And the mountains of the Eastern Mojave Desert
Thursday, May 11, 1961
When Clemente walked into Eddie Mazzetti’s office, he was worried about the meeting. He knew Tommy Bones had been all over Eddie. That meant Eddie was going to be all over him.
Eddie was behind his desk. Melvin Meyer was sitting on one side of the desk facing Eddie and Herman Silverstein on the other. There was a vacant chair in the middle.
“Siddown, Clemente.”
He sat down. All three men stared at him.
“So, Clemente. Been runnin’ the search for that little Jap bitch since March with no luck.
Take us through everything again.”
“Like you say boss, haven’t had much luck.
Seattle was a dead end. Girl up there hadn’t heard from this Kiko broad in years.”
“You sure?” asked Meyer.
“Yeah." Way I asked, I guarantee she woulda told me if she’d heard.”
“Okay,” said Eddie. “And New York?”
“Guido and Fiore tracked down the New York connection, squeezed her. Hard.”
Silverstein broke in.
“Aren’t we afraid she’ll go to the cops?”
Eddie laughed.
“Come on, Herman. Half of the NYPD is on a pad to the Family. The other half’s coverin’ for them.
Clemente, tell these guys what the girl told Guido.”
“This girl was her roommate in college. The both a them studied dance and theater stuff along with all that other college crap. They decided they would go to New York after they graduated, try show biz.
Month before graduation? Kiko broad gets herself knocked up. Tells her mom. Mom tells Kiko’s pop. He hits the roof. Tells her she has disgraced the family, whole Jap nation. Says he don’t have no daughter no more.”
“Why? Japanese women don’t get pregnant?”
“Not unless they’re gonna get married they don’t. And not by some white guy. That’s even more important than the not married part.”
“So who’s the daddy?”
Some mutt from a rich family. He’s about done with law school, don’t want no half and half bambino. Tells her get rid of it.
She tells him she ain’t dyin’ from no back-alley butcher job. Wants enough money to get the job done someone knows what they’re doin’.
Mutt comes through with the money. Her and the roommate goes off to New York.”
Meyer interrupted.
“This other girl, she Japanese too?”
“Nah. Regular white broad.
The two a them audition for some stuff, don’t get nowhere.”
“What are they doin’ for money? She woulda run through the abortion bucks before too long. Family decide to help her after all?”
“Nope. This other girl? The roommate? Parents back in California are bucks up. They’re slippin' the white girl enough dough she can take care a the both a them.
Kiko gets too far along to audition, works as a waitress, put some money in the kitty. Does that until she can’t work no more, checks into one a them unwed mothers places. Has the baby. Gives it away.
Turns out she never intended get no abortion. Was just tryin’ to get enough dough to go to New York. “
“Then what?”
“They’re both doin’ the temporary job thing, still tryin’ to catch a break.
The roommate? She’s a real looker, and stacked! Guido told me he woulda porked her in a minute!
Anyway, she starts to get some work. Little stuff, ya know?
But this Kiko broad? Nothin’. Not a lot of jobs for slant-eyed girls, I guess.
She keeps tryin’ a while, sees New York ain’t her ticket, goes back to California.”
“And does what?”
“Back to school.
See, this little Jap is super smart. Degree in some kinda science stuff. Song and dance shit was extra.
Anyway, she’s in some kinda after-regular-college school, gets another degree a some kind while she works doin’ some science things, a lab at the college.”
“What kind of science stuff?”
“Jeez, boss. I dunno. The roommate tried to explain it, Guido and Fiore, they couldn’t make heads or tails. Somethin' to do with some kinda bugs.”
“You mean spiders and roaches and shit?”
“Nah. Little tiny bugs. Gotta look through one a them microscopes to see 'em.”
Herman interrupted.
“She’s so damn smart, all these degrees, how’d she end up workin’ as a Keno girl?”
“This roommate? The stacked broad? She says this Kiko still had a jones for the song and dance. Leaves the science gig and comes to Vegas, see if she can break in here.”
