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Overview
After Dean Martin saves Eddie G. from being hit by a car, Eddie’s torpedo buddy Jerry arrives from Brooklyn with the news: somebody’s put an open contract out on him. As anybody can cash it in, pros and amateurs alike are coming out of the woodwork to have a shot. So when Eddie is asked by Frank Sinatra to go to LA to help his friend, Judy Garland, with a problem she’s having, Eddie and Jerry seize the opportunity to leave Vegas.
Unfortunately the contract follows Eddie there. While doing his best to stay alive long enough to find out who hates him so much they want him dead, Eddie must also solve Judy Garland’s problem of a possible stalker and blackmailer.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780727871749 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Severn House Publishers |
| Publication date: | 02/28/2016 |
| Series: | Rat Pack Series , #10 |
| Edition description: | Large Print |
| Pages: | 304 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.60(h) x 0.90(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
When Somebody Kills You
A Rat Pack Mystery
By Robert J. Randisi
Severn House Publishers Limited
Copyright © 2015 Robert RandisiAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-84751-618-3
CHAPTER 1
November, 1964
'How do you like your new job?' Dean Martin asked.
'I'm not sure.'
'Why not?' Dean flicked some ash from his ever-present cigarette into a glass ashtray on the bar.
'Well, look at me,' I said. 'It's the middle of the day and I'm sittin' at the bar in the lounge not doin' anythin'.'
'And getting paid for it,' Dino pointed out. 'Sounds like a cushy gig to me.'
'You work harder than anybody I know,' I said. 'This would drive you crazy.'
'No,' he said, with a grin, 'it would drive me to the golf course – which, by the way, is where I'm headed.'
Dean Martin was one of the few golfers I knew who wasn't out on the links and ready to play at six a.m. That was because when you're Dean Martin you can get any old tee time you want.
He was dressed in his golf clothes – a striped, collared polo shirt, white pants and shoes, all of which cost more than my mortgage payment for the month.
Dean had played the Sands in January, with Francis Brunn, the German juggler, opening for him. He'd made a bet with a friend that Brunn wouldn't make one mistake on stage. Although the German never dropped anything, he did make a minor flub. The audience didn't catch it, but Dino's buddy did. And so Dean had to get his friend some time on the golf course, and this week was the first opportunity they had to get together to honor his wager. Dean would be playing the Sands on November twenty-third – with the Half Brothers – so coming in a few days early had been no hardship. Golfers were notorious for paying off their bets. He'd be going home to spend Thanksgiving with Jeannie and the kids after his show.
'So tell Jack you don't like the job,' Dean said. 'You want to go back in the pit.'
'Ah, I can't do that,' I said. 'He thinks of this as a promotion, a reward. Not takin' it would be a slap in the face. Besides, I'm not sayin' I don't like it. I'm just sayin' I'm kind of antsy just sittin' here.'
'Well, I gotta go,' he said, finishing his coffee and setting the cup down on the bar. 'We on for dinner tonight?'
'We are,' I said. 'I'll come to your suite to pick you up, say, eight.'
'See you then, pally.' He slapped me on the back and headed for the door. All eyes followed him until he was gone, and then they looked at me, probably wondering how I rated having a drink with Dean Martin.
I vaguely heard a phone ring, and then somebody poked me in the arm. 'Yeah?'
'It's for you, Eddie,' the bartender said, holding the receiver out. 'It's the boss.'
'Thanks.' I took the phone. 'Jack?'
'Where the hell are you?' Jack Entratter barked.
'At the bar,' I said. 'You called me here.'
'I didn't give you this new job because of your good looks, you know,' he said. 'And I don't pay you to sit at the bar.'
'Whoa, whoa, hold your horses. What's this about?'
I heard Jack take a long breath.
'OK,' he said. 'I'm sorry I bit your head off. We've got a major whale in the house today. He just checked in, and already he's got my goat. I hate the guy, but he drops a lot of money here.'
'Harry Bennett?'
'That's the scumbag.'
That much was true. Bennett was a scumbag, but he was a rich scumbag. And for some reason he looked down his nose at Jack.
'You have to deal with him, Eddie,' Jack said, 'or I'll kill him.'
'OK, Jack,' I said, 'I'll deal with him.'
