The Starlight Club 4: Marilyn: Scarface, Goodfellas, Mob Guys & Hitmen (Starlight Club Mystery Mob)

by Joe Corso

  “If she is in this building, we couldn’t find her anywhere, sir. She’s nowhere to be found.”

  Reynolds turned to walk away. But Trenchie grabbed his arm, surprising him. “You, whatever your name is. Don’t come back here. This is a private club and we don’t like strangers coming around early in the morning, interrupting our meetings and harassing us.” Trenchie pulled Reynolds closer to him. Reynolds’s feet were almost off of the floor. He pulled him so close that their noses were almost touching … so close that Reynolds couldn’t move his eyes away from Trenchie’s laser beam-like glare. Trenchie spoke in a monotone to Reynolds and he exaggerated his words by saying them slowly so there would be no mistaking the threat behind them. “Don’t – come -- back, here. Do you understand what I just said? Don’t fuckin -- come -- back, because if you do, you’re gonna make me angry and I won’t be as nice to you as I am now. Now get out of here before I throw you out.”

  When Reynolds and his men left the club, the entrance to the hidden room opened and Red walked out, laughing. “Trenchie, I didn’t hear you. Did you tell him not to come back?” All of the guys burst out laughing and they laughed along with Red when he said that. “Trenchie.” Red continued smiling while holding back a belly laugh. “You have to learn to express yourself better. Don’t be so withdrawn. You have to learn not to hold things in like you do, just say what you mean.” The tension was over and the spell was broken. The guys were laughing so hard their faces hurt and even Trenchie broke into what was a smile to him, which made the men laugh even harder because Trenchie hardly ever laughed. He smirked a little, and he even smiled occasionally if you could tell the difference. But he hardly ever laughed. Red slapped Trenchie on the back and put his arm around his shoulder. “You did good, Trenchie. If they decide to visit us again, it’ll give them something to think about. Now come with me for a minute. I want you to meet someone.” Red turned and, with Trenchie following close behind him, they stepped into the safe room. As soon as they entered the room, Red hit the switch closing the entrance, sealing the room and hiding it from prying eyes. “Marilyn, I want you to meet a friend of mine. Trenchie, meet Marilyn Monroe. We’re kind of looking after her for a while until we can sort things out. Marilyn, Trenchie here will be your personal bodyguard until this ordeal is over. From now on, where you go, he goes.” She looked at the big man standing before her, and while she didn’t say anything, she had to admit that when she first saw him he scared the hell out of her. He had a hard face and just by looking at it, you can tell he experienced a lot of pain in his life. But once she looked past the pain, she also saw a man who would be a good friend to someone he liked. She put out her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Trenchie.”

  “Just Trenchie, ma’am.”

  “Okay, then. It’s very nice to meet you, Trenchie.”

  Trenchie’s face broke into that semi-grunt of a smile again. “Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

  “I heard what you said to Mr. Reynolds. I think you scared him.”

  “I have a habit of scaring people, ma’am.”

  “Marilyn,” she corrected.

  “What?”

  “Call me Marilyn and not ‘ma’am,’ please.”

  Trenchie looked quizzically at her. “Marilyn, then.”

  Red turned to Marilyn and added, “Marilyn, if you need anything, use the phone over there on the wall and call me, but if you do call, ask for Mr. Blue. I don’t want anyone to know that Red Fortunato is still alive. Remember, it’s Mr. Blue when you use the phone to speak to me, understand?” He pointed to the new phone he had installed on the wall in the safe room beside the door. “And I’ll make sure you get whatever it is you need. But, whatever you do, don’t leave this room for any reason. Now I have to ask you a few questions.”

  Marilyn nodded. “Go ahead. Ask me anything you want.”

  Red smiled. “Good,” he said. Then he became serious. “You knew the man that came here today, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, he’s the Assistant Deputy Secretary of State.”

  “Phew! With a title like that, isn’t he acting little below his pay grade? What the hell is a guy that high up on the totem pole doing acting like a cop on a drug bust? I wonder what he’s up to, and what he’d gain by having you murdered. Just so I understand this better, tell me what you know about him.”

