.

  When I knocked, the door was opened by Madge, who grinned crookedly at me and said, ‘Hiya, Eddie.’

  ‘Madge.’

  ‘Come on in.’

  Robinson was sitting at the bar on a stool, and Madge moved around behind it. There were cards on the bar, so I knew she was dealing from there.

  ‘Hey, Eddie G.!’ Robinson said, enthusiastically. ‘I think I’ve got it!’

  ‘It?’ I asked, coming up alongside him.

  ‘Actually, I should say I’ve got “him”. Lancey Howard. Thanks to Madge I’ve got the character. Now all I need to do is try him out in a real game.’

  I looked at Mad
ge and she shrugged. She was wearing her work clothes – black trousers, a white shirt and tie.

  ‘He’s as ready as he’ll ever be.’

  ‘For a high-stakes game?’

  ‘I have the money,’ Eddie said, ‘but I think I can get the studio to back me so I don’t have to use my own. It’s all part of my research.’

  ‘Well, always a good idea if you can get somebody else to back your play.’

  ‘Can you set it up?’ Robinson asked, excitedly. ‘Maybe tonight?’

  ‘That’s cutting it a bit close,’ I said. ‘I think tomorrow night would work better.’

  ‘All right,’ Robinson said. ‘I’ll just keep on working with Madge tonight – that is, if you can stay?’ He directed his question to her.

  ‘As long as I’m still off the clock,’ she answered, looking at me.

  ‘You are.’

  She smiled at the charming actor and said, ‘Then I can stay.’

  ‘Excellent!’

  ‘I gotta go, Eddie,’ I said, ‘but I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting for your call, Eddie G.’

  ‘I’ll see you out.’

  Madge walked me to the door, and when I stepped into the hall I found out why.

  ‘Eddie, Mr Robinson insists on payin’ me somethin’ for these lessons,’ she said. ‘I know I’m still on salary, but … is it OK?’

  ‘That’s fine, Madge,’ I said. ‘No problem with you making a little extra cash.’

  ‘Thanks, Eddie,’ she said, ‘and thanks for thinkin’ of me. He’s really a helluva nice guy.’

  ‘Yeah, he is,’ I said.

  She smiled, backed up and closed the door. With my commitment to Eddie Robinson fulfilled, and my dinner with Dean finished, I could relax and turn my mind back to murder.

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  I got off the elevator on the fourth floor. The office staff had long since gone home, and it was dark and quiet. I went into Jack’s outer office and turned on the lights, sat behind Helen’s desk. I thought about what Detective Martin had told me about the belt that had been used to hang her. It was too big to have been hers, so it had to have belonged to the killer. That made the killer a woman. But a woman alone? Certainly a large enough woman could have lifted the slight Helen up to hang her. And Helen was light enough for that belt not to have snapped.