The Collectibles

by James J. Kaufman

  Tommy told Joe, “The guys at The Corner, that was the name, Sammy the owner, they was my family. That’s where my real education began. Everyone bet the games. There was rules, you know? You had to pay the guys or there were real problems. Just the way it was. Still is.”

  Tommy said he felt close to his older brother, until he became a priest. When Joe asked why that made a difference, Tommy dropped his head, explaining that his brother had “gotten too chummy with the altar boys,” which Tommy couldn’t “accommodate.” Tommy told Joe he was All State in wrestling, how that helped him get the girls, too, why he hated Catholic school, and how, in addition to the tables, he loved betting on the ponies and basketball.

  As Joe and Tommy talked into the night, Joe thought about how similar in some ways his and Tommy’s early lives were, and what a difference education can make. His thoughts, as always, eventually turned to Uncle Howard and Aunt Lettie and how simple life had been with them, how lucky he was. Tommy was strong, rough but real, and he made Joe laugh. Joe knew he would stay in touch.

  “Hi, Tommy. It’s one in the morning.”

  “What are you doin’ up at one in the morning?” Tommy asked.

  “I can think of two reasons, Tommy. One, you called me and woke me up. And two, I have not been sleeping much anyway lately. What’s on your mind?”

  “I have a serious problem, which is sort of a dilemma, and I’ve been thinking about it hard, and I figured out there’s a way out, but I need you to do something for me.”

  “Does this problem involve money?” Joe asked.

  “It involves money, but not like what you’re thinking. This ain’t a gambling thing, and it ain’t like I owe somebody, but it’s complicated, and I need you to talk to a certain man and explain to him how a certain set of situations happened to happen,” Tommy explained.

  “Why does this have to be handled right now, Tommy? How about in the morning?”

  “I’m trying to do what you and I talked about, Joe. You know, develop relationships with meaning and better myself. I got it figured out how I can become Frankie’s go-through guy and if I become that, it will be like a job. And because Frankie’s so classy, it would be like a profession. And then I could lay off the gambling.”

  “Who’s Frankie?” Joe asked.

  “You don’t want to know. Period,” Tommy said. “I’m getting you up now because it’ll take you time to get here.”

  “Here?”

  “I’m in Vegas, and I got this situation, which I’ll explain to you in personable fashion, but I need you to get on a plane as early as you can in the morning so that you get here in the morning so that I will have time to talk to you before you do what I need you to do, which will only take you ten minutes. Time is of the importance.”

  “Tommy, I’m working on a case right now, and I’ve just scheduled a meeting for Monday morning that I must attend. If I can get a flight out in the morning, no matter what’s going on with you, do you understand and accept that I will be leaving the next day to come back here so that I can be ready for my meeting?”

  “You got it, Joe. Call me and tell me what flight you’re coming in on and I’ll be at the airport to meet you. Thanks, Joe. It means a lot.”

  Joe called the airlines and was able to get a 7:30 a.m. flight out of Charlotte to Las Vegas, although he had to buy a first-class ticket. He quickly packed, and dropped Buck off at Alice’s house with a brief explanation that Tommy Greco had a “time is of the essence” problem that involved God knows what and that he needed to go to Vegas but would be back in plenty of time for Monday morning’s meeting at Bank North America.

  Joe enjoyed the flight; it gave him time to think through his presentation to the bank. Five-and-a-half hours later, Joe saw Tommy as soon as he left the security area.

  Tommy stood as tall as a five-foot-four mesomorph with no neck could, and with a big grin grabbed Joe, pushed him back and pulled him forward and hugged him. Joe knew all of this was coming and went through the ritual. It was really good to see Tommy.

  “Everything time-wise looks real good, Joe. Frankie will still be at the blackjack tables this morning if we hurry, and I got a driver who understands. He’ll get us there. Oh, Frankie’s playing at Caesar’s,” Tommy said, as they rushed to the tram and then through the halls of the airport, downstairs and to the black limo and waiting driver. When they climbed in, Tommy immediately poured himself a Johnny Walker black label on the rocks, and offered another for Joe.