'Thank you,' he said, and hung up.
'Trouble?' the bartender asked.
I handed him the phone and said, 'Yeah, but the best kind. The millionaire kind.'
'Wish I had that kind of trouble,' he said.
I just nodded, said, 'Thanks,' and left the lounge.
Harry Bennett answered his door and exclaimed, 'Hey, Jack Entratter's favorite pit boss.' He was holding a towel, wearing a white T-shirt and boxers, and his hair was wet.
'Not a pit boss anymore, Mr Bennett,' I said. 'I've got a new job now.'
'Oh yeah? What's that?'
'He's calling me a casino host,' I said. 'It's my job to get you and other guests playin' what they want.'
'Well, then, get your ass in here and we'll start workin' on that.'
I followed him, closing the door behind me. He had one of the big suites, like the ones Frank and Dean rated.
Bennett was in his fifties, thick around the middle – and in the head about most things, except his business. He was in real estate and knew his stuff. He lived in Boston, bought and sold up and down the East Coast. He came to Vegas several times a year to drop a couple of mil, most of it at the Sands.
'Make me a drink, will ya? Bourbon rocks. I'm gonna finish washin' up.'
'Comin' up.'
I got behind the bar and fixed him his drink. When he came back into the room, his hair was combed and he was wearing a button-down blue shirt and black slacks.
'Thanks,' he said, grabbing the drink from the bar. 'How about you?'
'Too early.'
'For Vegas?'
'I stay up late,' I said. 'I start drinkin' now, I'll be drunk by lunch.'
'Drunk by lunch sounds good to me.'
'Is there anythin' else I can get you?'
'Not right now, Eddie,' Bennett said. 'I'm gonna drift a while, try my luck at some tables, but later I'll be lookin' for a big game – and a woman.'
'I can help you with both, Mr Bennett.'
'Good lad. I'll be in the Garden Room for dinner at seven. Check with me then. For now, I wanna be on my own.'
'You got it, sir.' I came around the bar and headed for the door.
'By the way,' Bennett said, 'will I be seein' Jack while I'm here?'
'I'm sure you will, Mr Bennett,' I said, and then thought, unless he sees you first.
CHAPTER 2I had a dinner appointment with Dean at eight, so there was no trouble meeting Bennett in the Garden Room. He told me he was very satisfied with the action he had found that day, but he'd like a private game the next night. I told him I'd set it up. Then he said he also wanted a blonde, and I said I'd set that up, too.
I was in front of Dino's door at seven fifty-five, and knocked.
'Come on in, pally,' he said, 'I'm on the phone.'
I nodded and entered the room while he hurried back to his call. He picked up the receiver and pointed at the bar.
'Yes, Jeannie,' he said, 'I paid back the bet and was all set to come home tomorrow when Frank called. He wants me to hang around because he's coming to town ... No, he's not performing ... No, I don't know why ... Yes, I'll let you know. Give the girls my love.'
By the time he hung up, I was behind the bar with a short bourbon – my first of the day.
'You ready for dinner?' he asked.
'I am,' I said. 'What about you?'
'A tie and a jacket and I'm all set.'
'What's this about Frank comin' to town?'
'He wanted me to tell you,' he said, heading for the bedroom. 'I'll do that at dinner!'
As usual, Dean had a car waiting out front. When we had dinner away from the Sands and off the strip, it was usually at the Bootlegger, an Italian place that Frank had introduced us to.
We were seated, got drinks and ordered before Dean brought up Frank again.
'Frank's comin' in tomorrow,' he said. 'He's got somethin' he wants to talk to you about.'
'Me?'
'That's right,' Dean said. 'And he asked me to stick around, said I might be interested, too.'
'Any idea what it is?'
'None,' Dean said. 'He was mum on the subject, said he'd tell us when he sees us.'
The waiter came over with the antipasto platter we'd ordered as an appetizer. I didn't like everything on it – the mushrooms and anchovies – but I attacked the meats, cheeses and olives. Dino, on the other hand, took a little bit of everything, including the artichoke hearts, something else I skipped.
We talked shop – his and mine. He talked about his last gig, his next one, and I mentioned Harry Bennett coming to town.
