Robert Randisi - Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

I picked up the phone. Sammy started to leave the room, then turned and called to Jerry, “Hey, big fella, you wanna sit with us tonight?”

“With you, and Mr. G., and Mr. S.?” Jerry asked. “Sure.”

“Good,” Sammy said. “Joey’ll be there, too. And he might bring Buddy. We’ll make a party of it.”

In a couple of hours Sammy’s attitude seemed to have changed. I chose to look at that as a good thing. Maybe he needed to get out and party a little. Once he was contacted again it would start all over.

Jerry said, “What do we do with the gun?”

I looked at it, still lying on the cloth on the coffee table.

“Nobody’s looking for it,” I said.

“Not yet.”

“When they find the body they’ll start looking for a murder weapon,” I said.

“We can’t let ’em find it,” Jerry said. “It’ll point to Mr. Davis.”

Just for a split second I thought, what if Sammy did it? We’d be covering up for him. But I didn’t really think Sammy Davis Jr. was a killer.

“Mr. G.? Did you hear me?”

“No, Jerry,” I said. “No, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“I said, why don’t we drop it out of the helicopter? Over the desert, or the lake?”

I thought that over.

“Nobody would ever find it,” he added.

“Maybe not,” I said, “but the pilot would be a witness.”

“Good point,” Jerry said.

We both sat there, waiting for Sammy and staring at the gun. Then I remembered and called down to the lobby for the driver.

“There’ll be three of us going to the heliport, Henry.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

“Thank you, Henry.”

When Sammy came out, Jerry and I were still wondering what to do with the gun.

“Why don’t we just leave it here?” he suggested.

“We can’t do that,” I said.

“Why not?” Sammy asked. “Nobody’s looking for it, nobody knows-”

“The blackmailers know,” I said. “If this was an attempt to frame you they could call the cops and give them your name. What if they came here and found the gun?”

“Okay,” Sammy said, “okay, so we just take it with us.”

“I can carry it,” Jerry offered.

“No,” I said, “we have to hide it, or get rid of it.”

“Okay,” Sammy asked, “where?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out.”

We met Henry in the lobby.

“The car is ready, sir.”

“Okay, Henry,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Jerry, Sammy and I got in the backseat, and Henry headed for the heliport.

For a moment I thought about giving the gun to Henry to get rid of, but that would make him a witness-or, at least, an accomplice.

We had wrapped it back up in the hotel and Jerry carried it again now. When we got to Vegas we’d drive out to the desert and get rid of it, I thought, bury it. Bodies had been hidden in the desert for years without being found. Why not a hunk of metal?

“Let’s just go to Vegas,” I’d said in the room, “enjoy Dino’s show, and worry about all of this tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Sammy agreed, “why not? After all, maybe we’ll never hear from them again. Maybe one killed the other and he’s on the run.”

Yeah, maybe, but what about the photo Sammy was afraid of?

What would happen to that?

Our table was a riot, especially with Joey, Frank, Sammy and Buddy Hackett heckling Dino. At one point Dean pulled the four of them on stage with him and they cracked the entire audience up for a good twenty minutes while Jerry and I watched with everyone else. Then he kicked them off and we all fell quiet and listened to the man do what he did best-sing.

At one point he came out into the audience and approached a table where a young couple was sitting. They looked young enough to be newlywed, the man sandy-haired, the woman pretty and dark-haired.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Dean asked her.

“Shirley,” the girl said, shyly.

“And is this fine young man your husband?”

“Yes.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jerry.”

“Where are you from, Shirley.”

“San Francisco.”

“Do you think your husband would mind if I sang a song to you?”

“I wouldn’t care if he did,” she said, and everyone laughed, including her husband.

“Well, all right, then …” Dean said, and he sang “I’d Cry Like a Baby,” to her. She blushed furiously, but loved every moment of it. When he finished Dean shook hands with the beaming young husband and returned to the stage.

When he was finished with his act we all applauded, nobody louder or longer than Frank.

“Let’s give him some time before we go backstage,” Frank said.

I knew Frank was curious about how things were going, but he didn’t mention it in front of Joey and Buddy. And I knew he wouldn’t talk about it in front of Dino, either. He’d have to have the patience to wait until he got either me or Sammy alone.

We waited for the Copa Room to empty out and had one more round of drinks.

“You guys gotta let me come on stage with you one night,” Buddy said.

“Where were you an hour ago, Buddy?” Frank asked. “You were up there with us.”

“Just remember,” Joey said, wagging his finger at Buddy, “there’s only room for one comic in this act.”

“Hey,” Buddy said, “you start doin’ some TV and there’ll be room for me, right? Who else would you recommend?”

“I ain’t recommending nobody, pal,” Joey said, “ ’cause I ain’t givin’ up this gig.”

Frank looked at me and rolled his eyes. We both looked at Sammy, who seemed to be staring at something only he could see.

“Hey, Sam,” Frank said, “wake up, baby. It’s party time.”

“I’m ready, Frank,” Sammy said, with a big forced grin. He stubbed out a cigarette and lit another one right away.

“Come on,” Frank said, pushing his chair back, “let’s go back and see Dino.”

“I’ll get the check,” I said, intending to have the Sands comp everybody.

“I already took care of it, pally,” Frank said, slapping me on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Backstage was not as wild as it had been when the whole Rat Pack was entertaining, but it still took us a while to work through the crowd to where Dino was holding court.

“Just in time,” he said, putting one arm around Frank and the other around Sammy. “I was goin’ to change. Are we still on for tonight?”

“We sure are,” Frank said. “It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“Too bad Peter’s not here, too,” Sammy said.

“We don’t need Peter,” Frank said. “We got Eddie G.”

I was flattered and figured that Peter’s connection to the Kennedys was keeping him in Washington these days.

I knew that the real late-night swingers in the group were Frank and Sammy, but this was opening night for Dean, so everyone agreed to go out and celebrate.

We waited for Dean to change while the backstage area cleared out. Then when Sammy, Joey and Buddy left to go out front and wait, Frank grabbed my arm. Jerry drifted out with the other three and I knew he was feeling like a fifth-well, seventh-wheel.

“I know it’s Sammy’s business,” Frank said to me, “but I haven’t gotten a chance to get him alone. How’s everything goin’?”

I hesitated, then decided that Sammy probably wouldn’t mind Frank being clued in on some details.

“Not good, Frank.”

I told Frank things didn’t go well the first time I tried to help Sammy, so we were going to take a second shot at it. I didn’t tell him about the photo, or the dead body. And I didn’t tell him anything about Sammy’s gun-which, by the way, Jerry said he’d taken care of.