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

He turned his head and looked at me.

“Do you know you can literally park in California and gamble in Nevada? We’re actually in a place called Stateline, Nevada, although it’s not considered a city, or even a town.” He shook his head. “I can’t figure out if this place is gonna eventually be overrun by gamblers, or skiers.”

“I vote gamblers,” I said.

“Why?”

“There’s no gambling season.”

Frank laughed and said, “That’s a good point, Eddie.”

Frank dropped me at my cabin and put his hand on my arm before I could get out of the car.

“I have to leave tomorrow,” Frank said, “but I’ll be back at the end of the week. I’ve got to talk to some architects.”

“If I want to head back tomorrow? …”

“I’ll leave the copter, and the pilot’s phone number. Also, Henry will be here, in one of the cabins. Henry?”

“Cabin thirty, Mr. Sinatra.”

“You’ve got my number in Palm Springs, right?” Frank asked me.

I had it. I’d never used it up to that point, but it was written in my phone book.

“Yes.”

“Good, call me if anything comes up, otherwise I’ll talk to you or Sammy at the end of the week.”

“Gotcha.”

“Look, Eddie, Sammy may only want you to be a go-between, but be careful. More than likely nothin’ll go wrong, but …”

“If I learned anything last year, Frank, it’s to be careful.”

We shook hands and I said, “I’ll see you, Frank.”

“See ya, pally. Hang onto that key. Cabin’s yours whenever you want it.”

I got out and as I mounted the steps Henry pulled away. When I got to my door I saw a white envelope pinned to it.

I knew that already something had gone wrong.

I dropped the note on the table and said to Sammy, “This isn’t right.”

Sammy picked up the note, unfolded it and read it.

“How did they know?” he asked.

“That’s my question.”

He looked at it again then put it down.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “Only you, me and Frank knew you were going to help.”

“And I only agreed yesterday,” I said.

“I should call Frank-” he said, starting for the phone.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we can control this,” I said. “Only you and I know about this. Let’s keep it that way.”

“But … we can trust Frank.”

“Sammy who did you tell about this?”

“Only Frank.”

“Nobody else?”

“I told you that yesterday,” he said. “Only Frank.”

“And we can trust Frank, right?”

“I thought … I thought we-” Sammy looked confused, then distressed.

“I’m not saying Frank gave it away,” I told him, “not deliberately, anyway.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“There’s the driver, the copter pilot, his man George,” I said, ticking them off on my fingers. “Who knows how many other people were around when he said something on the phone-”

“To who?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe Dean. I’m just making a point for us to keep this between ourselves. We can tell Frank that you were contacted, got a note with instructions. Just not where … not yet.”

“Okay,” he said, backing away from the phone. “So now what do we do?”

I walked to the table and picked up the note. Instructions were neatly typed.

“The meeting place is in Vegas,” I said, “so the first thing I have to do is go back. Can you get your hands on this much money?”

“I can arrange for you to pick it up from a bank in Vegas. I can have Silber call-”

“Can you do it yourself, Sam?”

“You mean I can’t even trust-”

“Just you and me for now, Sammy. Okay?”

“Well, okay,” he said. “I’ll make the call.”

“I’ll get Henry to take me to the helipad,” I said. “Today’s Tuesday and the meeting is set for Thursday. I want to get set up.”

“Set up … how?”

“Well,” I said, “all of a sudden I don’t think I want to do this alone.”

“But you just said, only you and me-”

“I know, but I think I have just the man for the job, and I’d only have to tell him so much.”

“Who?”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I think I’ll keep that little tidbit of information to myself.”

I turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Vegas,” I said. “I’ve got some arrangements to make, and a call. How long are you booked here for?”

“Until the end of next week.”

“Good. I’ll call you from Vegas.”

“Call me when you get there,” Sammy said. “And before you go to the meeting-and after.”

“Sammy, relax,” I said. “Concentrate on your shows. I’ll take care of this.”

“Eddie, wait,” Sammy shouted as I opened the door.

He came up to me and said, “You’re gonna have to look at the picture when you pay for it.”

“That’s right,” I said. “How will I know it’s the right one unless you tell me?”

“You’ll know,” Sammy said. “Just-yeah, you’ll know when you see it. Just promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t show it to anyone else,” he said. “Not anyone, under any circumstances, understand?”

“I understand, Sammy.”

“Give me your word.”

“I promise,” I said. “No one sees that photo except me.”

“Thanks, man,” Sammy said. “You’re solid.”

“I’ll talk to you, soon.”

I went back to Henry and the car, waiting for me outside of Harrah’s.

“Henry,” I asked, “can you call the copter pilot and take me to the helipad? I want to get back to Vegas right away.”

“We’ll have to stop back at the Cal Neva, sir.”

“You can call him from there?”

“He’s also in one of the cabins. We’ll just pick him up.”

“Good man.”

I sat back in the seat, took out the note and studied it again. The meet was set for a neighborhood that wasn’t normally one I’d go to alone. Since somebody already knew I was the go-between, that just added to my trepidation about doing this alone.

Normally, I would have called my buddy Danny Bardini, a Las

Vegas private eye with an office on Fremont Street, but I knew Danny was out of town on a case. That left me with only one other option, one other person I felt I could trust.

I only hoped he’d be able to get to Vegas from New York on such short notice.

All during the drive to the helipad, and then the flight to Vegas, I kept wondering if either Henry or the copter pilot-“Skip”- had anything to do with the word leaking out? Then I had to wonder how much damage the leak might have done. Maybe Sammy should have switched to someone else, but it was too late to do anything about it.

When I got back to my house in Vegas I took a few minutes to shower and get a beer from the refrigerator. Then I sat down in my living room and made the phone call. I had to look the number up, because this was the first time I’d ever dialed it.

“Yeah?” the voice at the other end asked.

“Jerry?”

A pause, then, “Who wants ta know?”

“It’s Eddie, Jerry,” I said. “Eddie Gianelli, from Vegas.”

“Hey, Mr. G.!” His tone changed completely. “Whataya say?”

I didn’t know what to say. Exchange pleasantries with my friend, the Brooklyn hood? Or just tell him I needed his help? Wasn’t I doing to him what I once thought Frank and Dino were doing to me? Just using me when it was convenient?

“How you doin’, Jerry?”

“Good, Mr. G., good. How’s the Caddy?”

“Safe and sound, buddy.”

“I love drivin’ that car, ya know?”