'He's an asshole, isn't he?' Dean asked. 'Doesn't Jack hate him?'
'He does. That's why I'm handling him.'
'Ah, as part of your new job.'
'Right.'
We finished off the antipasto in time for our main courses – lasagna for me, linguine with clams for Dino.
'So how do you like bein' a – what's Jack callin' you?'
'A casino host.'
'Doesn't have the same ring to it as pit boss, does it?'
'No, it doesn't,' I said.
'Well,' Dino suggested, 'do the job for a few weeks, then tell Jack you want back in the pit.'
'Yeah, maybe,' I said. 'We'll have to see how it goes. If I start feelin' like a pimp, that's just what I'll do.'
We finished off our meal with coffee and Italian pastries. After that we walked outside, where the car was waiting. It was parked across the street, with the driver, Andy, behind the wheel. Dean stopped to light a cigarette, so I started across the street. I heard rubber squeal and turned to see headlights bearing down on me. I thought I was a goner when something hit me in the lower back and I went flying. The car missed me, but not by much.
Andy got out of the car and rushed over to me. 'You guys all right?'
That's when I realized Dean had saved my bacon. He'd tackled me from behind, knocking me out of the path of the car.
'You OK, Dean?' I asked. He was lying on the ground next to me.
'I'm good,' he said, pushing himself up to a seated positon. 'You?'
'I think I'm OK,' I said, sitting up and taking stock. 'That was a great tackle. Somebody'd think you played football when you were younger, instead of boxing.'
'Let's get out of the street,' Dean suggested, 'before somebody tries to run you down again.'
'What do you mean, "tries"?' I asked as we got up.
'That was no accident,' Dean said.
'What?'
'That guy deliberately tried to run you down, Eddie. You seein' somebody's wife?'
'Not this week.'
We got into the back seat and Andy pulled the car away from the curb.
'Police?' he asked.
'No,' I said, leaning forward, 'back to the Sands.'
'But if Mr Martin is right —'
'I'm not sure that he is,' I said, cutting him off. 'Back to the Sands, Andy.'
'You're the boss, Eddie.'
I sat back.
'Eddie,' Dean said, 'I swear that guy was purposely headin' right for you.'
'But why?' I asked. 'I haven't pissed anybody off all month. It's more likely they were tryin' for you, Dino.'
'Not me,' Dean said. 'I was on the sidewalk lightin' a cigarette.'
'Maybe they got us mixed up.'
'Uh-uh,' he said. 'I'm taller, and a lot better lookin'.'
'I'm not gonna argue with you on that,' I said, 'but I can't see why anybody would want to run me down.'
'Come on, Eddie,' Dean said, 'you must've made some enemies in the past.'
'The only time I seem to get in trouble,' I said, 'is when I'm tryin' to help you guys out. The last time was earlier in the year when Eddie Robinson was here.'
'Maybe Bennett?' he asked.
'I haven't done anythin' to piss him off ... yet.'
'Well,' he said, 'just to be on the safe side, you better watch your back.'
'I will.'
'And while I'm in town,' he said, slapping me on the back, 'so will I.'
CHAPTER 3I drove home to my house in the Caddy, made a pot of coffee and sat in the living room, thinking about what had happened. I hadn't seen the car until I heard the tires squeal and saw the headlights. So how could I say that Dean was wrong? He'd obviously seen more than I had, but if I admitted he was right, then I had to ask myself who wanted me dead, and why?
When I woke the next morning, I stopped at a local diner for breakfast before driving to the Sands. Frank was due after three. The Sands would send a car for him, so there was nothing for me to do until he got there.
I went to the Garden Room for a second cup of coffee. My job as a casino host required only that I be on the premises, and my hours exceeded the ones I worked as a pit boss. As far as I was concerned, seated in the Garden Room with a cup of coffee, I was at work.
Over a third cup I decided that the incident the night before had been an accident. I didn't have much choice. There was nobody I knew who was mad enough to try to kill me. And I'd given the matter enough of my time.
I asked the waitress to bring a phone over and I started making calls to get Harry Bennett his game, and his blonde.
