It Was a Very Bad Year

THIRTY-THREE

During the night — a busy one, since it was a Friday — Entratter came down to the casino floor and showed up at my pit.

‘What kind of a night are we havin’?’ he asked, as I came around to greet him.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘A couple of high rollers came in for the weekend.’

‘Why didn’t I know about ’em?’ he asked, with a frown.

‘It was a spur of the moment thing,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, I made sure they’re staying here. I got them two suites.’

‘Good work. Anything going on with you?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because, Eddie,’ he said, giving me a look, ‘somethin’s always goin’ on with you.’

‘Well, now that you ask. . let’s get a drink.’

We went to the Silver Queen lounge and sat at the bar, eyeing the Allan Stewart mural that ran the length of the wall behind it. It illustrated the history of Vegas from Gold Rush to A-bomb.

It was quiet in the lounge. About an hour ago Jack Jones had wrapped up a set, and while half of that crowd was still there, they were well-behaved, sharp-dressed men with their elegant ladies. That was the kind of crowd Mr Jones attracted.

When we had a beer each I said, ‘I got a visit from Detective Hargrove. He hauled me in for questioning this morning.’

‘What did you do now?’ Entratter asked. ‘Oh, wait. It’s more likely something you and Jerry did while he was here, right?’

‘It ain’t even our fault,’ I said. I told him about going to see Irwin — without telling him exactly why — and how he had some cheap muscle named Wayne there who Jerry had choked out fairly easily.

‘He killed him?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘we left him sleeping on the floor.’

‘And?’

‘Now, a week later, he turns up dead.’

‘What’s that got to do with you?’

‘Hargrove got an anonymous call and somebody dropped my name in his ear.’

‘This Irwin guy?’

‘That’s what I figured.’

‘You go and see him?’

‘He’s gone to ground,’ I said. ‘His studio and home are empty.’

Entratter took a pad and pen from inside his jacket.

‘Gimme his particulars.’

I told him Irwin’s full name, described him, and both his addresses.

‘I’ll see what I can find out.’ He stashed the pad away. ‘You put out the word?’

‘Yeah, and Danny’s keeping his ears open.’

‘That big Jew ain’t here, is he?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘Jerry’s in Brooklyn.’

‘Good. We don’t need him tearin’ through this town.’

‘Jerry’s got more finesse than you’d think, Jack,’ I said.

‘Yeah, sure,’ he said, taking a hit of his beer, then shoving it aside. ‘I’ll catch up with you later.’

I grabbed my beer and gave it a little more attention than he’d given his. A cute waitress came over and flashed me a smile. She was new, and reminded me that I still hadn’t learned the name of the new girl behind the desk in the hotel.

So many pretty girls, so little time.