Robert Randisi - It Was a Very Bad Year

Frank gave us a limo and a driver to run us out to the airport. In an hour and a half we were back at the Sands.

During the plane ride I had given Entratter all the facts. Or so I thought.

‘But you don’t have any facts, Eddie,’ Jack said. ‘Where’s that piece of paper?’

‘At home,’ I said, ‘somewhere.’

‘It better have more on it than you remember,’ he said. ‘Just some names are not gonna connect the dots for the cops. Why didn’t you just give your info to the FBI?’

‘Raggio,’ I said. ‘That asshole pissed me off. I don’t wanna see him get any credit.’

‘You’d rather give it to Hargrove?’

‘In a heartbeat.’

‘OK, then,’ Jack said. ‘Keep me clued in.’

I agreed, although I didn’t know why. This part was really my problem. If Barney Irwin had tried to frame me for murder, I wanted his ass.

And I was gonna get it.

We got to my house before seven p.m. I pried my fingers from the dashboard, because Jerry had made it in record time.

When we got in the house Jerry said, ‘So where’s the note?’

‘It was in my windbreaker,’ I said. ‘The one I wore that day.’

He followed me to the hall closet, where I grabbed the windbreaker from a hanger. I went through the pockets, found a couple of business cards, a restaurant receipt, a book of matches, all the crap you stuff into your pockets.

No note.

‘It’s gotta be here,’ I said. I went through the pockets again.

‘You sure this is the jacket you wore when we searched his place?’ Jerry asked.

‘Positive.’

‘Well, I know you took it, because you showed it to me. So it’s gotta be here someplace.’

We started to search. Kitchen drawers and cabinets; bathroom waste basket and counter, behind the bowl, under the sink; hall and bedroom, closets; beneath the cushions of the living-room chairs and sofa.

‘Nothin’,’ I said, frustrated.

‘We looked everywhere, Mr G. How about your locker at the Sands?’

‘We can look, but I doubt it.’

‘Then let’s go.’

We left the house and went back out to the Caddy. It was getting dark and, suddenly, I got an idea.

‘You got your pen light on ya?’

‘Yep.’

‘Let me have it.’

He passed it over. I clicked it on, shined it on the front seat. I stuck my hand between the back rest and the cushion on the passenger side, and then on the driver’s side.

‘Bingo,’ I said, feeling something. I grabbed it between my index and middle finger and pulled. It was crumpled, but I smoothed it out and saw it was the piece of paper I’d found in Irwin’s desk.

‘There you go,’ I said. ‘Look.’ I handed it over.

‘Sinatra,’ Jerry said, ‘and Canoga Park.’

‘That can’t be a coincidence,’ I argued. ‘Also, Frankie said the kidnappers called each other by name. Joe. Barry. And John — or Johnny.’

‘What about November twenty-second?’ Jerry asked.

‘The day JFK was shot.’

‘You think this photographer was involved in the assassination?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I said, ‘I think he was either involved with or knew about the kidnapping.’

‘What about Keenan and Amsler?’

‘Could be last names to go with the first names we’ve got,’ I said.

‘So Barry Keenan or Barry Amsler? Or Joe Keenan, Joe Amsler? And what about the date?’

‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Maybe that was the original planned date of the kidnapping.’

‘And when JFK got shot they called it off?’

I nodded.

‘So whataya wanna do with this, Mr G.? Give it to that Hargrove asshole?’

‘I’d rather give it to that asshole than Raggio. He’s a bigger asshole. But before we do, let’s see what Danny’s found out. I’ll call him to meet us.’

We went back inside.

I tried Danny at home first. When he didn’t answer I called his office, not really expecting to find him there. I was surprised when he answered.

‘I have some info,’ he said. ‘Let’s meet.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘The Horseshoe. Fifteen minutes.’

Since he was down the street, he got there before us. We slid into the booth across from him.

‘You fellas wanna order?’ the waitress asked.

‘Burger and fries,’ Danny said. He looked at us. ‘I haven’t eaten today.’

‘Burger and fries sounds good,’ I said.

‘Two,’ Jerry said.

‘Don’t you mean three?’ the waitress asked.

‘No,’ Jerry said, ‘I mean I want two burgers, and a double order of fries.’

‘OK,’ she said, ‘four hamburgers, four fries. Drinks?’

We all ordered Cokes. What was a burger without a Coke?

‘Here’s what I got-’

‘Before you tell us, let me tell you what we got,’ I said. ‘Frank Jr. is home, the cops and the FBI are still looking for the kidnappers.’

‘Frank Sr. must be relieved.’

‘He is,’ I said, ‘but we rushed back here because of this.’

I pushed the crumpled piece of paper over to his side of the table. He smoothed it, read it.

‘What’s this?’

‘Frankie says he was held in Canoga Park.’

Danny looked down at the note paper.

‘Canoga Park,’ he said. ‘Sinatra. November twenty-second?’

‘Mr G. thinks that might be the original date of the kidnapping.’

‘And they called it off when JFK got shot,’ Danny said, nodding. ‘Makes sense. Amsler amp; Keenan? You know those names?’

‘I don’t,’ I said.

‘What about Barry, Joe, or Johnny?’

‘Irwin’s name is Barney, but I doubt he would’ve misspelled his own name.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Danny said. He took his note pad from his pocket, flipped a few pages. ‘Here it is. Barney Irwin has a brother.’ He looked at both of us. ‘His name’s John.’

‘Johnny,’ Jerry said.

If one of the kidnappers was John Irwin, then the others were either Barry Keenan and Joe Amsler, or Barry Amsler and Joe Keenan.

‘Danny, do you have a lead on Barney Irwin’s whereabouts?’

‘I’ve checked his studio and his house again,’ Danny said. ‘He ain’t been back.’

‘Maybe he was with his brother and these other guys in Canoga Park,’ I said.

‘We’ve got to call somebody,’ Danny said.

‘Not that prick Raggio, the Washoe County DA,’ I said.

‘What about Hargrove?’ Danny asked.

‘That asshole!’ Jerry said.

‘Who’s that leave?’ Danny asked. ‘The FBI?’

‘If I could find the guy who saved my ass in Reno I’d give the info to him,’ I said. ‘Agent Kent.’

‘What about the LA County DA?’ Danny asked.

‘Not as much of an ass,’ I said.

‘What about Frank?’ Danny asked. ‘We could give the info to him.’

‘Frank’s carryin’ a gun, Danny,’ I said. ‘He might go off the deep end if he found these guys.’

‘OK, not Frank. What about Entratter? What would he do with the information?’

We sat silent for a moment, then Jerry said, ‘He might call Mo Mo.’

‘And then those guys turn up dead,’ Danny said.

‘There’s Frank’s lawyer, Mickey Rudin,’ I said. ‘He seems on the level.’

‘He does work for Frank, though.’

‘I don’t think he wants Frank on trial for murder,’ I said.

‘OK,’ Danny said, ‘OK, so you give the names to Mickey Rudin. He’ll probably give them to the DA, or the FBI.’

‘But the decision will be his,’ I said.

‘Frank’s gonna be pissed you didn’t tell him, Mr G.,’ Jerry said.

‘I’ll have to take that chance, Jerry,’ I said. ‘I can’t let Frank find these guys.’

‘Eddie,’ Danny said, ‘we got names now. I could try and track these guys. We could pick them up ourselves.’