by Joe Corso
“How ya doing, Piss Clam?”
“Hey, I’m doin' just great. I’ll be out of here in a couple of days. I don’t like hospitals, so I’m gonna do my best to get better real fast. Did we get those two punks?”
“Yeah, you got them. You shot one and Shooter shot the other. I don’t know how you did it because I was told they shot you almost as soon as they entered the room.”
“It was the makeup, Red. They thought I was an old man who was having a heart attack and couldn’t hurt them so instead of shooting me, they shoved me against the wall and I fell into the corner. But as I fell, I pulled out my gun and we must have started shooting at the same time because we both were shot; only I’m still alive, and that bum is dead.”
“Look, Piss Clam. I’m sorry to lay this on you, but I was supposed to leave town tomorrow. But I’ll put it off for a few more days. I have Joey Bones watching Marilyn in Cal Neva, but I’m worried that Reynolds may try something and I want to be there if he does.”
“Don’t worry about me, Red. I’ll be all right. Besides, I have my friends here.” He smiled weakly at Trenchie and Tarzan. “And I’m sure some of the other boys will stop by.”
Red looked down at him sadly, wishing he could will away the pain Piss Clam was feeling, but he couldn’t. But he could be here for him for a few more days. “Like I said. I’ll postpone my trip to Cal Neva for a few days. And after I’m gone, I’ll keep in touch with Tarzan. He’ll keep me updated on how you’re doing,” Red said, trying to console him. When they left the hospital, Red’s demeanor had changed and the guys could see that Red was greatly relieved, knowing that Piss Clam would recover. But what they couldn’t see was the big lump in his throat.
CHAPTER 34
August 4th, 1962, Saturday
Red loved this time of the morning. It was his quiet time; a time when he could read his paper and enjoy his morning coffee without being disturbed. His men knew not to bother him unless it was important and as sometimes happens, routines can occasionally be disturbed. In this instance, it was the phone ringing in his office at 9:30 in the morning. When Red picked up, it was Joey Bones on the other end. Joey was still in Cal Neva, but he was having a difficult time speaking. He was slurring his words and he sounded drunk. “What happened, Joey? Are you sober?”
Joey didn’t answer Red’s question. Instead, he blurted out, “Marilyn’s gone. She’s not here and I don’t know where she is.”
“Joey, how could you let this happen? I told you not to let her out of your sight.”
“They drugged me, Red! I had one drink, a vodka and tonic, and after I drank it, the room started to spin and I felt like I was going to pass out. I remember dropping into one of those lounge chairs in the bar and that’s all I can remember. When I opened my eyes, it was morning and I was in my room, lying on my bed. I ran to Marilyn’s room to check on her, but she wasn’t there. I rushed through the secret tunnel to her cottage and she wasn’t there either. She’s gone, Red. I’m sorry.” As hard as he tried to protect her, Red knew that something like this was bound to happen.
“It wasn’t your fault, Joey. Is Frank there?”
“No. His secretary told me that he received a phone call late last night and he quickly packed a bag, got in his car, and took off. Some sort of a family emergency.” Smart, Red thought. He figured the phone call to Frank was a ruse to get him out of the way so they could get to Marilyn without any interference from him. They knew Frank was his own man and he wouldn’t brook this shit happening in his place, especially to one of his friends. Well that was all water under the bridge now. Red hoped he could find Marilyn before it was too late to save her, although he had a feeling it was already too late. “Stay where you are, Joey. I’m booking a flight to Tahoe right now. I’ll be on the earliest flight I can get a seat on.”
Red walked out of his office and scanned the bar area to see if Shooter had arrived yet. Shooter always arrived at the Starlight Club around nine or nine thirty in the morning. He was sitting at a table, reading the paper’s sports section, drinking his coffee. It appeared that Red’s habits were rubbing off on him. “Shooter!” Red yelled. “Get in here now.”
Shooter dropped the paper and rushed to Red’s office. “What’s up boss?”
