Authors: Robert J. Randisi

Tags: #Suspense

Fly Me to the Morgue (19 page)

BOOK: Fly Me to the Morgue

12.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

On the lobby directory he was listed as
Philip Arnold Consultants
. Adrienne had said his business was investments.

We waited for the elevator, stepped aside when it arrived to allow three men in suits to exit. They didn't look like accountants or lawyers. I had a feeling that while the building might be in a better neighborhood than Eric Arnold's was, the clientele was not much better. We got in and rode to the 3
^rdfloor.

âThis is a good floor,' Jerry said.

âWhy's that?'

âIf I have to hang him from the window by the ankles it's high enough to scare him, but low enough that he might survive if I accidentally drop him.'

We found his door and entered. He had a reception area, but there was no receptionist. That was probably good, because if she had been there she might have been underneath the overturned desk.

âI had a bad feelin' when those guys left the elevator,' Jerry said.

I nodded. We approached the closed door of Arnold's office, wondering if we were going to find another dead member of the family.

As we entered, we saw that he wasn't dead, but he was definitely the worse for wear.

âWhatayou want?' he demanded from behind his desk. He was holding a washcloth to his bruised and battered face.

âI think we ran into your friends in the lobby,' I said. âThree guys with bad-fitting suits?'

He probed his mouth and said around his big hand, âI think they loosened some teeth.'

âWhy didn't you show them your muscles?' Jerry asked.

âOr sic your muscle buddies on them?'

âWhat the hell do you guys want?' he demanded. He opened a drawer and took out a bottle of scotch and a glass.

âNo, thanks,' I said.

He ignored me, poured himself a drink, sipped it and then hissed as the liquor hit his sore lips and gums.

âWe just came from seeing Eric,' I said.

âOh yeah? What'd that pussy tell you?'

âHe was very talkative,' I said. âBut I hope your friends didn't get all that you have to give already. Jerry would be really upset if you had nothing left for us.'

âAdrienne send you?' he asked, giving Jerry a wary look.

âWe're working on her behalf,' I said.

âYou guys ain't cops, and you ain't private detectives. Whataya want?'

âWe'd like to know who killed your brother Chris,' I said, âand who took some shots at us today out in Red Rock.'

âWell, for the first question, I don't know,' he said, âand for the second, probably somebody who don't like you.'

âAnd that would beÂ .Â .Â . you?' I asked.

Phil Arnold laughed, then hissed.

âDon't make me laugh,' he said. âIt hurts. You guys think I sent a shooter after you? I ain't got that kind of juice.'

âBalls,' Jerry said.

âWhat?'

âYou ain't got that kinda balls.'

âSo yeah,' Arnold said, with a shrug, âmaybe I ain't.' He poured himself some more scotch, sipped it carefully. His suit was disheveled, and there was blood on his white collar. âBut I also wouldn't have any reason to.'

There were two overturned chairs on the floor. We righted them and sat down.

âSo who were the guys who roughed you up, Phil?' I asked. âCollectin' on a bad debt, or do they work for Vinnie DeStefano?'

He was in the act of lifting the glass to his mouth, and stopped short to give me a sharp look.

âWhere'd you hear that name?'

âWe heard you're in business with him,' I said. âWe also heard that your brother keeps your phony books. But you don't trust him enough to let him keep the real ones.'

âI don't trust him to know enough to stay out of the rain. The fact that you bozos are here tells me I'm right. He can't keep his damn mouth shut.'

âWell, don't blame him too much,' I said. âIt was kinda hard for him to keep quiet with Jerry standin' on his chest.'

âYou wanna see?' Jerry asked, with a smile.

âHey, fellas,' he said, âI been worked over enough for one day, don't you think?'

âNot by me,' Jerry said.

âLook,' he said, âwhy don't we have a drink and talk about it, huh?'

âSure, Phil,' I said, âlet's have a drink.'

âI got some glasses in the john,' he said. âAnd I need to wash my face.' He pointed to the bathroom door.

