Robert Randisi - It Was a Very Bad Year

‘It has to do with a murder investigation,’ the cops said. ‘That’s all I can say right now, sir.’

‘I’m Mr Gianelli’s lawyer.’

‘Then you might as well come with us,’ the cop said.

‘All right,’ Rudin said, wearily. He looked at Frank.

‘We’ll take your bags to the Sands,’ Frank said. ‘Meet you there.’ Then he looked at me. ‘Both of you.’

‘OK,’ Rudin said.

‘Thanks, Frank,’ I said.

‘Mickey will bring you home,’ Frank said. ‘Don’t worry.’ Juliet gave me a dazzling smile of encouragement over Frank’s shoulder.

‘OK, boys,’ I said, extending my wrists, ‘take me to your leader.’

‘There won’t be any need for cuffs, Mr Gianelli,’ the cops said. ‘We have a car over here.’

I fell into step with two of them. The other two walked behind us.

Back in the same interview room. I could tell because the wall clock had a paint smudge on it, probably from the last time the room was painted.

Hargrove was going to be mad. I knew that. When he saw the news last night, or that morning, he must have hit the roof. He had the cops watching the airport for Frank’s plane, figured I’d be coming back. Now I was going to be back on the stove for the murder of Wayne Whatsisname.

When he came in I was braced for him to be yelling and screaming, red in the face. Instead the door opened and he walked in, all calm and collected. He took off his jacket, hung it over the back of a chair, then sat down at the table across from me. He took the time to light a cigarette, and then rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

‘You fucked me, Eddie.’

‘Did I?’

‘That information you gave me was old,’ he said. ‘Probably only hours old, but old enough for the LA cops to make the pinch.’

‘But that’s good, right?’ I asked. ‘They caught the kidnappers.’

‘Yeah, that’s good,’ Hargrove said, ‘that’s real good. . for them. But I didn’t have anything to do with it. So you know what that means?’

‘What?’

‘You’re back on the hook for Wayne’s murder. You and your big buddy. Where is he, anyway? He wasn’t on the plane with you. I told you guys not to leave town for long.’

‘He’ll be back later this afternoon, on a commercial flight.’

‘That’s good, that’s real good.’

‘What about the Rienza brothers?’ I asked. ‘Are you still holdin’ ’em, or did you let ’em go?’

‘Those two idiots are still in a cell,’ he said. ‘One of their guns came up as being used in a robbery in LA. We’re still checking on the other one.’

‘How do they look for Wayne?’

‘They have alibis,’ Hargrove said, ‘but we’re still checking those out.’

‘How come you never asked me for my alibi?’

‘Because I knew you’d have one. Probably unbreakable. That wouldn’t mean you didn’t do it.’

‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That’s quite an attitude for a detective to take. That could apply to anyone.’

‘Not everyone has your friends, Eddie. For instance, you got a hotshot lawyer outside, makin’ all kinds of noise about wanting me to let you go.’

‘Mickey Rudin.’

‘Yeah, Sinatra’s mouthpiece, right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘That means you ain’t gonna call your buddies, the Kennedys, to get you out this time?’

That had happened some time ago, and it obviously still stuck in his craw.

‘No,’ I said, ‘it means you’re gonna bust my balls for a while and then let me go.’

‘Why would I do that?’

‘Which one? Bust my balls, or let me go?’

‘Both,’ Hargrove said, ‘in any order you like.’

‘Well, you’ll bust my balls because you’re a sonofabitch, but you’ll let me go because you’re a good detective.’

He seemed to be surprised by one of those statements.

‘Eddie, Eddie. .’

‘I didn’t kill Wayne Whatsisname, Detective,’ I said, ‘and neither did Jerry. Let me out of here and I’ll prove it.’

‘Now you’re a detective?’

‘You’re the detective,’ I said. ‘Let’s just call me the assistant detective.’

He studied me for a moment.

‘Whataya say?’

Forty-eight hours.

That’s what Hargrove gave me. When they were gone he said he’d be bringing me and Jerry in for some line-ups.

I rode back to the Sands with Mickey Rudin in a car Jack Entratter had sent.

‘Thanks for comin’ along, Mr Rudin,’ I said.

‘Mickey, please,’ Rudin said. ‘I don’t think Detective Hargrove will be bothering you anymore, Eddie. If he does, just give me a call.’

I studied Rudin’s profile, because he didn’t look at me when he spoke. I was sure he thought his presence had gotten me sprung, but the fact was I had gotten myself out. Since Frank was nice enough to send his lawyer with me, though, I didn’t do anything to disappoint him.

When we got to the Sands I took Mickey to the front desk to get him the key to his suite. He went upstairs to freshen up, once more assuring me that he was at my disposal.

When he was gone I called Jerry’s room. I had lied to Hargrove. Jerry was on Frank’s plane, but when he saw the uniformed cops coming, he chose to stay behind until they left — with me in tow.

‘Hey, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘That was fast.’

‘Believe it or not, Hargrove was reasonable,’ I said.

‘What did you promise him?’

‘The killer of good ol’ Wayne.’

‘How we gonna find that out?’

‘You and me,’ I said, ‘are gonna find Barney Irwin.’

‘How?’

‘This is my town, Jerry,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna pull out all the stops.’

‘This I gotta see, Mr G.’

‘Well, meet me in the lobby,’ I said, ‘and be ready to drive.’

My contacts in town were extensive.

Before JFK’s death I had put the word out to some of my people, but I’d never really had a chance to cash in. The assassination had taken up most of their time and attention.

This time around, I was gonna hit everybody, and stay on their asses.

We made the rounds on the strip of valets, car hops, bellmen and doormen and waitresses, not to mention the maitre d’s.

After that I directed Jerry to drive off the strip. Every few blocks I had him pull over so I could talk to a vendor, a street performer, a cabbie, a truck driver. I had him wait outside buildings while I talked to reporters, photographers, doormen, security guards, reporters; people I knew had their own ears on the streets.

‘Now what?’ he asked, when I hopped back into the car after talking to a waitress at a downtown restaurant.

‘Now we’re really gonna get down and dirty,’ I said. ‘Drive.’

I directed him to a part of town he felt very comfortable in.

‘Now these are my people,’ he said, looking at the hookers and stoners.

‘Down boy,’ I said. ‘You’re a lot better than this.’

‘Thanks, Mr G.,’ he said, ‘but sometimes I ain’t so sure.’

I directed him down a side street and immediately a couple of girls approached the car, one on each side.

‘Wow,’ one girl said to him, ‘you’re a big one.’ She was a blowsy blonde with big breasts squeezed into a top two sizes too small.

‘Call off your friend, Darla,’ I said to the skinnier brunette on my side.

‘Back off, Candy,’ Darla said. ‘Eddie here is a friend of mine, not a client.’

‘What about you, sugar?’ Candy said to Jerry. ‘Wanna do some business?’

‘Not right now, thanks, baby,’ he said. As tongue tied as Jerry was around Ava Gardner and Abby Dalton, he knew how to talk to hookers. ‘Maybe some other time.’

‘What’s on your mind, Eddie?’ Darla asked.