  “I met him a few times at parties Jack gave at the White House. I don’t know much about him, but I was told by one of Bobby’s staffers that he’s a very dangerous man.”

  “Do you think he could be the one behind the murder of your bodyguard and your attempted murder?”

  “Yes. I do. Who else could it be?” Red listened with interest, dissecting and processing every word she said. As she told her story, many possible courses of action flicked in his mind and he processed them all quickly. It was like watching the story unfold in a movie theater. He clearly visualized the result of each action in his mind and he discarded the scenarios that didn’t work, compartmentalizing the ones that did. His ability to plan his moves carefully after visualizing the outcome was a factor in successfully running one of the largest crime families in the country.

  “One more thing before we leave. Do you know where Reynolds works?”

  She said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” She tore a paper from a pad on the desk and wrote down his address, which she then handed to him.

  “Thanks, Marilyn. I could have Shooter or Joey Bones go with you to your home, but I’m sure Reynolds will have someone watching your place and once you were back home, he’d send another team to get you. I’d like to avoid that confrontation for the time being.” Red glanced at the gold Rolex he wore on his left wrist. “I’ll have to finish our talk later. Right now, I have to talk with my men. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Once they left the safe room, the two men went upstairs and sat at a table. Red poured Trenchie a scotch on the rocks and poured himself a cup of Italian coffee from the pot on the little stove along with a shot of Sambuca in the coffee, leaving a little of the sweet liquor in the shot glass in which to dip his cigar. Then he walked over to the humidor on his desk and took out two Cuban cigars. He cut the tips off and the two of them lit up while they sat and sipped their drinks and began to discuss strategy. They discussed the various options they had, and even the ones they didn’t have. Trenchie, ever practical, asked, “Red, what’s in this for us? I mean … come on. This fuckin woman is like a lit fuse on a keg of dynamite. Either we have to get her back home or we have to prepare for war. Which is it going to be?”

  Red nestled his chin in the palm of his hand, holding his cigar close to his mouth. He said nothing for a few moments. He just stared at the front door. He never wanted to do this. He never wanted to paint himself into a corner like he did this time. It was unintentional, of course, but it didn’t change the fact that he was about to commit his men to a war they shouldn’t have. One thing was for sure, he had to give his next move careful thought. Thinking out loud, he said more to himself than to Trenchie. “Let’s suppose we get pre-emptive and strike first. Would that do us any good, and if it did, how, when, and who would we go after?”

  Trenchie thought a moment, and then said, “Why don’t we do what we always do? We send two men to tag team Reynolds. By doing that, we’ll find out who he meets and where he goes. Then, if we have no better option, we can always grab him, kill him, and get him off our backs. Once he’s out of the way, we can go back to making money again.”

  “You might have something there, Trenchie. I believe that’s what we’ll do. I’ll send Shooter and Joey Bones to the address Marilyn gave me and have them follow Reynolds and make a note of where he goes and who he sees. Maybe it might get us somewhere and if it doesn’t, we didn’t lose anything by trying.”

  Red handed Shooter and Joey Bones the slip of paper with Reynolds’ address on it. Red was glad they had the address because if he didn’t, he’d have to track him down by trial and error. Marilyn had saved them a lot o
f time.

  At nine a.m., Shooter spotted Reynolds and four of his men walking into his office building. Shooter thought Reynolds might have a file with a picture of him in it. He didn’t want to take a chance on being recognized, so instead Joey Bones walked through the doors of the building and stopped short of passing through security. He watched as Reynolds got into an elevator. He couldn’t be sure what floor the elevator stopped at because he was quite a distance from the floor indicator, but he swore when they got off of the elevator, the arrow pointed to the seventh floor. Joey Bones stood there, thinking of what to do. Then he thought, What the hell? He tried to walk past the security guards, but the two uniformed cops stationed there quickly stopped him. When they asked him for his identification, Joey explained that he spotted his friend Reynolds just pass through security and he wanted to catch up to him, but he had left his identification at home. The two uniforms told him they needed to see his I.D. before they’d let him into the building. They advised him to go home and get it, and then come back and show it to them, then they’d let him in. Joey feigned disappointment, thanked them, and then he left. He got what he wanted, which was the floor Reynolds worked on. When Joey stepped out of the Federal Building, he looked across the street and smiled. The building across the street was just as high as this one. A plan was forming in his mind and he decided he’d run it past Red and the boys. Maybe between them, they could make it work.