“Marilyn’s gone. They’ve got her. Did you get any pictures of Reynolds and his men when you were tailing him?”
“I sure did. I have them in my car. Do you want me to get them?”
“Good man, you bet your ass I want them. Now go and get them and make it fast.” Shooter ran out the door and rushed to his car. The pictures were in the glove compartment. He quickly gathered them and then he rushed back into the club and dropped them on Red’s desk. Red scanned each picture carefully, pulling four aside. Red handed the four pictures to Shooter. “Take these to the photo processing store on the corner next to the drug store and get the face area enlarged. I want clear pictures of the faces of Reynolds and the two guys with him.” Then He called Moose in California and told him he’d be in Cal Neva in the morning. “I want you to drive out to Cal Neva. I’ll meet you there, and before I forget, bring a few staple guns with you. We’re gonna to stop by Marilyn’s house and see how she’s doing. Do you understand what I just told you do?”
“Yeah, boss. I have the spare staple guns you used the last time you were here.” Good. Now can you get here by noon tomorrow?”
“No problem, boss. I’ll leave in a little while and I’ll drive through the night. It doesn’t take long to drive from here to Nevada, so don’t worry; I’ll be there.”
With the business with Moose settled, Red called Trenchie and told him to pack a suitcase and get over to the Starlight Club fast. “We’re going to Cal Neva, so clear it with Mary.”
In the beginning of 1962, Marilyn moved into a new home, a Mexican-style bungalow in Brentwood, California. She purposely moved there to be close to Peter Lawford, John and Robert Kennedy’s brother-in-law. What was so troublesome to the Kennedys was Marilyn’s rage at JFK’s rejection of her and the absolute fear that she was able to strike in both brothers. What they knew and no one else was aware of was, that Marilyn Monroe could bring down the presidency with what she knew. She knew of Jack Kennedy’s marital infidelities and she had his notes and letters. She had information about the Kennedys’ involvement with Sam Giancana. The Kennedy brothers were very careless when discussing national security matters in front of the film star. It was dangerous and bordered on treason. They spoke in front of her as if she were a member of the cabinet, and that only added to an astonishing array of indiscretions she recorded in her diary.
She was causing concern at the highest levels of government and something had to be done with her. She wasn’t just another of Jack’s one-night stands, even though both brothers were having an affair with her at the same time. Bobby, it appeared, would have liked to have been closer to her, but she was interested in Jack, not Bobby. In a moment of passion, Jack told her he would leave his wife to marry her and she believed him. His problems began when he gave Marilyn his private number. She envisioned herself as the first lady, until it became an unrealistic obsession that, in her confused mind, could happen. She played many roles in her lifetime, so why not the role of first lady? When Jack tired of taking her many phone calls, he knew he had made a mistake by giving Marilyn his personal number. She became an unstable liability with her threats to hurt the president. She didn’t believe he would harm her and she frequently called Jack’s private number, very frequently, thirty-five times a day. In fact, she called his private line so often that she had become a nuisance and quite possibly a disposable nuisance. In desperation, Jack instructed Bobby to tell her forcefully that he didn’t want to see or to speak to her any longer … and he would not accept any more phone calls from her. Bobby made a special trip to see her. When he told her what Jack said, that was the moment she struck fear in their hearts. She threatened to destroy the presidency and the brothers knew she had the ammunition to make good her threat
.
The rumors about Marilyn and the Kennedys were beginning to leak out with an energy that was gaining momentum within the media. There was fear among the brothers and particularly Jack that he would be caught up in a whirlwind scandal if he continued his relationship at this pace with Marilyn. In the summer of 1962, Marilyn had become a security risk and she was ordered to cease all contact with the brothers. Now that Bobby had delivered the dreadful news to Marilyn, their relationships ended abruptly. She was suddenly shut out and no longer had access to the president. Marilyn was shattered. Jack knew something had to be done with her, so he simply washed his hands of her and he left it to his brother to make sure that she was no longer a threat to his presidency. It was doubtful that Jack would have condoned murdering his former lover, but Bobby was in a desperate situation. He had to do something about her, but what?