  “Okay, Tommy. Let’s have it.”

  “Here’s what went down. I’m in town for the Gibraldi-Houser fight. I check in at the Grand, leave my bag in the room, and then go down and put my wallet and everything but a few hundred in a safe-deposit box. I wander over to the Palace – Caesar’s – to shoot some craps. I win a little and go to the cage to cash in. I see this guy who I recognize as Frankie Vittarone from Chicago. He walks up to the counter, carrying seven or eight racks of black and gray chips – up to his chin – with another guy, Jimmy, also carrying a stack of racks. There are four guys behind them. Frankie’s wearing a gray silk suit with a gray silk tie on a gray silk shirt.”

  At this point, Tommy leaned over, grabbed the bottle of Scotch, and refilled his glass. Joe waved his hand.

  “In his pocket, he’s got a gray silk handkerchief. I mean, this guy’s got the look, you know. He just stands there next to me, waiting for the woman behind the counter to take the racks. I hold onto my ten chips and say nothing. He looks at me and says, ‘How ya doin’?’ I tell him, ‘Fine, thank you.’ He says, ‘What’s your name?’ I tell him, ‘Tommy Greco, thank you.’ He says, ‘That’s a funny name, Tommy Greco Thank You.’ I tell him, ‘Yeah, it is, thank you.’

  “I cash in my chips, and Frankie and Jimmy hand in their racks of chips. The woman behind the counter asks them if they would prefer checks or cash. They say cash. She excuses herself for a minute, goes into the cage, and then comes back with another woman, each carrying stacks of neatly wrapped hundred-dollar bills. She turns to Frankie and asks him if he would like the cash now. He says yes, ’cause it’s going in the safe-deposit boxes behind her. She counts out the stacks – which are five-thousand dollars each – until Frankie agrees that’s the amount of his chips. The stacks are piled high on the counter, and there are now five or six security guys behind Frankie, Jimmy and me. She counts out the stacks for Jimmy as well and he nods.

  “Then the woman sets down a large safe-deposit box in front of Frankie, and the other woman sets down the same size box in front of Jimmy, who’s down at the other end. These are big boxes. Frankie opens his box right next to me and it’s practically filled with stacks of c-notes, the hundred-dollar bills on their edge to make more room. He stuffs in as many stacks of the fresh money as the box will hold. He’s actually forcing down the top. He’s still probably got twenty to thirty grand left. He yells over to Jimmy – people all around – ‘Hey Jimmy! You got room for more?’ Jimmy shouts back, ‘Yeah.’ Frankie starts throwing the packages one by one over the heads of the security guards to Jimmy, who catches them and jams them in his box. I mean, here’s these guys all dressed up watching the c-notes go over their head. You had to be there to see that,” Tommy said through a fit of infectious laughter.

  “So I’m watching all of this, and Frankie knows I’m watching, so Frankie and Jimmy decide they’re going to eat. They ask me to join them. He’s tellin’, not askin’. I nod.

  “I go back up to the Grand, spend an hour or so by the pool, back to my room for a shower and pick up my good luck brown leather sport jacket and go back down to shoot some more. Three markers later and being hungry, I go over to Caesar’s and check in with the guy in front at the restaurant on the first floor. He tells me Mr. V is expecting me and points to the open restaurant across the hall. I go over there and see a section set up for Chinese food, only it’s all blocked off with guards on each end. One long table, fil
led with a bunch of Asians and some heavy guys, some good-looking women, and one empty seat. There’s Frankie at the end. He shouts, ‘Hey, Thank You, over here. We’re expecting you.’

  “I take the seat. Everyone introduces themselves – first name only – the rest is small talk. Frankie shouts down from the end of the table, ‘This is Tommy.’ He tosses me a room key, tells me – and everyone else at the table – that’s the key to my room in his suite, I’m to get whatever I want, and he tells me ‘Just sign Frankie V to everything.’ Everybody nods. I nod. Then the dinner’s over. I tell Frankie, ‘Thank you.’ Frankie, Jimmy, and his group go over to the blackjack tables. Guards section the whole area off. They start playing heavy. I go back to the Grand.

