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

“No, no,” he said. “I wanna know what’s goin’ on.”

“Have you heard from anyone?” I asked.

“Not a thing.”

“Okay, we managed to do what we wanted to do last night,” I said. “We, uh, got rid of all the dead weight.”

“That’s good … I think.”

“Yeah, it is good, but we couldn’t go back to the house. There was somethin’ happenin’ on the block. The police were there.”

“At your house?”

“We’re not sure,” I said. “Could’ve been a domestic disturbance of some kind. Meanwhile, we’re at the Sands. If you hear from anyone, call me here.”

“Okay, Eddie.”

“Listen, Sam …”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a possibility that someone won’t want me to be the go-between anymore.”

“Well, that’ll be tough,” he said, “because I want you to.”

“Okay, let’s see what happens.”

“Eddie, thanks, man. And tell the big cat I said thanks, too, will ya? And that other cool cat? You guys are the best.”

“Talk to you soon, Sam.”

I hung up and remained seated on the bed for a few moments, wondering what our next move should be.

I wondered if I should ask Sammy what this was all about. Just what was this photo he was trying to buy back, and why were people apparently dying over it? I was operating in the dark, and when it looked like all I had to do was make the buy, that was okay. But things were different now.

Another trip to Lake Tahoe might be in order.

But there were still some things I could do while we waited. As Jerry had pointed out, I knew a lot of people in Vegas. That was the original reason I’d been asked to help Frank and Dean last year.

Jerry and I were going to go out casino-hopping.

The last time Jerry had been in Vegas he’d discovered blackjack. He didn’t play, but he loved to watch-mostly the people.

I found him studying a couple of tables that, at this time of night, were being played by tourists. The regulars usually came out during the day. Except for one. Ellie James was a woman of indeterminate age who had three kids, one grandchild, and still turned heads when she walked through the casino. Last year Jerry had noticed her and called her “the broad with the big titties.”

“That broad still comin’ in here?” he asked as I reached him.

“Ellie’s here every day-or evening, that is. She comes in to play at night because she’s busy during the day with her family.”

“Oh, right.” He frowned. “Still can’t believe she’s a grandma.”

“Come on,” I said. “We got some things to do.”

“Like what?”

I started away and he fell into stride next to me.

“I’m gonna show you some other casinos, and we’re gonna talk to some people”

“What people?”

“People who know what goes on in Vegas.”

Our first stop was the Dunes. I knew a car jockey there who had two older brothers who worked dodges all over town. They were small time, but they had their fingers in lots of pies.

“Hey, Billy,” I called as he started to get into a car.

“Hey, Eddie G.,” Billy said, with a big grin. Billy Sykes had red hair and a face full of freckles that made him look sixteen, even though I knew he was thirty. His baby face made for even better tips. “What’s shakin’?” He looked past me at Jerry. “Whoa, who’s the man mountain?”

“Billy, this is Jerry,” I said. “He’s watchin’ my back.”

“Watchin’ your-what’s goin’ on, Eddie? You in trouble?”

“A little bit,” I said.

“What can I do?”

During the walk over I had been trying to think of a way of explaining my problem. I knew Billy wasn’t the type who would ever talk to the police, but I also didn’t want him connecting me to four dead bodies, if and when they showed up.

“I’m lookin’ for somebody working a blackmail dodge,” I said.

“Some high roller gettin’ the squeeze?”

“Yeah, and he doesn’t like it. He’d rather pay to find these guys than pay these guys.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“My gratitude,” I said, “and a hundred bucks.”

“Groovy,” he said, then frowned. “You ain’t thinkin’ about my brothers, are ya? Their meat is usually tourists, not high rollers.”

“No, I wasn’t thinkin’ about them, Billy, but maybe they heard somethin’ helpful. They’ve always got their ears to the ground, right?”

“Hey, Billy, get that car out of here!” his boss yelled.

“I’ll talk to ’em, Eddie, and I’ll keep my ear to the ground,” Billy promised. “I gotta get to work.”

“Sure, Billy,” I said. “Just call me at the Sands, okay?”

“Okay, Eddie.”

Billy got in the car and drove it away.

“Can you trust that guy?” Jerry asked.

“I didn’t really tell him anything,” I said. “Even if those bodies show up, Billy will never connect them to me.”

“What’s next?” he asked.

“We were gonna walk up to the Stardust, but let’s get the car. I wanna go downtown after that.”

“Ain’t we goin’ inside?” Jerry pointed to the Dunes.

“No,” I said, “but we’ll go into the Stardust, and cross over to the Riv.”

We got the Caddy and drove it over to the Stardust, parking behind it. We had to walk through the entire casino to get to where I wanted to go, the hotel lobby. I was hoping Gary Hogan was on the concierge’s desk that night, and he was.

“That’s our man,” I said to Jerry.

“The mousy-lookin’ bald guy?”

“That mousy-lookin’ bald guy can get you anything you want in Vegas.”

Gary looked up as we approached the desk. He’d been working the Vegas strip for years before I got there. He’d known everybody then and knew everybody now. In fact, he claimed that he was there the night Herb McDonald invented the buffet at the El Rancho Vegas.

“Hey, Eddie, man,” Gary said, grinning. Though he was in his fifties his balding head was no sign of age. He told me once he’d gone bald in his thirties. “Who’s your friend?”

“Gary Hogan, this is Jerry Epstein. Jerry’s helping me out with something.”

“Must be a big somethin’,” Gary said. “Somethin’ I can do?”

“Since you ask, yeah, there is.”

“Need a big game?” he asked. “A girl? Two girls? Somethin’ … kinkier?”

“Blackmail.”

“You want to blackmail someone? I know a good photographer-”

“I thought maybe you might,” I said, “but I’m kinda workin’ for somebody on the other side of the play.”

“Oh,” Gary said. “So whataya need from me?”

“I need to know who in town works that kind of dodge-you know, with photos? Somebody not afraid to work a high-roller, highprofile type?”

“High profile? So you mean somebody with more balls than brains?”

“Right,” I said, “and who doesn’t work alone.”

“Lemme give it some thought, Eddie,” Gary said. “Maybe I’ll have some ideas tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Gary,” I said. “You can get me at the Sands or leave a message anytime.”

“Gotcha.”

His phone rang then, as if on cue, and Jerry and I backed off and went out the front door.

We crossed over to the Riviera, where I had basically the same conversation with a bartender in the lounge. Pete Tynan had been tending bar in Vegas for twenty years, and had been at the Riv for three. He liked to spread his talents around. He either quit his jobs to go elsewhere, or ended up fired when he got caught sleeping with a guest.

I told him what I needed and he promised to give me a call if he thought of some names.

From the Riv we went back through the Stardust to retrieve the Caddy and drive downtown to the Golden Nugget.