âGo ahead.'

He got up, opened the door and went in. We heard the water turn on, and runÂ .Â .Â . and runÂ .Â .Â . and runÂ .Â .Â .

âCrap!' I said, springing out of my chair.

It was a bathroom, all right, with another door that led to a back hallway. I ran out, looked both ways, listened for his footsteps, but he was gone.

FIFTY-ONE

âI wonder why he didn't do that with the other three?' Jerry asked.

âMaybe they were too smart to let him go to the john,' I said, glumly.

âWell,' Jerry said, âwe might as well go through this place.'

âYeah, why not?'

As we tossed the place, not bothering to be neat because it was already in a shambles, Jerry said, âLook on the bright side, Mr G.'

âWhere's that, Jerry?'

âIt's pretty clear he ain't got the balls to be behind his brother's murder.'

âThat's clear to you?'

âWell, clear to me that he didn't do it,' he said. âAnd clear that he don't have the juice to order it but sure didn't do nothin' to stop it, I bet.'

I went through the file cabinet while Jerry went through the desk, but I stopped, frustrated.

âI'll bet all this stuff is fake, to match his fake books,' I said.

âSo what do you wanna do?'

I couldn't believe I was saying it, and not Jerry.

âI wanna get somethin' to eat.'

âNo argument from me.'

I gave Jerry directions to a nearby diner that always reminded me of the Greek diners of my youth in Brooklyn. I figured he'd like it. I ordered a pizza burger platter and he ordered meat loaf with lots of brown gravy on the meat and fries. âWet fries' we called them when I lived in Brooklyn.

âAre we gonna go lookin' for him again, Mr G?' Jerry asked.

âNope,' I said.

âWhy not?'

âSeems to me he's on the verge of becomin' the next victim,' I said.

âTell you the truth, Mr G., I don't think that would break me up none.'

âNo, me neither, I guess.'

He popped a handful of dripping wet fries into his mouth.

âSo DeStefano is our next move,' I said. âWe've got to find out who he is, what he's got to do with the Arnold family, or this horse.'

âYou want me to make some calls?' he asked.

âYeah,' I said, âand I'll talk to Jack Entratter, see what he knows.'

âMaybe you should ask his girl, too.'

âYeah, maybe I should.'

âI wonder how the dick did today?' he said.

âI don't know,' I said. âBetter than us, I hope.'

âAw, Mr G., we didn't do so bad. We figured out these two brothers are limp dicks who couldn't swat a fly. But maybe somebody they got involved with killed their brother.'

I stared at him.

âOne of these days,' I said, âyou're gonna let somebody see how smart you really areÂ .Â .Â . I just hope it's me.'

He flashed a grin at me, brown gravy at the corners of it.

FIFTY-TWO

We went back to the Sands. Jerry went to his room to make some calls. I went to Jack Entratter's office. He wasn't there.

âHe's on the casino floor,' his girl said. âSomebody was cheating.'

âWhere?' I hoped it wasn't any of my tables. If I'd been in the pit I would have noticed it.

âI'm not sure, Mr Gianelli.'

I searched my memory. That was probably the only time she'd ever called me by name. It was progress. I didn't want to push it.

âOK, thanks.'

I took the elevator back down, crossed the hotel lobby and entered the casino, looking for Jack.

I found him, but not near the tables, where I thought I would.

âJack,' I said, âwhat are you doin'?'

âHear that?'

I listened. One of the slot machines was paying off, nickels pinging off the metal tray.

âThat's the fifth jackpot today,' he said. âSame machine. I'm tryin' to figure out how she's doin' it.'

The âshe' was a seventy-year-old, gray-haired grandmother who was happily scooping the nickels out of the tray and dumping them in her purse, which was almost as big as a suitcase.

âFive jackpots?' I asked.

He nodded.

âShe's gonna need help carrying them out.'

âI'll help her,' he growled.

âWhat are you gonna do, kneecap her?'

He gave me a dirty look.

âWhat are you doin' here? Are you in trouble?'