  “The next morning, I’m up early and I’m thinking I don’t want to offend Frankie by not staying in his suite. So I check out of the Grand and go over to Caesar’s and let myself in the bedroom on my side of the suite. Frankie is just getting up, and he’s got some female company. I stay on my side and then a rap on the door, and it’s Frankie, telling me it’s time for steak and eggs. The three of us have breakfast, I say nothin’. Frankie leaves the waiter a $500 tip, in five black-and-purple chips, tosses two $500 gray chips to his girlfriend, suggesting she go shopping while he, his friend, Jimmy, and I go upstairs and take in some steam.

  “We’re upstairs at the health club, and, when we get to the counter, Frankie introduces me to his huge friend, Jimmy. Then Frankie takes out a safe-deposit box, and as he and Jimmy put all their personals into it – cash, rings, watches, keys, and a couple of crosses with diamonds in them – he looks over at me and says, ‘One box is enough for all of us, right?’ I’m not sure, but he looked at me, you know, when he said it, so I go along and put my diamond ring, my safe-deposit box key, and $500, which is all I have, in the box. Frankie takes the key to the box.

  “Frankie goes first on the table for a massage. Jimmy and I are taking steam. First Jimmy clues me in that Frankie had heard some things about me and thought I might have potentiality. That’s why he had receptivity about me. Then, Jimmy explains that Frankie’s wife is coming in that night, that he gets the girlfriend. I nod but say nothin’. Then he takes a massage, and Frankie walks me out on the terrace in the sun looking down over the strip. He looks me in the eye and tells me how happy he is that I’m with him and wants to make sure I’m comfortable. I tell him I’m comfortable, thank you. He tells me he’s up $850 K and that his group from the Pacific Rim is doing well. He tells me it really means a lot to him that he’s got me to talk to, to spend quality time like this with. I tell him thank you. Then it’s my time to get a massage.

  “I come off the table, and everybody’s gone. I get dressed, and it dawns on me, I would like to have a key to the health club safe-deposit box. I ask the guy working there if he knows where Mr. V went. He says, ‘No, but he did leave this key for you.’ I go to the box behind the counter at the health club, and there’s my ring, $500, and the safe-deposit box key. I’m feeling better.”

  At this point, the limo had arrived at Caesar’s. Tommy told the driver to wait and kept talking.

  “I go to the Grand, to the safe-deposit box section, to get my wallet and more money, and close my box. I give them my key. I wait. They come back. ‘Wrong key.’ I tell them there must be a mistake. They ask for identification. I don’t have any – it’s in my box. I ask them to open the box. They ask for my room key. I tell them I don’t have it, I’ve checked out. They tell me, ‘Sorry, no way to get into the box without identification and without a key.’ I’m fucked.

  “I figured I would hang with Frankie, get to know him, let him see what I got, and become his go-through man. Now, he’s got a key in his pocket, and it ain’t going to open his box, and he’s going to figure that out as soon as he goes to the box this morning, and then he’s going to think of me and then . . . I’m seriously over-exposed. Or that’s already happened and he thinks I’m running, and his guys are looking for me right now. Either way, this is not a good situation, Joe. And you can see that I wasn’t screwing around when I said time is of the importance.” Tommy took another drink.

  “Not that it matters, Tommy, but it’s ‘time is of the essence.’ In any event, what do you want me to do?”

  “All you have to do,” Tommy said, leaning over and looking Joe straight in the eyes, the veins bulging on the sides of his temples, “is go in there with me, we walk up to the blackjack tables, I whisper to the guard who stops me that you have to talk to Frankie. You’re standing right next to me. Frankie’s going to look at me, you know what I mean – really look at me. Then he’s going to really look at you. Then, I hope he will motion you in. You go in, go up to him, and tell him that I’ve got his key and he’s got my key, that they got mixed up in the box. And then swap keys. That’s it,” Tommy said, clapping his hands and then holding them both up in front of his face. “That’s it, Joe.” He clapped his hands again.

