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

“What if you can’t get in touch?”

“I’ll have to, somehow,” I said. “Maybe Jack Entratter can help me.”

“I can still make those phone calls, you know,” he said. “Find out about the hitters?”

“Yeah, okay, do that when we get to Tahoe. You might come up with something I can use.”

We drove in silence for a while. I was tired, but so keyed up that my eyes were wide open.

“Mr. G.?”

“Yeah?”

“What about Mr. Giancana?”

“What about him?”

“He might be able to help you.”

“He’d never get to the Kennedys,” I said. “Maybe before Jack was President, but not now.”

“You never know if you don’t ask.”

I took a quick look at Jerry, then put my eyes back on the road.

“Why would he do that for me?” I asked.

“I think he liked you when he met you last year.”

“Have you seen or talked to him since then?”

“No.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to get in touch with him.”

“I got a number you could call.”

I hesitated, almost asked him if he’d make the call for me, but instead I said, “I’ll give it some thought.”

“You need to get some help wherever ya can, Mr. G.,” he said. “I know that, Jerry,” I said. “Okay, I’ll give it a lot of thought.”

We phoned Sammy and woke him up when we got to the Cal Neva and let ourselves into cabin four. He invited us up to his suite but I wanted to go a different way.

“Why don’t you come over here?” I said. “I want to be able to talk without anyone knowin’ where we are.”

“Okay, man,” he said, “your call. Since you have no room service can I bring anythin’?”

“Coffee.”

“Unless you want something stronger?” he said.

“Coffee’s fine,” I said. “The way I’m feelin’ if I have a drink it might knock me right out.”

“Where’s your partner?”

“He’s here.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I hung up and walked to the window. I could see a portion of the lake from there.

“This ain’t what I expected when you said cabin,” Jerry observed.

“I know,” I said, “when I first came to see Frank I thought I’d find somethin’ more rustic.”

“Huh?”

“Somethin’ more … earthy, plain. Nothin’ this fancy.”

“Oh, yeah … rustic.”

“How about a hike while we’re here?” I asked.

“I was willin’ ta hike for you in Reno, Mr. G.,” he said. “Let’s don’t push it, huh.”

Sammy had a driver who had him at the cabin, with coffee, inside of half an hour. The driver carried the tray in-coffee and some donuts-while Sammy gave me and Jerry a big hug each. Jerry wasn’t used to that kind of demonstrative behavior, but he put up with it.

Sammy poured three cups of coffee, handed us each one, then sat down on the sofa. The driver went outside and waited in the car.

“My eyes used to get like yours when I was tired,” he said. “Now this one stays clear.” He pointed to the glass eye and laughed.

I noticed that his good eye was as red as both of mine.

“You want out, Eddie?” he asked.

“Sammy, I need-”

“No hard feelings,” he said. “I appreciate what you’ve done, especially when it came to the gun. You can walk away.”

“I need to explain this to you.”

He sat back on the sofa and said, “I’m all ears, pal.”

I told him what I knew, what I suspected, and what I thought. He listened without interrupting.

“Whataya think?” I asked when I was done.

“I don’t know, Eddie,” he said. “Hit men? Maybe from the CIA? Or Joe Kennedy?”

“Or Bobby.”

Sammy dry-washed his face with both hands, then sat forward and sipped some coffee.

“Are you sure you’re not … overreacting?” he asked.

“I don’t think so, Sam. You know that you took some photos when Jack Kennedy was around. We talked about this as a possibility.”

“Well, yeah,” he agreed, “but nothing anybody would kill for.”

“That you know of.”

“I’ve wracked my brain, Eddie,” Sammy said. “If I caught JFK with his pants down, I don’t know it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t so much his pants down as his hand out.”

“A payoff?” Sammy asked. “Making one or paying one?”

“What about that million dollars Peter wanted to show us last year? Remember?” I asked. “Didn’t he say the hotel owners wanted to donate it to JFK’s campaign?”

“Yeah, but there’s nothin’ illegal about a campaign contribution.”

“Well, if you can’t figure it out, I sure can’t,” I said. “My only move now is to try and get out of this alive.”

“There’s still the photo I’m tryin’ to buy back,” he said.

“I’m thinkin’ that might be a dead issue, Sammy. And I do mean dead.”

“You mean you think whoever was tryin’ to sell me the photo is dead?”

“My theory is, they went out on a limb, tried to make some extra money on the side, and got slapped down for it.”

“But if I hear from them again …”

Yeah, what if he did hear from them again. What if Caitlin and her boyfriend were still after their fifty grand? Could I just walk out on him?

“If you get another note let me know,” I said. “But if they call this time, because notes don’t seem to be working, then you tell them to call me personally. Tell ’em that’s the only way you’ll do it.”

“But what if that’s not what they wanna do. What if they just release the photo-”

“They don’t make any money that way, Sam,” I said. “These are greedy people. They could sell it to a tabloid, but not for as much. They’ll do whatever it takes to get that money. Just play hardball with them. Tell them I’m the go-between and they have to discuss the details with me. Tell ’em that’s the only way you’ll do it.”

“And what phone number do I give them?” he asked. “You’re not goin’ home, are you?”

“No, I can’t go home until I clear this up,” I said. “They tried something there once, already. Gimme a minute to think.”

I poured myself some coffee while I thought the situation over. Sammy just sat on the sofa and stared out the window at the sky.

“Okay,” I said, “if they call just arrange a time for them to call here.”

“How do I get in touch with you?”

“Same thing, I’ll be here,” I said. “Also, if you can’t get me call Jerry.” I didn’t have to send Jerry back to New York just yet. The big guy looked at me and nodded his okay.

We stood up and Sammy walked me to the door.

“I hope you’re wrong about all this, Eddie,” Sammy said. “I mean, I hope this isn’t some big conspiracy….”

“This country was built on conspiracies, Sammy,” I said.

“That may be, but I don’t need ’em in my life. I got enough grief.”

“I hear ya,” I said, and he left.

“Jerry,” I said, “after what happened in Reno why don’t you go with Sammy? Watch out for him.”

“For how long?”

“I have a feelin’ they’re gonna move fast on this,” I said. “I’d just feel better if you were with him for a while. We don’t know what those Feds from Reno-if they are Feds-will pull.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“I’ll be okay,” I said. “I’ve got your other gun. Get goin’.”

“Gotcha, Mr. G.”

There was a knock at the door about ten minutes later. I opened it, thinking it was Jerry.

“What’d you forget-”

It wasn’t Jerry. It was two men with guns.

“Eddie Gianelli?” one of the men asked.

“You know that already, or you wouldn’t be here,” I said, with a calm that surprised even me.