Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime

Forty-four

When I got down to the casino floor in front of the lounge the police had Jerry Epstein in handcuffs. Two uniformed officers were flanking him, while Detectives Hargrove and Smith were fronting him.

When Hargrove saw me coming he turned my way and smiled. “Just the man I wanted to see,” he said. “We were comin’ to look for you next.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Why do you have this man handcuffed?”

“Well, Mr. Gianelli,” Hargrove said, “he’s under arrest.”

“For what?”

“Suspicion of murder.”

I looked at Jerry, who stared back at me with no expression. Just for a second I thought he gave me a head shake. Don’t say anything, he was warning me.

“Who is he supposed to have murdered?”

“A coupla guys in a flophouse off the strip,” Smith said. “Maybe you heard of them? Anthony ‘Buzzy’ Ravisi and Lenny Davis? They pretty much ran in your circle.”

I looked at Smith for a moment and held my tongue, even though I knew what he meant. I didn’t know how long he’d been a detectivebut there was a time when, even though he was a police officer, he would not have been permitted to make an arrest because he was a Negro. Things were changing, but not that much. I didn’t know if he was looking down his nose at me and my Italian ancestry or if he was just an asshole.

“Forgive me, Detective, but you don’t know what circle I run in. And I don’t know what circles these men ran in.”

“Pretty much the same as this joker here,” Hargrove said. “You got imported New York muscle workin’ for you, and you expect us to believe you don’t run with the same company?”

“Jerry doesn’t work for me, Detective,” I said.

“Then what’s he doin’ here?”

I could feel Jerry’s eyes on me, waiting to see if I was going to give Frank Sinatra up. I can’t say I wouldn’t have, if the cuffs had been on me, but I knew he’d cut out his tongue before he spoke Frank’s name. Or Mo Mo Giancana’s, for that matter.

“He’s gambling, as far as I know. Spent some time playing horses yesterday.”

“That’s not all he did, yesterday.”

Hargrove turned and put his hand out. One of the uniforms handed him Jerry’s.45, holding it by the trigger guard.

“He killed two people with this gun.”

Well, I knew that wasn’t true. Jerry had killed one man with that gun.

“Once I prove it, he’ll be up for murder, and you,” he said, “will probably be locked up as an accessory.”

“Accessory?”

“That’s what we call people who are present when someone is murdered,” he explained, “and who help the murderer.”

“Detective,” I said, “I really think you’ve got the wrong guys-”

“We’ll see,” he replied, “once our witness gets a look at the two of you.”

“Are you takin’ me in?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Hargrove said. “First we’ll have him ID Big Jerry, here. Once that’s done, we’ll have you in for a lineup. Meanwhile,don’t even think about leavin’ town. That would sort of be the same as a confession, don’t you think?”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Detective,” I assured him, with much more confidence than I was feeling at the moment. “I’m not guilty of anything.” There you go, I thought, a bold-faced lie.

“We’ll see about that.” he turned to the two cops holding onto Jerry. “Take him out.”

“Jerry,” I said, “the Sands will get a lawyer for you.”

“I’m not worried,” Jerry said to me. “I’ll be out before the end of the day.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Hargrove said. “Get him out of here.”

“Detective,” a voice behind me said.

I turned and saw Jack Entratter standing there. He’d straightened his suit and combed his hair, and he looked calm and collected. Still looked like he was going to burst out of his clothes, though.

“Mr. Entratter.”

“Can we talk? Privately?”

“Sure.”

I don’t know what surprised me more, that they knew each other, or that Hargrove was so willing to talk to Jack.

He took the Detective into the lounge, up to the bar where they could both sit on stools. I turned and looked at Jerry. The two cops had started to hustle him away, but now they were waiting for further instructions.

“What are you waiting for?” Detective Smith demanded. “Get him out of here!”

Both of the cops were white and they simply stared at Smith and didn’t move. They were obviously going to take their cue from Hargrove.

Smith turned and glared at me. He seemed angry that I had witnessed the lack of respect he commanded from the white cops. Not my problem, I thought, and looked away.

The conversation between Entratter and Hargrove was fairly animated, went on for a few minutes, and did not turn out the way I expected. I figured with Jack being all calm and charming he’d get hisway, even if he had to pull out Frank Costello’s name to do it. However, when they came back Jack was not looking happy.

“Let’s go,” Hargrove said to the cops.

“Uh, are we takin’ him in?” one of them asked.

“Of course we’re taking him in,” Hargrove said. He turned to Entratter. “Have your lawyer ask for me.”

“I’ll do that, Detective.”

Hargrove gave me a look, then turned and followed the other cops out. Jerry went along as meek as a kitten.

“He’s fucked,” I said to Jack. “When they run that gun he’s screwed, and so am I.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Entratter looked at me.

“That’s not the same gun.”

“What?” I asked. “How do you know?”

He smiled and said, “Because he got rid of it. I got him one just like it.”