Mario Puzo - Fools die

Cully asked him why, and Gronevelt said to him. “There’s something a little flaky about that girl. Don’t risk her with the real top rollers.” And Cully accepted that judgment.

But Cully’s biggest coup with Charlie Brown was fixing her up with Judge Brianca, the federal judge in Las Vegas. Cully arranged the rendezvous. Charlie would wait in one of the hotel’s rooms, the judge would come in the back entrance of Cully’s suite and the judge would enter Charlie’s room. Faithfully, Judge Brianca came every week. And when Cully started asking him for favors, they both knew what the score would be.

He duplicated this setup with a member of the Gaming Commission, and it was Charlie’s special qualities that made it all work. Her loving innocence, her great body. She was great fun. Judge Brianca took her on his vacation trips fishing. Some of the bankers took her on business trips to screw them when they weren’t busy. When they were busy, she went shopping, and when they were horny, she fucked them. She didn’t need to be courted with tender words, and she would take money only for shopping. She had the quality of making them believe that she was in love with them, that she found them wonderful to be with and to make love with, and this without making any demands. All they had to do was call her up or call Cully.

The only trouble with Charlie was that she was a slob at home. By this time her friend Sarah had moved from Salt Lake City to her apartment and Cully had “turned her out” too after a period of instruction. Sometimes when he went to their apartment, he was disgusted by the way they kept it, and one morning he was so enraged after looking around the kitchen he kicked them both out of bed, made them wash and clean up the black pots in the sink and hang up new curtains. They did it grouchily, but when he took them both out to dinner, they were so affectionate that all three of them wound up together in his suite that night.

Charlie Brown was the Vegas dream girl, and then, finally, when Cully needed her, she vanished with Osano. Cully never understood that. When she came back, she seemed to be the same, but Cully knew that if ever Osano called for her, she would leave Vegas.

– -

For a long time Cully was Gronevelt’s loyal and devoted right-hand man. Then he started thinking of replacing Gronevelt.

The seed of betrayal had been sown in Cully’s mind when he had been made to buy ten points in the Xanadu Hotel and its casino.

Summoned to a meeting in Gronevelt’s suite, he had met Johnny Santadio. Santadio was a man of about forty, soberly but elegantly dressed in the English style. His bearing was erect, soldierly. Santadio had spent four years at West Point. His father, one of the great Mafia leaders in New York, used political connections to secure his son, Johnny, an appointment to the military academy.

Father and son were patriots. Until the father had been forced to go into hiding to avoid a congressional subpoena. The FBI had flushed him out by holding his son, Johnny, as a hostage and sending out word that the son would be harassed until the father gave himself up. The elder Santadio had done so and had appeared before a congressional committee, but then Johnny Santadio resigned from West Point.

Johnny Santadio had never been indicted or convicted of any crime. He had never even been arrested. But merely by being his father’s son, he had been denied a license to own points in the Xanadu Hotel by the Nevada Gaming Commission.

Cully was impressed by Johnny Santadio. He was quiet, well spoken and could even have passed for an Ivy League graduate from an old Yankee family. He did not even look Italian. There were just the three of them in the room, and Gronevelt opened the conversation by saying to Cully, “How would you like to own some points in the hotel?”

“Sure,” Cully said. “I’ll give you my marker.”

Johnny Santadio smiled. It was a gentle, almost sweet smile. “From what Gronevelt has told me about you,” Santadio said, “you have such a good character that I’ll put up the money for your points.”

Cully understood at once. He would own the points as a front for Santadio. “That’s OK with me,” Cully said.

Santadio said, “Are you clean enough to get a license from the Gaming Commission?”

“Sure,” Cully said. “Unless they’ve got a law against screwing broads.”

This time Santadio did not smile. He just waited until Cully had finished speaking, and then he said, “I will loan you money for the points. You’ll sign a note for the amount that I put up. The note will read that you pay six percent interest and you will pay. But you have my word that you won’t lose anything by paying that interest. Do you understand that?”

Cully said, “Sure.”

Gronevelt said, “This is an absolutely legal operation we’re doing here, Cully, I want to make that clear. But it’s important that nobody know that Mr. Santadio holds your note. The Gaming Commission just on its own can veto your being on our license for that.”

“I understand,” Cully said. “But what if something happens to me? What if I get hit by a car or I go down in a plane? Have you thought that out? How does Santadio get his points?”

Gronevelt smiled and patted his back and said, “Haven’t I been just like a father to you?”

“You really have,” Cully said sincerely. And he meant it. And the sincerity was in his voice and he could see that Santadio approved of it.

“Well then,” Gronevelt said, “you make out your will and you leave me the points in your will. If something should happen to you, Santadio knows I’ll get the points or his money back to him. Is that OK with you, Johnny?”

Johnny Santadio nodded. Then he said casually to Cully, “Do you know of any way that I could get on the license? Can the Gaming Commission pass me despite my father?”

Cully realized that Gronevelt must have told Santadio that he had one of the gaming commissioners in his pocket. “It would be tough,” Cully said, “and it would take time and it would cost money.”

“How much time?” Santadio said.

“A couple of years,” Cully said. “You do mean that you want to be directly on the license?”

“That’s right,” Santadio said.

“Will the Gaming Commission find anything on you when they investigate you?” Cully asked.

“Nothing, except that I’m my father’s son,” Santadio said. “And a lot of rumors and reports in the FBI files and New York police files. Just raw material. No proof of anything.”

Cully said, “That’s enough for the Gaming Commission to turn you down.”

“I know,” Santadio said. “That’s why I need your help.”

“I’ll give it a try,” Cully said.

“That’s fine,” Gronevelt said. “Cully, you can go to my lawyer to have your will made out so that I’ll get a copy, and Mr. Santadio and I will take care of all the other details.”

Santadio had shaken Cully’s hand and Cully left them.

– -

It was a year after that Gronevelt suffered his stroke, and while Gronevelt was in the hospital, Santadio came to Vegas and met with Cully. Cully assured Santadio that Gronevelt would recover and that he was still working on the Gaming Commission.

And then Santadio said, “You know the ten percent you have is not my only interest in this casino. I have other friends of mine who own a piece of the Xanadu. We’re very concerned about whether Gronevelt can run the hotel after this stroke. Now, I want you to take this the right way. I have enormous respect for Gronevelt. If he can run the hotel, fine. But if he can’t, if the place starts going down, I’ll want you to let me know.”

At that moment Cully had to make his decision to be faithful to Gronevelt to the end or to find his own future. He operated purely on instinct. “Yes, I will,” he said to Santadio. “Not only for your interest and mine, but also for Mr. Gronevelt.”