I had just hung up the phone on the last player when Jack Entratter walked in. Resplendent as ever in one of his suits, tailored so his big shoulders wouldn't quite bust the seams, he spotted me, came over and slid into the booth across from me. A waitress appeared immediately with a cup of coffee for him, and another for me.
'I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday,' he said, grudgingly. 'That guy gets my goat.'
'I know,' I said. 'He wanted to know if he was going to see you while he was here.'
'What did you tell him?'
'Not if you saw him first.'
'What? I never —'
'Relax,' I said, 'I only thought that. I told him I was sure he'd see you.'
'Oh, well, OK. So, what's he want so far?'
'Just a private game and an even more private blonde,' I said.
'Eddie,' he said, 'you're not a pimp —'
'It doesn't matter. The girl will make a pretty penny and won't kick any back to me.'
'Not much of a pimp, then, are you?'
'I don't have the flair.'
'Did you hear that Frank's comin' in today?'
'I heard from Dean,' I said. 'He's stayin' around to see him.'
'Any idea what it's about? Frank ain't playin' here for a while.'
'I've got no idea,' I said, 'but I'm sure he'll clue me in when he gets here.'
'I got a car pickin' him up at McCarran at three thirty,' Jack said. 'Anythin' else goin' on?'
I decided not to tell him about the car the night before. After all, if I was accepting it as an accident, what was there to tell? 'No, nothin',' I said. 'It's quiet.'
'Too quiet,' Jack said. 'But maybe with Bennett here, and Frank arrivin' today, that might change.'
'But not too much, I hope,' I said.
My Caddy was in the rear parking lot that day, because I didn't expect to have to use it until I went home. But it turned out one of the players I'd lined up for Harry Bennett backed out, and I needed to find another one fast. I had a guy in mind, but he wasn't answering his phone.
I used a house phone in the lobby to call Jack's office. His new girl put me right through. She was the second one since his long-time secretary had been killed earlier in the year.
'Jack, I've got to go off the premises for a while,' I said. 'I need to hunt down my last player for Bennett's game.'
'Don't forget Frank's gettin' in at three thirty. He'll be in his room by four.'
'I'll be back by then,' I said, checking my watch. 'I've got an hour and a half.'
'OK, Eddie,' Jack said, 'but make it fast.'
'You got it.'
I hung up and went out the back way. I had the door open and was about to get in when somebody took a shot at me.
Not so quiet anymore.
CHAPTER 4'One shot?'
'Do you need more?'
Jack rubbed his jaw. 'Why didn't you tell me about the car this mornin'?'
'I didn't think it was important,' I said. 'I thought it was just an accident.'
'Still could've been,' Jack said, 'but a shot – that's somethin' different. What've you been up to lately?'
'Nothin',' I said. 'My new job keeps me so busy I've been behavin' myself.'
'OK, next question. What about contacting the police?'
'Who do you suggest I call?' I asked. 'Hargrove?'
'There are other cops.'
'The story would get back to him,' I said, 'and he'd love it.'
'So what do you intend to do?' he asked.
'I don't know. For now, I've still got to find another player for Bennett's game.'
'Well,' Jack said, 'do it from the premises. I don't want you out and about, where somebody can try again.'
'I can't stay here forever,' I said. 'I've got to go home sometime.'
'Maybe we need to get you a bodyguard.'
'I don't want some gunsel followin' me around.'
'How about your buddy, Bardini?'
Now I rubbed my jaw. 'That's an idea.'
'Good,' Jack said, 'then call him.'
'I will,' I said, standing up, 'after I get Bennett's fifth for poker – and I'll do that after a good stiff drink.'
'You can have that here.'
'I'll have it downstairs, and use the phone at the bar.'
'Well, be careful, Eddie,' Jack said. 'Watch your back – and don't go outside.'
'I won't,' I said. 'Not today, anyway.'
I grabbed a stool at the Silver Queen Lounge, ordered a bourbon and asked the bartender for the phone. I still had an hour before Frank arrived.
I tried my poker player again and, thankfully, got him. With the game set, I called Danny Bardini's office.
'Bardini Investigations,' Danny said.
'Answerin' your own phone?'
(Continues...)
Excerpted from When Somebody Kills You by Robert J. Randisi. Copyright © 2015 Robert Randisi. Excerpted by permission of Severn House Publishers Limited.
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