It Was a Very Bad Year

FORTY-FIVE

Frank’s plane was a Martin 404. It had been introduced in 1962, had a cruising speed of 280 mph, and a high speed of 312 mph. I knew all that because Frank told us the night before.

The 404 was a small business plane that Frank used often, and loaned out to his friends. I knew that Dean used it to fly to concerts and business meetings. He had also loaned it on occasion to every other member of the group.

We met in the lobby at seven a.m. and took two cars to the airport. The plane was gassed up and ready to go, props already turning. Raggio stayed behind. The lawyer, Rudin, was with us, and two FBI agents — my hero one of them. So that made seven of us.

We followed Frank up the airstair and inside. We hadn’t stopped for breakfast, or even coffee, but Frank had us served coffee and bagels on board. I wondered if Jerry was getting the same treatment on the plane Frank had sent for him. The pilot had been told to operate at high speed. We’d be in LA within the hour.

The flight was pretty quiet. I didn’t have a chance to talk with Jack about the night before. I didn’t know yet if either one of us was even going to mention it to Frank. Certainly not in front of the FBI agents.

Rudin led us off the plane at the other end. The District Attorney was waiting for us, along with some local cops and two more FBI agents. He and Rudin shook hands, seemed to know each other, Rudin then introduced him to Frank. The rest of us didn’t rate.

There were two cars waiting for us, and Jerry was standing beside one of them. I walked over to join him while Rudin and the DA talked.

‘Hey, Mr G.’

‘Hey, Jerry. Been here long?’

‘About fifteen minutes,’ the big guy said. ‘I’m starvin’.’

‘Have anything on the plane?’

‘Some coffee and donuts,’ Jerry said. ‘’Bout a dozen.’

‘You ate them all?’

‘I had a longer flight than you.’

‘Good point.’

‘I’m still hungry, though.’

‘We’ll get something.’

‘Where are we goin’?’

‘Mrs Sinatra’s house in Bel-Air.’

‘The ex?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Guess she must be worried.’

‘Out of her mind.’

Entratter and Jilly walked over to us and said, ‘We’re in this car.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘You guys know Jerry, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Entratter said. ‘Hello, Jerry.’

‘Mr Entratter,’ Jerry said. ‘Hello, Mr Rizzo.’

‘Hey, Jerry. How you doin’?’

‘Good. Hungry.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘We’ll eat when we get to Nancy’s house,’ Entratter said. He looked at the driver. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Yessir.’

We piled into the car, which, thankfully, had enough room for the three of us and Jerry. Oddly, Jerry was able to somehow make himself smaller and take up only a corner. I never knew how he did it, but the big boy rarely seemed to intrude. His size never became an issue when he was with friends.

‘Eddie, I told Jilly what happened last night between you and Raggio.’

‘OK.’

‘What happened?’ Jerry asked.

I told him.

‘Jilly and I feel it’s better if we don’t tell Frank,’ Jack said, after I was finished.

‘Makes sense,’ I said. ‘Why give him something else to worry about?’

‘Right,’ Jilly said.

‘And I made some calls,’ Jack said to me. ‘I think I made sure the local DA will stay off your back.’

‘That would be good.’

‘Rudin and the DA — Evans is his name — are tight. They play poker together. So we kept him out of it.’

‘Again,’ I said, ‘makes sense.’

‘OK,’ Jack said, looking at me, Jerry and then Jilly, ‘so we don’t mention this at all while we’re in Nancy’s house.’

We all agreed.

‘What are we gonna eat when we get there?’ Jerry asked.

Jilly laughed and said, ‘Don’t worry, Jerry. Whatever it is, you’ll get enough.’