Reynolds had handled it perfectly. He had one of his men place drugs in both her and her bodyguards’ drinks. The drug was fast acting and when Joey passed out, Reynolds had two of his men carry him to his room. The men weren’t worried about anyone seeing them; he was just another drunk they were helping to get to his room. No one gave them a second glance as they opened the door to his room and laid him on the bed. Marilyn was another story, though. They had to be careful when telling her the story they had rehearsed. Her drink had a smaller dose of the knockout drug. When Reynolds, after checking his watch, timed the knock on her door, he hoped he timed it right.
The knock on the door woke Marilyn, but she couldn’t seem to shake the cobwebs from her head. She finally managed to stagger to the door and open it. Reynolds looked at her and asked with faked concern if she was feeling all right. “Yes . . . yes, I fell into a heavy sleep and can’t seem to wake up, but I’ll be all right in a few moments. What do you want?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Monroe, but I have a message from the president.”
Her drowsiness left her immediately and her heart raced. “What message did the president give you to tell me?”
“He wants you to return home because he’s going to call you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Do you know what he wants to talk to me about, Mr. Reynolds?”
Reynolds shook his head. “No, ma’am, that’s personal and none of my business. He just said that he wants to talk to you, but it seemed to me that he was looking forward to visiting you. But that’s just an observation on my part. If you get dressed, I have a car waiting outside that will take us to the private airfield where I have a private jet waiting.”
“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready to go. Will my bodyguard be going with us?”
“I’m afraid not. He had a little too much to drink and he’s really hung over. We’ll call him tomorrow morning and inform him that we brought you home. He’ll understand and will probably meet you at your home.” It made sense to Marilyn not to bother Joey. He’d get a call tomorrow and he’d book a flight and meet her at her home. They drove to a private airfield and they left on a private government jet. They flew the short distance to another private airfield close to her home in Hollywood.
Her press agent, Pat Newcomb, at Bobby Kennedy’s insistence, had slept over. She slept late and awakened around noon on Saturday, wondering when Jack would call. Eunice Murray arrived early and was at Marilyn’s home most of the day; Pat Newcomb said that she left Marilyn’s house somewhere between 5:30 and 6:00 p.m. and Marilyn was fine at that time. She spoke with her hairdresser, Sidney Guilaroff, at about 8:30 p.m. And she confessed to him that she knew a lot of dangerous secrets about the Kennedys, which was something he wished she hadn’t told him. He didn’t want to know about any of this.
Moose drove all night and arrived at Cal Neva very early in the morning. Red was in the lounge having breakfast with Trenchie. Moose spotted him, slid into the booth with him, and ordered coffee. “I need to wake up after driving all night.”
Red waved his hand to get the waitress’ attention. “Coffee and two eggs, bacon and some French fries for my friend here.”
Moose slept while Red drove. They arrived at Marilyn’s house late in the morning of August 5th, 1962. A cacophony of confusion greeted them. Police cars with red and blue lights flashing, media trucks with cables extending to cameramen, who were pointing their cameras at newsmen who were broadcasting something of international importance to television viewers around the world. Red knew immediately that Marilyn had died. The question was . . . was she murdered? And he had no doubt that she was. They waited until the next day, August sixth, when the excitement died down. Red looked around and saw that most of the media and police had left the scene. He felt it was safe enough to knock on a few doors. Maybe he’d get lucky and find something out that might give him a clue as to what had happened to Marilyn. He knocked on a neighbor’s door and he was rewarded when a small woman opened the door and quickly stepped back, frightened by the rough-looking men who stood in front of her. “What do you want?” she asked suspiciously.
“Sorry to bother you this time of the night, ma’am. We’re following up on the apparent suicide that occurred next door. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Who are you men? Can you show me some ID?”
“Ma’am, I can assure you that we are the good guys.” Red pulled his jacket aside so the woman could see his gun. She looked at the gun and didn’t ask for any further identification. Red didn’t know if the gun frightened her into not asking for further ID or she was satisfied that only persons authorized to carry guns were standing in front of her.
“I see,” she said, taking her eyes off the gun. “Now what can I do for you, young man?”
“Can you tell me if you noticed anyone other than Miss Monroe enter her house tonight?”
“It’s funny you should ask. I tried to tell the police what I saw, but they weren’t interested in what I had to say.”
“And what would that have been, ma’am?”
“Well, my name is Elizabeth Pollard, a neighbor of Marilyn’s, and I told police that I saw Robert Kennedy with two unidentified men approach Marilyn’s house at about 6 or 7 p.m. One of the men was carrying a black medical case.”
Red reached into his jacket, took out a small envelope from his inside pocket, and took the four enlarged pictures Shooter had taken and showed them to her. “Could you identify either of these men as the men who were with the attorney general? Take your time, ma’am.”
Elizabeth Pollard took her time and examined the pictures closely. “Yes,” she said. “He was one of them.” She pointed to the man who was holding the black doctor’s bag. Red thanked her and reached for the pictures, but she pulled them back and studied another picture for a moment. “I can’t swear to it, but I’m pretty sure this was the second man. But like I said, I can’t be sure. It was dark and they were in the shadows. When the door to Marilyn’s house opened the light from the room illuminated the men for a brief moment and I think this man was the other man,” she said, holding both pictures in her hand.
“Thank you, ma’am. You’ve been very helpful. Can you tell us where Mr. Lawford lives? If you could point me to his house, I would appreciate it.”
She nodded and took a few steps onto her stoop and pointed down the block. “His house is down the street. The first corner house on this side. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you, ma’am. We’ll be leaving now. You’ve been very helpful.”
As Red was turning to leave, she stopped him. “You know. When you men came to my door, I was frightened. I didn’t know what to expect, what with poor Marilyn committing suicide and all. But I must say that you men were perfect gentlemen. I just wanted to tell you that.”
“Well, thank you for those kind words, ma’am. It’s certainly appreciated. Good-bye, now, and thank you again for your assistance in this matter.”
The men drove down the street and parked by the curb in front of the corner house. Red told Trenchie, Moose, and Shooter to remain in the car, “But keep your eye on the windo
w and look for my signal. When you see it, you come in.” He walked to the front door and knocked.
Lawford’s housekeeper answered. “Yes, can I help you?”
Red smiled and said to her, “I’d like to speak to Mr. Lawford.”
“Mr. Lawford is indisposed and can’t speak to anyone.”
“Would you tell him that Mr. Frank Sinatra sent me with a message for him?” She nodded and turned to deliver the message. A short while later, Red watched as a tired Peter Lawford walked slowly down the stairs. Lawford noticed Red standing by the door, but didn’t go to greet him. Instead, with a slow wave of his hand, he motioned for Red to follow him into his study. Once inside the room, Lawford sat down heavily in his plush high-backed leather chair behind his desk. He reached over to the bottle on his desk and poured a heavy portion of whatever the drink was into a water glass. Do you want one?” he asked Red.
“No, nothing for me. But thanks anyway.”
Lawford sighed heavily as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He appeared lost in thought and then he seemed to remember that he had a guest in the room. “So Frank sent you? What does he want?”
Red answered him. “I was with Frank, but he didn’t send me to tell you anything.”
Lawford became nervous. “Who the hell are you then, and what do you want?”
“Calm down, Mr. Lawford. I’ll tell you why I’m here. I was the guy who was protecting Marilyn Monroe. She was at Cal Neva and I couldn’t be with her because I had to take care of some unfinished business back in Queens. I left one of my men to protect her, but someone drugged him and took her away. They telephoned Frank earlier and gave him some bullshit story about an emergency with his family and he took the bait and drove away in a hurry. There was no one left to protect Marilyn except my man, but he was drugged. I know who the guys are who took her from Cal Neva, and I know they were at her house the night she was killed. Do you want to see their pictures?”