  .

  CHAPTER 11

  It was nine in the morning in the East and with the time difference in Los Angeles, it was much too early for Red to telephone Larry Bernstein at Columbia Pictures. He needed to speak to him. Marilyn had created a bit of a problem for him; while he babysat her, he couldn’t oversee his production company. Because of Marilyn, he knew that problems could arise out of the blue without warning and he needed to do something about it. He knew he had to hire someone to run the day-to-day business of the production company on a steady basis and he didn’t want to wait hours to call Bernstein. Tired of waiting, he decided to call Moose. It was six a.m. in California, but this was important and couldn’t wait, so he dialed Moose’s number.

  Moose picked up on the second ring. “This better be good,” he growled into the phone.

  “Wake up you lazy bastard. It’s always good when I call,” Red said.

  Moose recognized Red’s voice and immediately sat up in bed. He was wide awake now. Thinking the worst, he asked in a concerned voice. “What’s up, boss? Is everything all right? Are you okay?”

  Red stifled a laugh. “Relax, I’m fine, Moose. I have a little problem that I have to take care of. It’s keeping me away from the studio.”

  Moose interrupted, “Red, if you need me, I’ll get right on a plane and come back home.”

  “No, nothing like that, Moose. I need you right where you are. Because I can’t be there, you have to be my eyes and ears at the studio. I know that you’re working with Swifty, but for the time being, that has to wait. What I’m asking you to do is more important. Now listen carefully … I want you to put an ad in--" Red stopped mid sentence. “Forget about what I just told you. I’ll take care of my problem today and I’ll fly out to California tomorrow. I don’t intend to stay there long. As soon as I finish my business in California, I’ll fly back to Queens. Meanwhile, get a pen and paper and write down what I tell you. Ready?”

  Moose opened the nightstand drawer and took out a pen and pad. “Yeah, go ahead.”

  “Wanted: CEO to run the day to day operations of a major film studio. If you are that man and you have the qualifications, I want to talk to you. Interviews held 9 a.m. Wednesday at Starlight Productions, 9900 Burbank Blvd, Hollywood, CA Suite 301. Resume required. Ask for Mr. Blue. Did you get all that?”

  “Yes, boss. Got it all.”

  “I want you to place ads in all the major trade newspapers like Show Business Weekly, Show Business, Back Stage, and any other paper that you can think of where an out-of–work, qualified Hollywood executive might read the want ads. After you’ve placed the ads, place the same ad in the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. I want this ad to appear in tomorrow’s papers and let it run for a week. I don’t know when the show business papers come out, so let’s hope we get lucky and one or two of them come out in the next few days. Now go back to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Red pressed the two-way talk button on the hidden intercom. “Marilyn, let me know if you’re decent. I have to talk to you.”

  “Come in. I’ve finished dressing.” Red triggered the hidden mechanism that opened the door to the safe room and stepped inside. He hesitated for a moment, waiting for the opening to close silently behind him. Marilyn was standing before him, looking beautiful, dressed in her new clothes. She was amazing because no matter what she did to her hair it looked beautiful. Her hair looked good to begin with, but now it looked perfect. Her makeup was tastefully applied and he had a sudden urge to take her in his arms and kiss her passionately, but he resisted the impulse. He hadn’t felt like this when he was with a woman in many years. In fact, if he discounted his trip to Florida with Jimmy the Hat where he met Iris, he almost forgot what it felt like to hold a woman in his arms. The last woman he was intimate with was Iris, but this was no ordinary woman about whom he was having these thoughts. It was Marilyn Monroe and she was a cut above every other woman in the world. However, he felt that she was a little out of his league, but the thought of him holding her in his arms lingered. What man wouldn’t want to romance the sex goddess of the world; to hold her close and kiss her and, maybe if the moment was right, make love to her. God, how he wanted this woman. He suppressed his desires and controlled his emotions and when he spoke to her again, it was with pure unemotional logic.

