Robert Randisi - Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said, “Frank, I need to talk to Sammy and Peter about threats.”

“You just talked to Sammy.”

“I mean, about the same kind of threats Dean’s been gettin’.”

“Why do you have to do that?” he asked, with a frown.

“What if one of them has been gettin’ the same threats, but hasn’t said somethin’ about it?” I asked.

“Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “I’m just tryin’ to come up with a next step. If one of them has been gettin’ threats then we’ll know they’re not just bein’ aimed at Dean.”

He thought that over for a moment, then said, “I see your point. You’ll have to talk to Joey, too.”

“That’s right.”

Frank scratched his cheek and thought a moment.

“Try to do it discreetly,” he said. “Don’t tell ’em about Dean if you don’t have to.”

“What can I-”

“Just say your askin’ all of ’em about it,” he suggested, “even Dean.”

“And what do I tell them is the reason?” I asked. “I mean, I’m just a pit boss.”

“Tell ’em you’re doin’ it for the Sands. Tell ’em Jack Entratter wants to make sure they’re safe in his hotel.”

We both knew what they’d think, that Frank Costello wants to make sure they’re safe. It would make them pretty sure I worked for Costello and, consequently La Cosa Nostra. I didn’t like havin’ anybody think I was mobbed up, but when it came to these guys, when was I ever going to see them again after they finished filming the movie? We just didn’t travel in the same circles.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll be discreet.”

“Good. I knew I could count on you. So, how’s Jerry workin’ out for ya?”

“He got arrested tonight.”

“What? When? Where? And for what?”

I explained that the cops had come to the casino and arrested Jerry on suspicion of murder.

“Did Jerry murder someone?”

“Well, no,” I said, “He, uh, did kill someone, but it wasn’t murder.”

Frank looked disgusted.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, Eddie?”

“How much has Jerry told you?”

“That doesn’t matter,” he said. “Come on, give.”

So I told him everything that had gone on, before and after Jerry. He listened intently and did not interrupt me once. I wondered how much of my story matched Jerry’s, and why there would be any discrepancy.

When I was done he said, “Jesus, you’ve been through a lot.”

“We-”

“And all to do me and Dean a favor?” he asked. “You sure Jack didn’t threaten you and make you help?”

“No,” I said.

“Maybe you should bow out,” Frank said. “Stay healthy.”

“Frank, I started this, I’d like to finish it.”

“You sure everything is tied together?”

“The warehouse you’re using as a set is where Mike Borraco was killed. Up to that point I thought everything was separate, but now I have my doubts.”

“And you don’t want to quit?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re a stand-up guy, Eddie.”

I didn’t reply.

“Stay inside tonight,” he said. “Dean says he wants to deal some blackjack, so you don’t have to go out. Tomorrow you’ll have Jerry back. Jack Entratter will see to that.”

“Frank, I was just wonderin’.”

“Wonderin’ what?”

“Couldn’t you ask some of your … friends for help?”

“Sometimes,” Frank said, “askin’ the wrong people for help is a sign of weakness, Eddie.”

I guess that was supposed to answer my question.

“I’ve got to get ready for the show,” he said. “You gonna be there tonight with your girl?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, “and Bev was just a friend, not my girl.”

“Oh. When she turned down Nick Conte I thought she was your girl.”

“No.”

We left the steam room together. He dropped his robe and started to get dressed, so I did the same. I told him I had some friends coming to the show tomorrow night, and wanted to get them back stage. He said he’d arrange it. I gave him Danny and Marcia’s names.

“The doll,” he said. “Another friend?”

“Yeah,” I said, “another friend.”

He wagged his index finer at me and said, “Sounds to me like you got more than just a few.”

“Maybe.”

“Let’s go, kid,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder. “We both got things to do.”

We made our way to the casino floor and stopped there.

“Listen, if things start to get really hairy, I can probably get you some more help,” he said. “You just let me know.”

“Okay, Frank. Thanks.”

He nodded and went off to get ready for the show. Me, I stood there wondering how much hairier things could get.

I decided to try dropping in on Peter Lawford first. I had the feeling if I waited until the next day, Lawford wouldn’t remember me. He struck me as being a very self-involved type.

I called up from downstairs and he told me to come on up, assuring me that I would not be bothering him. When I knocked on the door of his suite he called “Come in.”

I entered and I saw he was on the phone. He waved at me to approach and pointed to a sofa. I noticed that his suite was not as spacious as Dean Martin’s.

“Yes, Pat,” he said into the phone. He was dressed casually in tan slacks and an open-neck white polo shirt. “Yes, dear.” He rolled his eyes at me and I shrugged. His hair was wet, presumably from his shower from the steam room. I’d also had a shower, using the facilities the hotel made available to employees.

“Well, just tell Jack that Frank-” He stopped short and frowned. “I am not Frank’s lackey, or his errand boy, dear.” He was remarkably calm for a man whose wife had just called him those names. “Frank is devoted to helping Jack get elected. All I’m trying to do is my part for the family. Yes, well, you ask Jack if he wants Frank’s help or not and see what he says. And then ask Bobby, see what he says.” He listened again, then jumped in, as if he was interruptingher. “I have to go now, love. I have to get dressed for the show. Yes, I know I’m an actor, not a performer. I act like I’m performing.”

Apparently, Peter’s wife agreed with both Jerry and me about his presence on stage with great entertainers like the rest of the Rat Pack. I had never met the woman, but found myself liking her.

“Yes, I will,” he said, leaning over to hang up the phone. “Yes … yes … yes …”

With the phone still against his ear he stooped down closer and closer toward the base, as if he was going to hang up any second.

“I love you too, dear,” he said, and finally hung up. “My wife,” he said, unnecessarily. “Are you married?”

“No,” I said. “Never have been.”

“Smart man. Can I get you as drink? Or a cigarette?”

“No, I’m okay,” I said.

“I’m going to have one of both.”

He walked to the bar, moved around behind it.

“I won’t take up too much of your time,” I said. “I know you have to get ready for the, uh, show.”

“Yes,” he said, pouring himself what looked like scotch. “Frank absolutely insists that I go on stage with he and Dean and the others. It’s ludicrous, really, but there you are. One must keep the leader happy.”

It sounded to me like he was talking about someone like Hitler, not Frank Sinatra.

The actor came around the bar with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“What did you want to talk to me about … Eddie, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” I said. “Eddie. Mr. Lawford-”

“Oh, call me Peter, please,” he said interrupting me. “Any friend of Frank’s is a friend of mine.”