  “And have you given any thought as to why Frankie V. is interested in talking with me in the first place, or why he should accept what I’m telling him about the mix-up of the keys rather than you telling him? It seems to me this would be a good opportunity for you to earn his trust.”

  “Joe, this is one of those times in life when you got one shot, that you’re either believed or not. You got what I don’t – believability stamped on your forehead. I need you to talk to him. Swap the keys. We’re done.” Another clap of hands.

  Joe could see there was no convincing Tommy to step up to this plate. Knowing he should have his head examined, he simply told Tommy, “Okay, stay with me.” And with that, they both climbed out of the limo.

  It was not hard to find Frankie in Caesar’s. Three blackjack tables stood in a semicircle, with two pit bosses behind each table and five armed guards at the front of each, forming a tight ring, keeping the crowds away.

  Joe walked straight up to the table at which Tommy had identified Frankie as the player on the end, standing, not sitting. He motioned to the pit boss behind that table that he would like to talk with Frankie. The security guards watched Joe and Tommy stand there, but nothing was said. The man behind the table adjusted his French cuffs and his tie, straightened his black suit jacket, and walked slowly over to Frankie and waited. After what seemed like a long time but was actually only a minute or two, the action on that hand was completed and Frankie looked up and nodded.

  The man approached Frankie and whispered in his ear. Frankie looked over at Tommy, and at Joe. Then everything stopped. The next hand was not dealt. The other men at the table were watching Frankie for a signal as to what he wanted to do. Frankie pulled up the stool behind him and sat down. He put his arms up on the table, folded his hands, and looked down at the table. After three long minutes, he looked up again and motioned to the man at his side to come closer. He whispered in his ear.

  The man approached Joe and Tommy and said, “Mr. V would like to talk to you gentlemen.” Joe said, “Yes, sir,” and started to walk towards Frankie. Realizing that Tommy had not moved, he stepped back, grabbed Tommy by the arm, and brought him along.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?” Frankie said, looking Joe over from head to foot.

  “My name is Joe Hart,” Joe said. “I’ve known Tommy Greco for a number of years. I live in South Carolina. He called me there last night at one in the morning and asked me to fly to Las Vegas to meet with you this morning to explain to you that you inadvertently picked up his safe-deposit box key from the health club you guys went to, leaving your key with him. He discovered that last night when he went over to the Grand to get his wallet out of his box. But because he had the wrong key and no ID, he could not get into his box. He needs his key, which you have. And he would like to give you your key.”

  At this point, Frankie had nodded yes over ten times. Frankie reached in his pocket and pulled out a safe-deposit box key. “You’re tellin’ me this key is Tommy Greco with a funny
name’s key?”

  “Yes, sir, exactly,” Joe replied.

  “And Tommy Greco with a funny name’s got my key?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Frankie stared at Tommy and Tommy stared back. Three blackjack tables watched all of this, and no one said a word. All action remained at a standstill.

  “Tommy, how did you like the massage?” Frankie asked.

  “It was okay, Mr. V, you know, it was okay. Thank you.”

  “There he goes,” Frankie said. “Tommy Greco Thank You. I like you, Tommy. I like having you around. I think your pal Joe was a good guy to get up in the middle of the night and fly all the way out here to tell me about the keys. I like that. It shows a lot of respect. I like the way he calls me sir, too. It’s good. So let’s see the key, Tommy.”

  At that point, Tommy handed the key over to Frankie and Frankie gave his key to Joe. Frankie then told his group at the tables that he thought it was time for a break, and they all agreed. The group broke up and Frankie picked up the few chips left in front of him on the table.

  “I’m gonna cash these in. You guys feel like walking with me over to the cashier?”

  “Yes, sir,” Joe said, and Tommy nodded again. They all walked over to the cashier and stood in line. Frankie soon exchanged his chips for cash. Then he put down the safe-deposit box key that Tommy had just given him and asked for his box, signing his name on the card. A moment later, the large box was placed in front of him. The lid on the box popped open and it was crammed full of hundred-dollar stacks. Frankie smiled.