  “Marilyn, I have to leave town for a few days, but I’ll return as soon as I finish my business there.”

  She stiffened. “I’d rather not stay here alone, not without you nearby. Can I come with you?” she asked him impulsively.

  “You’ll be all right,” he said, trying to reassure her. “Trenchie will be with you and no one, and I mean no one, will harm you while he’s protecting you.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s you that I feel safe with. I’d still rather go with you. I’ll change my appearance. I’ll buy a black wig and I’ll wear dark glasses; just take me with you. I promise you, the woman you take on the plane will not look like the woman standing before you now.”

  Red thought about what she just said. He would feel better if she was with him and he could relax instead of worrying about her safety here in Queens. But he wasn’t kidding himself. While his concern was for her safety, he couldn’t deny that when she was near him, he felt alive. He reacted to her sexuality. She was the only woman he’d ever met that didn’t have to try to be sexy; she just was sexy. No matter what she did or how she walked, talked, or moved, she was naturally sexy. Sex oozed from her. It fell off her naturally and that’s what drove men crazy. He felt sorry for the beautiful Hollywood stars that tried so hard to be sexy and look desirable. Stars like Carol Baker or Tippi Hedrin who were naturally beautiful, but didn’t exude the natural sex appeal that Marilyn did; they had to work at it, and it showed in their films. Marilyn didn’t have to try. The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea. “Okay, you’re on. You have a deal. I’ll take you with me. I’ll make the arrangements. We’re leaving early tomorrow morning so you have all day today. Trenchie will go with you. Don’t put any make-up on and wear a Yankee cap with dark glasses. Go out and buy whatever you need and do whatever you have to do to alter your appearance. If someone happens to recognize you, smile, be gracious, and leave the rest to Trenchie. Tomorrow, I want to take a woman I don’t recognize on the plane with me.”

  Marilyn was thrilled and, for the first time in years, she felt like a schoolgirl—alive, happy, and full of anticipation. She knew what she needed to buy to alter her appearance, but that meant going out in public. She appealed to Red. “Could one of your men take me
to a boutique where I can purchase a wig?”

  “I told you. Trenchie will be with you whenever you go anywhere. I’ll talk to him so put your mind at ease and let me do the worrying.”

  Red looked at her sideways and nodded. “Wherever you go Trenchie will be with you. Like I said, I don’t want you to go anywhere without him. If you’re with him, you’ll stay alive.”

  “You think a lot of him, don’t you?”

  “You’re damned right I do. He’s the best there is. You don’t realize how lucky you are to have him as your protector. Trust me on this.”

  Marilyn paused a moment, then she said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Well … yesterday when the federal agents showed up here, you stayed out of sight. Can I ask why?”

  “Sure! Since I’m officially dead, I don’t want the authorities to know that I’m still alive and breathing; it would cause problems for me if they found out. Once Bennett clears my name, I can be myself again. I can’t do it until then. I wish that I could. But I’m still a wanted man, you know. The feds are not coming after me because they think I’m dead and you know what Barnum said. ‘Never smarten up a chump.’ And the last thing I want to do is to smarten up the feds. What they did to me was illegal. The vendetta they have against me was on orders from Bobby Kennedy, and it got out of hand. Since I’m in their files as officially dead, I can travel anywhere I want because no one is looking for me any longer. Do you get my drift?”

  “Yes. I understand now.”

  “Marilyn, I run a very large organization that is comprised of many companies. If I were to be killed or taken into custody, what would happen to my businesses and the people working for me? I have to be very careful in what I do and where I go because there are still people out there who, if they knew I was still alive, would do anything to see me dead. Now come with me and let’s go find Trenchie. And remember – I’m depending on you not to say a word to anyone about what I just told you.”