âNo,' I said, âbut I'm still workin' on Bing's problem.'

âFrank came in today,' he said. âYou got your tickets for tonight?'

âYeah, I got 'em.'

âGood, 'cause I don't wanna disappoint him.'

âYou goin'?'

âYou know I don't go to shows in other places.'

âYeah, but you're goin' to this one, right?'

He frowned, like he was in pain, and said, âYeah.'

âOK, look,' I said, âforget about grandma for a minute. I got a question.'

âGo ahead, ask.' He folded his arms and kept his eyes on the old lady, but he was listening.

âYou ever heard of a guy named Vincent DeStefano?'

He forgot about the grandma and looked at me.

âWhere did you hear that name?'

âCame across it today.'

âIn relation to what?'

âThe murder of the horse guy out in Red Rock Canyon. Why, you know 'im?'

âI need a drink,' he said. âCome on.'

He gave the slot machine lady one last look, then turned to head for the lounge. At that moment she hit again and he hunched his shoulders as the nickels started pouring out.

We got seated at a table in the lounge. It was late afternoon and starting to get busy. Didi dispensed with the dirty looks because I was with Jack. We both ordered bourbon.

âOK,' he said, âlisten up. You gotta stay away from Vince DeStefano.'

âWhy?'

âWell, I'd tell you because I said so, but I don't think that would do itÂ .Â .Â . would it?' He gave me a hopeful look.

âNo.'

âI didn't think so.'

Didi came with our drinks. We leaned back and let her put them on the table.

âThanks, doll,' Jack said.

âSure, Mr Entratter.'

âShe's cute,' he said, watching her walk away. âYou should try tappin' that.'

I stared at him.

âYou already did,' he said. âWhy do I even talk?'

âDeStefano, Jack,' I said, sipping my drink.

âDamn it, Eddie, how do you get yourself into these situations?'

âExcuse me, Jack,' I said, âbut most of the time I'm mindin' my own business in my pit and
you
get me involved in these situations.'

âYeah, yeah,' he said, rubbing his face with his left hand and picking up his drink with his right. âOK, tell me how you got on to DeStefanoÂ .Â .Â .'

FIFTY-THREE

He listened, working slowly on his drink as I told him what Jerry and I had done that day.

âBut he didn't hang anybody from a window, or kill anybody?'

âNo, Jack,' I said, âbut I think you missed the point of my little tale. Somebody tried to kill
us
. And I think it's connected to Vince DeStefano.'

âLook,' he said, âI appreciate your dilemma, I do. But you gotta stay away from DeStefano.'

âYou still haven't told me why.'

âBecause he'll kill you, that's why. Just as soon as look at you, he'll kill you. And Jerry. And Bardini, if you get him involved. And his girl, what's her name?'

âPenny.'

âYeah, Penny, her too.'

I finished my drink and put the glass down hard.

âJack, you can't expect to drop a bomb like that on me and then just stop.'

âKid,' he said, âyou been up against it a few times in the past few years, and I'll give it to you, you come out the other end. But this guyÂ .Â .Â . even Mo Mo don't wanna mess with him.'

Jesus, I thought to myself.

âJack, why don't I know this guy's name? How long's he been in Vegas?'

âJust a year or two.'

âHow'd he get in here so quiet?'

âMo Mo sent him in here, set 'im up on the quiet.'

âBut if Mo Mo's afraid of himâ'

âJesus, kid, I didn't say that!' he told me, sharply. âI never said that. All I said was that Mo Mo didn't wanna mess with him. And he don't. So he sent him here before he had to kill him.'

âOr before he killed Mo Mo, right?'

âLet's just say before he could try.'

âWhat's a connected guy like DeStefano doin' messin' with these morons?'

âI don't know,' he said. âAnd I don't wanna ask him.'

âWell,' I said, âI do.'

âEddieâ'

âJack, damn it,' I complained, âyou're tying my hands.'

BOOK: Fly Me to the Morgue

12.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads