Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime

Forty

Jerry liked my Caddy so much that I’d let him drive again. He’d gotten directions to the shoot, so I didn’t pay attention while he drove. Now that we were outside I suddenly realized where we were.

“Oh,” I said, “this is bad.”

“What?” he asked. “What’s bad?”

“That’s Industrial Road,” I said, pointing.

“So?”

“Get in the car. You drive.”

We got in and he started the engine.

“Drive around the building.”

He did as I asked, circling the building until I said stop.

“Look familiar?” I asked.

“No.”

“Look around.”

He did, craning his neck. I watched the expression on his face, which was usually pretty blank. In the short time since we’d met we’d spent a lot of time together. I was able to tell when he realized something was wrong.

“I get it.”

“That trash bin over there,” I said. “That’s where we found Mike Boracco.”

We could still see the flash of red from the piece of Boracco’s shirt that had gotten torn off.

“Okay,” I said, “get us out of here.”

“Where to?”

“Binion’s,” I said. “Let’s go to Binion’s. They’ve got a killer coffee shop and I have to think.”

I gave him directions.

When we got to the Horseshoe, Jerry remembered that was where he’d had the two dozen pancakes.

“They were good.”

“Have some more,” I suggested, even though we already had breakfast.

“I think I will.”

He ordered the pancakes and I ordered a turkey sandwich on toast with fries. We shared a booth-well, actually, we didn’t share it. He took up two thirds of it.

“So what’s it mean?” he asked.

“You’re not as dumb as you seem, remember?” I asked.

He smiled again, only the second time since I’d met him.

“Everything is connected.”

“I don’t know how it got that way,” I said, “but yeah, everything is connected. Look, sit tight. I’m gonna call Danny Bardini and have him join us. He can walk here from his office.”

“Fine with me,” he said. “I hate cops, but I got nothin’ against P.I.’s. They’re workin’ stiffs, just like the rest of us.”

I left him there with the waitress pouring us each coffee and went to the pay phone. The coffee shop was on the lower level, underneath the casino, so there was no noise in or around the booth. I got Penny, who put me through to Danny, who said he’d be right over as long as I was buying.

When I got back to the booth Jerry had already started on his pancakes, and my sandwich was waiting for me.

“Get ’im?” he asked around a mouthful.

“He’ll be here in a minute.”

“You go back a way with him?”

“His brother was my best friend in Brooklyn, when we were growing up.”

“That’s a long ways,” he said. “I got nobody from when I was a kid. Everybody’s gone.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Maybe.”

Jerry still had a dozen to go when Danny arrived. He used his detective skills and immediately deduced that he couldn’t fit into the booth, so he pulled a chair over and sat on the outside.

“You guys already met,” I said.

“Yeah,” Danny said. “This mornin’ at the Sands. How are ya?”

Jerry nodded.

The waitress came over and Danny ordered a burger platter. “What’s up?”

I told him about going to the Ocean’s 11 set and then finding out that it was inside the warehouse where we’d found Mike Borraco.

“So everything is connected,” he said.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Unless it’s just a coincidence.”

“Borraco just happens to ask me to meet him outside the building that houses Ocean’s Eleven? I don’t think so.”

“How much of the movie is being shot here?”

“They’re supposed to shoot for eleven days. This is day three, I think. Then they go back to Hollywood to finish.”

“So if Dean Martin makes it through the next eight days he should be okay. Or, at least, out of Las Vegas. Did he receive any threats before he arrived?”

“No,” I said, “only here.”

“So something’s gonna happen in the next eight days,” Danny said.

“Unless they’re just threats,” Jerry said.

“Well,” Danny replied, “the fact that two guys worked Eddie over would make it more than just threats, I think.”

Jerry eyed Danny carefully, I had not told him that I’d filled Danny in on the whole story, and that Danny knew he’d killed BuzzRavisi. But now Jerry knew how far back Danny and I went, he could probably guess. I wondered if I’d just put Danny in a bad spot. I trusted him, but why should Jerry?

“You got a point,” Jerry said, and went back to his last half-dozen pancakes.

The waitress brought Danny his burger platter. It would have made any Brooklyn diner proud. Burger, bun, lettuce, tomato, red onion and large pickle slices. And fries. Danny assembled it all and took a bite.

“I suppose you’re not goin’ to the cops with this information?”

“No,” I said, “no cops.”

“So it’s just the three of us who know, huh?”

“Unless the cops check out that warehouse and find out it’s being used to film a movie.”

“Danny shook his head.

“That wouldn’t get them to the Rat Pack,” he said. “Just to the producers.”

“So okay,” I said, “only the three of us know that all the killings are somehow related to the threats on Dean Martin’s life. And also, maybe, to the filming of Ocean’s Eleven.”

“Now the question remains,” Danny said. “What do we do with this knowledge?”

“You guys are the pros,” I said. “Help me out here. Suggest something.”

Jerry looked at me, jerked his head towards Danny and said, “He’s the P.I. He’s a pro. Me, I’m just muscle sent by Frank to keep you safe.”

“And doin’ a helluva job, from what I hear,” Danny said.

Jerry did not look like he appreciated the compliment.