“Okay, how about Vincenzo and Lino in this Salinas place.”
“Told me it was a real dump. Nothin’ but wetbacks and vegetables and dirt.
They knock on the door, papa san don’t ask them in. They’re out on the porch talkin’ to him, but when Vincenzo mentions the Kiko broad’s name, says don’t have no daughter that name. Slams the door in their face.
They’re standin’ on the porch decidin’ whether to kick down the door when mama san sneaks out, talks to them. Tiny woman. Apologizes, her husband. Starts to cry. Whole time she’s talkin’, keeps drippin’.
Says, ‘Please, tell me where Kiko is. I’m worried about my daughter.’
They say, ‘We don’t know where she is. Why we’re here.’
Says, ‘My husband thinks Kiko disgraced the family. He never wants to see her again. But she’s my daughter. I worry about her.’
Vincenzo says the woman probably woulda said more, but papa san opens the door, says somethin’ in Japanese. Woman gives a little bow, goes in the house. Papa san slams the door again. Harder this time.
Vincenzo and Lino go for coffee and talk it over. Decide the parents haven’t heard from Kiko. But don’t wanna let it go at that.
They drive to San Francisco, North Beach, talk with the Family Underboss about a way to keep a loose net over these Japs. Turns out there’s a crumb works at the post office in Salinas has a bad habit thinkin’ he can pick the ponies. Into a Family-connected bookie and shylock for over three large.
Vincenzo and Lino go back to Salinas, brace the guy. At first he almost craps his pants, thinks they’re gonna bust him up bein’ late with the vig. When Vincenzo tells him he wants a favor that will erase half what he owes, he falls over himself askin’ what he can do. Vincenzo gives him the name, address of the Yoshida family. Tells him his job is to watch for a letter from the daughter.
When they get back to Vegas, Vincenzo mails the guy a page from the girl’s diary so he can see the handwritin’ ‘cause Vincenzo don’t think she’s dumb enough to put a return address on a letter.”
“Why don’t the guy just steal the letter?”
“Scared of the shylock, not scared enough to lose his job.”
“Guido and Fiore back now?”
“Yeah. The New York Family keepin’ a eye on the roommate. Not hard to track. Got a little part in a show on Broadway, won’t be leavin’ town.”
“Anything else?”
“The other Families, New Orleans, Kansas City, Milwaukee, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Boston? Give pictures the broad to their crews. Shows up anywhere, she’s dead. The Commission approved the contract, so even open cities like Miami? Whoever nails her, gets them fingers, picks up the ten large.”
“Clemente, you think we’re gonna find her?”
Clemente was silent for a few moments. It was clear he was not comfortable with answering.
“Don’t look good, boss. She’s for sure got the money out of the case.
I don’t know how much was in there, it’s not my business to know, but I gotta think it’s enough to blow the country.
I think she’s maybe in Mexico somewhere. Can go there without no passport. Same with Canada.”
“Okay. You wanna step outta the office a minute? Me and Melvin and Herman gotta ta
lk about somethin'.”
Clemente was glad to get out of the room.
Eddie settled back in his chair.
“Okay, so we made up the skim, right Melvin?”
“Yes, we made it up by the April pickup, but I think Chicago screwed us.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Sam told us there was almost seven hundred thousand in the case. I think that was bullshit. You know they never tell us what the skim count was. They just send the guy out at the end of the month. He spends a few days havin’ a good time. Then he picks up the money their guy in the count room has been stuffing in that metal box all month. Their inside guy gives the money to the courier, and the guy locks it in the special briefcase and heads back to Chicago.
But we never know how much he takes. I mean, we can guess, because we know how much used to come in before this started. But the action on the casino floor has picked up a lot. Maybe doubled, maybe tripled. But we have no way of knowing with that parasite in the count room because we never get a month without a skim. And sometimes, especially with Frankie, these guys even go to the casher’s cage and skim the cream there.
And by the way, that creates a real problem for us, because we have to go back afterward and falsify the fill slips for the chips going back out to the floor so the gambling commission doesn’t sniff out the scheme. And that isn’t easy. It takes four signatures on each of those slips. Thank God Herman here is a forger as well as a slick accountant.
Anyway, I think they lied to us about the count, but we had to make it up on top of what the courier picked up from the regular skim.
It was very difficult! The official books for the month make it look like we were closed!”
“That’s not our worst problem, Melvin. Tommy Bones is breathin’ down our necks. He wants this girl dead. Says The Outfit's losin' respect from the other Families in the Commission – their courier, and a made man to boot, took down by a little girl.”
“At least we’re square on the money.”
“But we gotta find this girl, or at least find out where she went if she’s out of the country. I’m tellin’ you, don’t want Tommy Bones out here. He draws the Feds like flies, and I don’t want them lookin’ at us with new eyes. No way.”
“That brings up another thing,” said Herman. “And Sam understands this, even if Tommy Bones don’t.
As far as we can tell from our sources inside, the Feds haven’t tumbled to this skim business. That’s a lot of dough leakin’ out of here. And not just here but from the other casinos. It’s all pre-tax money that’s bein’ siphoned off to the Families.
If the IRS ever gets even a whiff of this, we’re screwed. ‘Cause remember, it was the IRS accountants put Capone away. Not the boys with the guns.”
“Good point.”
Eddie picked up the phone.
“Send Clemente back in.”
When Clemente was sitting in front of them again, Eddie started with a question.
“You’ve been talkin’ to the boys, the other Families. How sure are you this woman isn’t in Seattle, Salinas or New York?”
“Boss, I’m not sure of nothin’ here.”
“Okay, forget ‘sure.’ What’s your best guess?”
“I think she ain’t in none a them places. I don’t think the people we squeezed are givin’ us the run around – they really ain’t seen her, heard from her.
I think she’s gone. In another country, livin’ large.”
“You think she got out, even with the Families watchin’ the airports?”
“That’s just it. The big airports. There’s a hunnerd other ways outta this country. No way we can watch ’em all. And once she’s out, she’s gonna be hard to find.”
Eddie turned to Meyer and Silverstein.
“You guys agree with Clemente on this?”
“Makes sense to me.”
“Me too.”
“Well, I disagree. Course, I got no way of knowin’, but I think she’s still around somewhere.”
“Not in Vegas?”
“No, she could never hide here.”
“Then where?”
“You ever drive across this desert?”
“Christ, not if I can help it.”
“Me either. Borin’, ugly place. Not a blade of grass or a drop of water. And huge. Miles and miles of nothin’.
What better place to hide until she thinks we’ve given up?”
Clemente spoke again.
“Man, Eddie, if I had the kinda dough that broad has, I’d be somewhere I could enjoy it.”
“I know you would. Clemente. I know you would.
And that’s just it. You’re not her!
We know she’s smart, and I think she went to ground around here somewhere because she knew the more she moved around the better chance we’d find her.
But, just in case, send Lino and Vincenzo to New York to watch the roommate.
I know the New York Family’s watchin’ her, but she’s not as important to them as she is to us. The roommate’s the person Kiko’s tightest with. If she’s still on the fly, that’s the place she might show up.”
“Okay, boss.”
“And here? Back here, I want you to send Guido and Fiore to all them Podunk towns down on the desert.”
Eddie pulled a map out of his desk drawer and unfolded it.
“Smoke Tree, Kingman, Parker, places like that.”
He tossed the map to Clemente.
“Have them show her picture round. They can do it nice or do it hard, whatever way they think works, each place they go.
I think she’s around here close somewhere. Little bitch is laughin’ her ass off, knowin’ we’re lookin’ everywhere else in the country for her.”
He retrieved two badges from the drawer and put them on the desk.
