It Was a Very Bad Year

FORTY-SIX

When we got to Nancy’s house she greeted us politely. Frank hugged her and took her off to talk in private.

‘There’s food in the kitchen,’ she told us.

‘Thank you, Nancy,’ Entratter said.

We went to the kitchen, followed by the two FBI men, but they stopped at the door. The table was covered, buffet style, with plates filled with eggs, bacon, potatoes and — to Jerry’s delight — pancakes.

Entratter, Jilly Rizzo, Jerry and I filled our plates, and then Jack turned to the FBI men and said, ‘Have at it, boys.’

The two men exchanged glances. One of them said, ‘Thank you, sir.’

We stood around eating and after a while the lawyer, Rudin, arrived with the DA and some technicians who were going to wire Nancy’s phone.

‘Is that smart?’ Entratter asked.

‘The kidnappers will expect it,’ Rudin said, ‘unless they’re hopeless amateurs.’

That seemed likely to me, but I didn’t say anything.

The DA and his techs went into the living room to wire the phones. Rudin grabbed a plate and had some breakfast.

‘Where are the girls?’ I asked Entratter.

‘Nancy and Tina are upstairs,’ Jack said. ‘They’re stayin’ out of the way.’

‘Anybody with them?’ I asked. ‘I mean, in case somebody tries to grab them, too?’

‘Frank’s got Ed Pucci and some other bodyguards on ’em,’ Jack said.

I had heard Pucci’s name before, but never met him.

‘I’m glad he’s got them covered.’

‘He’s not about to let one of his girls get grabbed,’ Jilly said. ‘Not after what happened with Frankie.’

The conversation stopped when Frank came into the kitchen.

‘You guys get enough to eat?’ he asked.

‘There’s plenty, Mr S.,’ Jerry said, piling his plate high with more pancakes. I stood next to him and took some food.

‘Mr G.?’ Jerry said, lowering his voice.

‘Yeah, Jerry?’

‘Can we find a corner alone?’ he asked. ‘I gotta tell you somethin’.’

I looked at him with a joke on my lips, but I saw that he was serious.

‘It’s a big house,’ I said. ‘Got to be lots of corners.’

We both added bacon to our plates, and left the kitchen. We found two chairs at the end of a hall and sat down.

‘What’s up?’

‘You know those two mugs who grabbed you in Reno?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Same thing happened to me in Brooklyn, after we talked.’

‘What?’

‘Yup,’ he said, ‘only there was three of ’em.’

‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘What happened? Did you get hurt?’

‘Well,’ Jerry said, ‘I’ll tell you. .’

Jerry said they came for him right in his house. He got back from doing some grocery shopping, entered his house with two bags. They jumped him as soon as he got in the door.

Something hit him from behind and he went sprawling, cans of vegetables and packages of meat flying everywhere.

Jerry, being a pro, immediately rolled, avoiding the size-fourteen boot that tried to stomp him.

He kept rolling and came to his feet at the other end of the room, holding the nearest thing he could grab. There were three of them facing him, and they had knives. All he had in his hand was a frozen whole chicken.

Whether they were there to kill him or mess him up he didn’t know, but he treated it like he’d treat any attack — like it was deadly. So he wasn’t going to hold back.

But they were pros. Jerry had seen lots of TV and movie fights where the hero was outnumbered, but the bad guys rushed him one at a time. In real life it didn’t work that way. Bad guys tended to use their superior numbers to their advantage.

The three of them — all as big as rhinos — charged him.

Jerry did the unexpected.

He charged them, too, his arms outstretched. At the last moment he left his feet in a leap, crashed into the three of them, taking all four of them to the floor. This time he was ready. As he landed he swung his chicken, hitting one of them in the head. Jerry had swung with all his might, so when frozen chicken met guy’s head, the head cracked like a coconut.

That left two.

Jerry rolled away and came to his feet, again. He hadn’t had a chance to grab the downed hood’s knife, so he was still armed with his chicken.

The other two scrambled to get to their feet. As they did one of them stepped on their fallen comrade’s foot. He staggered, and Jerry leaped at the chance to take advantage. Long ago Jerry had learned to use his size and weight to his advantage. He bulled into the other man with his shoulder, sending him staggering back, then swung his deadly chicken again.

That left one.

This time he bent over and picked up the man’s knife. .

‘And?’ I asked.

‘I took care of the third guy,’ he said.

‘All three? Dead?’

‘All three.’

‘How’d you avoid the cops?’

‘I called a cleaner.’

A ‘cleaner’ was somebody who did just what the name implied — cleaned up a mess like that without cops getting involved.

‘So Irwin is so scared he sent goons to kill both of us,’ I said.

‘Guess maybe I didn’t scare him enough last time,’ Jerry said.

‘Or too much. When we get back to Vegas we’re gonna find his ass and ask him.’

At that point Frank came down the hall toward us.

‘Let’s keep this between us for now,’ I said.

‘OK.’

‘Eddie? Can I talk to you?’ Frank asked.

‘Sure.’ My plate was almost empty, anyway, so I set it down and followed Frank into the dining room, where he stopped and faced me.

‘I want you to meet the LA county DA,’ he said. ‘We’ll be working closely with him.’

‘Fine.’

‘I mentioned your name to him, and he flinched,’ Frank said. ‘Plus, I know when there’s somethin’ that’s not bein’ told to me, get it?’

‘I get it, Frank.’

‘So what the hell’s goin’ on?’

I told him about Raggio talking with Detective Hargrove, and then calling Evans.

‘I get it,’ he said, ‘I get it. That Raggio, he’s an ignorant SOB.’

‘Obviously.’

‘OK,’ he said, ‘let’s go and talk to the DA, see what he’s got to say.’

‘OK.’

Frank put his arm around me.

‘We all gotta work together to get Frankie home,’ he said, ‘and it ain’t gonna work if we don’t trust each other.’

‘Yeah, well,’ I said, ‘tell that to the DA.’

‘I am,’ he said. ‘Right now. Let’s go.’