Robert Randisi - It Was a Very Bad Year

‘Thank us tomorrow, when we hand you the photos,’ I told her.

She suddenly looked troubled by something.

‘Uh, Eddie. .’

‘Yes?’

‘You’re not going to. . oh, never mind.’

‘We’re not going to what?’ I asked. ‘Look at the photos before we bring them to you?’

She nodded.

‘I ain’t gonna look at ’em at all, Miss Dalton,’ Jerry said. ‘And Mr G. is only gonna look to make sure they’re the right ones.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean-’

‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Jerry,’ she said, ‘you can call me Abby, you know.’

‘No,’ I said, ‘he can’t.’

In the end he was calling her Miss D.

We talked a bit about JFK, his presidency, and his assassination, and then we walked her back up to her room. On the way I offered one more time to take her to see Tony Bennett.

‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘but I think I’ll just turn in early. When you hand me those pictures tomorrow I’ll head back to Hollywood. I need to get back to work or Joey might divorce me.’

‘Hey, that’s funny,’ Jerry said. He looked at me. ‘See, Joey’s got the same name on the show-’

‘I know, Jerry.’

When Abby closed the door and left us standing in the hall Jerry said, ‘You wanna go inside with her, Mr G.? I can go downstairs. .’

‘No, Jerry,’ I said, ‘Abby and me, we don’t have that kind of relationship. Let’s go check on Billy.’

‘OK, Mr G.’

Billy was gone.

‘Goddamnit!’ Jerry raged. He stormed around the suite. ‘What the hell-’

‘Maybe he just went downstairs.’

‘I thought I scared the hell outta that boy!’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘he’s your cousin. If he’s anything like you — and I mean, beyond the physical — then he doesn’t scare easy.’

That seemed to mollify him a bit. He stopped pacing and stared at me.

‘You might be right about that, Mr G.’ He sat down heavily on the sofa. ‘But where did he go?’

‘If he went downstairs he’s not going to be able to play,’ I reminded him.

‘But what if he goes somewhere else?’

‘They won’t give him any credit,’ I said. ‘What’s he going to play with?’

‘Oh shit!’ He sprang up off the sofa and ran into one of the bedrooms. ‘Crap!’ he shouted, and ran back out. ‘He took the five grand I stashed for you.’

‘Abby’s money?’

He nodded.

‘If he gambles five grand and loses, somebody’ll give him more on credit. And then I’ll have to tell Abby something.’

‘I gotta find him, Mr G.’

‘Before he spends Abby’s money.’

‘If he does,’ Jerry said, ‘I’ll make it good, Mr G. I’ll pay her back. But I gotta find ’im.’

‘OK,’ I said, ‘let’s go.’

We searched the Sands first, but there was no sign of Billy. I took Jerry to meet Mike Dotelli, for two reasons. I wanted to hear from Mike if he’d seen Billy again. And I wanted Jerry to know who had screwed with his cousin.

I waved Mike out from behind the pit.

‘What now?’ he asked.

‘This is Jerry,’ I said. ‘It’s his cousin you put in a seventy grand hole today.’

Jerry glowered at Dotelli, who reared back a bit.

‘H-he put himself in a hole.’

‘He’s a kid,’ Jerry said, ‘You never should have okayed him. If I ever hear that you do it again, I’ll come back and tear your arms off. Am I clear?’

‘What? Clear?’ Mike looked at me for help. ‘Is he serious?’

‘Dead serious,’ I said.

‘Jesus.’ Mike looked at Jerry. ‘Yeah, yeah, that’s clear.’

‘OK, then,’ I said. ‘Have you seen him again today? In the past hour, maybe?’

‘Yeah,’ Mike said, ‘yeah, he came back down, tried to play some more.’

‘Did you let him?’ Jerry demanded.

‘N-no, no,’ Mike said. He looked at me again. ‘Jack came down and read me the riot act. No more credit for kids. And he said not to let this particular kid play anymore, even with cash.’

‘OK,’ I said, ‘so where did he go?’

‘I don’t know,’ Mike said. ‘He left, Eddie. He just. . left.’

‘Damn it!’ Jerry said. ‘He’s gonna try another casino.’

‘Don’t worry, Jerry,’ I said, ‘don’t worry. We’ll find him. Come on.’

Outside we split up. I went left, to the Flamingo. Jerry went right, to the Desert Inn. Billy couldn’t have gotten much further than that. With five grand he should still be sitting at a table in one of those casinos.

I entered the Flamingo and headed for the craps tables. I didn’t see Billy. I spoke to a pit boss and a couple of dealers I knew, described the kid, but they hadn’t seen him. I hoped Jerry was having better luck at the Desert Inn.

He was. I got there in time to see Jerry practically carrying Billy out the door by his collar. The kid was almost as big as his cousin, but I swore Billy’s feet weren’t touching the floor.

‘. . it easy, cuz,’ Billy was saying. ‘Jeez. I tol’ you I was gonna give you back your money as soon as my system kicked in.’

‘You asshole,’ Jerry said. ‘I don’t care what kind of system you got, you don’t steal from me!’

‘It wasn’t stealin’,’ Billy argued. ‘It was borrowin’.’

‘Borrowin’ without permission is stealin’,’ Jerry said. ‘Believe me, I know. And you don’t borrow from family.’

Sometimes Jerry’s values were skewed, but he kept to them. Breaking somebody’s legs was OK if they deserved it, but he wouldn’t steal without a very good reason, and he sure wouldn’t steal from family.

And it must have confused him that he could put a scare into anybody but his own cousin.

When Billy saw me he tried to plead his case.

‘Eddie, tell ’im,’ he said. ‘You know about systems.’

‘What I know, Billy,’ I said, ‘is that they don’t work. Casinos love jerks like you, who think they can beat the house.’

‘Yeah, but my system’s gonna work. I know it is.’

‘Test it out with your own money,’ Jerry said. He handed me the envelope with the five grand, which confused Billy, but we didn’t explain it to him just then.

We started to walk toward the Sands, Jerry still holding on to Billy’s collar, although the kid’s feet were now touching the sidewalk.

‘How the hell do you plan on payin’ back seventy grand?’ Jerry demanded.

‘With my winnings!’ Billy argued. ‘Come on, cuz, it’s gonna work. I’m gonna make us both rich. Just let me play your five G’s.’

Jerry shook him by the collar, as if he was holding a wet cat.

‘You’re gonna go to the room and stay there, and you ain’t gonna leave unless I say so.’

‘Hey, I gotta eat-’

‘Order room service,’ Jerry said.

I was pretty sure room service was comped, since Jack had given them the suite, but I kept that to myself. Who knows what kind of food bill the kid could have piled up? After all, he was Jerry’s family.

It had been a long day.

As I walked through the casino and hotel lobby everybody still seemed to be in shock. TVs and radios were still tuned to news channels, waiting for the latest word on the assassination.

As I drove home I was thinking about Frank, and how much he thought of JFK. I never had the same high opinion — and, in fact, was not that crazy about any of the Kennedy clan I’d had dealings with — Joe, Jack or Bobby. But I felt bad for Frank because, from his point of view, he’d lost a good friend. I would have called if I’d known where to get ahold of him. I wondered if he had returned to Palm Springs?

I stopped and picked up some takeout fried chicken. I didn’t feel like sitting in a restaurant with a bunch of people who were in mourning, so I just sat in my own kitchen and had a snack alone. Then I turned in, hoping the next day would be better for all of us.