“Here’s a couple Vegas Police Department badges. They’re real. I picked them up from some retired guys who owe us a favor or two. Tell Guido and Fiore they can flash these if they think it’ll help with certain people. But have them be careful about that.
The rest of the time they can use these.”
He reached in the drawer and got out two more badges.
“These are private investigator tins. They can say they’re lookin’ for this woman because the family hasn’t heard from her, or she’s come into some money. Whatever they think will work.
And hey? Tell them to dress good. Blazers and ties. And keep the blazers buttoned so the guns don’t show, unless they need to show them.”
“Jeez, boss, they’re gonna cry the blues about that. It’s hot enough out on that stinkin’ desert without wearin’ no jackets and ties.”
Eddie didn’t reply. He just sat staring at Clemente.
Then he exploded.
“Goddamnit, Clemente, you think I give a shit if those goombahs sweat a little bit?
Let me explain somethin’ to you.
Tommy Bones comes out here with a crew, there’s a chance you and me could end up countin’ fish at the bottom of Lake Mead.”
Clemente held up his hands.
“Sorry, sorry boss. You’re a hunnerd percent right.
I’ll get right on it.”
He hurried out of the room.
At noon the following day, Guido and Fiore were headed south on Highway 95. Fiore was at the wheel as they entered Searchlight, Nevada.
“Pull over. Stop at the Casino.”
“That dump? Jesus, a woman with that kind of money’s not gonna hang around a place like that.”
“Get somethin’ through your head, you stupid Guinea. She’s not ‘hangin’ around.’ She’s hidin’ out. Maybe somebody here seen her.”
“Okay, okay.”
They pulled off the highway in front of the casino and coffee shop and went inside.
The three blackjack tables were covered. There were some old guys sticking nickels and quarters in a couple of slot machines. The place smelled of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and desperation.
&
nbsp; A chubby man wearing a plaid sports coat, a shirt with horizontal stripes and a bolo tie, spotted them when they came in. He walked over, evaluating their clothes as he came.
“You gentleman looking for some action? I can get a dealer behind one of those tables right away.”
Reaching in his pocket, Guido said, “Nah, we’re lookin’ for this woman.”
He pulled out Kiko’s picture and held it in front of the man.
The man stepped back.
“Jesus! You guys carrying?”
“What if we are?”
“Come on, not in the casino.”
Fiore stared at him. It was not a friendly stare.
“Hey, pal, in your crappy casino or anywhere else we want. Got it?”
Guido moved closer to the man, still holding the picture.
“Answer the question. You seen this broad?”
The man held up his hands, palms out.
“Okay, okay. Give me a second to look, all right?”
He studied the picture for a moment.
“Uh uh.
And who wants to know?”
Guido looked around to see if anyone was listening.
“Tommy Bones, you dumb sonofabitch.”
The man looked like someone had jabbed him with a cattle prod.
“Holy shit! Why didn’t you say so?
No, I haven’t seen her or anyone who even looks like her. Okay? And sorry for the hard time. I didn’t know who you was askin’ the question for.”
Guido put the picture back in his pocket. The two men headed for the door.
“Hey, you guys come back anytime. Anytime at all, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” said Fiore as they went out the door. “Count on it.”
They pulled onto the highway. As they left the desert hills where the remnants of Searchlight crouched abandoned and decaying under the indigo dome of a cloudless sky, they could see the New York, Ivanpah and Clark Mountains stretching away to the west. Of course, neither man knew the names of those ranges, nor of the Newberry or Black Mountains turning on the eastern horizon, nor of the Dead Mountains far to the south.
For these men were at home on city streets and in alleys of asphalt. Comfortable on concrete. Completely uninterested in the natural or undeveloped world. To them, the Mojave was a place best avoided: preferably flown over. And if they were forced by circumstances to drive across it, they hugged the highway. They lacked any desire to put their feet on anything that had not been put in place by the hand of man.
Mojave Desert Sanctuary Page 5