It Was a Very Bad Year

FIFTY

The phone rang early the next morning. Jerry moaned and I rolled over and grabbed it.

‘Get over here,’ Frank said, and hung up.

I hopped out of bed and slapped Jerry on the shoulder.

‘Gotta go, big guy.’

He groaned, but got his feet around to the floor while I was pulling on my pants. He reached under his pillow and brought out his.45. For once I was glad to see it.

He drove the limo to Nancy’s house in Bel-Air. There was a wall of reporters and cameras outside.

‘Looks like the word is out,’ I said.

‘Hold on.’

He expertly worked his way through the crowd without hitting anyone. . too hard. A couple of men — probably Sinatra’s bodyguards — opened the gates to let us through.

Inside the house there was a lot of activity, none of it seeming to accomplish anything. Frank was talking to a man who appeared to have arrived just before us.

‘Eddie,’ he said, when he spotted me, ‘this is Al Hart, from my bank. He brought the money.’

‘Where is it?’

Frank picked up a brown paper bag and showed it to me.

‘This is the way they want it,’ he said.

‘Fine. When do we go?’

‘Now,’ Frank said.

‘There are a hell of a lot of reporters outside, Frank.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘You drive. I’ll crouch down in the back.’

‘I’ll get in the trunk,’ Jerry said.

Evans, who was standing by listening, asked, ‘Do you think you’ll fit?’

Jerry tossed him a look and said, ‘I’ll make myself fit.’

‘Where are we supposed to go?’ I asked.

‘I’ll tell you when we get in the car.’

‘Mr Sinatra,’ Evans said, ‘if you’ll tell me I can have some men-’

‘No,’ Frank said, ‘no men. If these guys are amateurs, seeing a bunch of cops might make them kill Frankie.’

‘Sir, with all due respect, they might kill him anyway.’

‘I’m bettin’ two hundred and forty thou they won’t — and this ain’t the biggest bet I ever made. Just the most important.’ He turned and thrust the paper bag of loot into my hands. ‘Let’s go.’

Frank, Jerry and I marched out to the car. I used the key to open the trunk for Jerry.

‘You got your piece, Jerry?’ Frank asked.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good,’ Frank said, ‘so do I.’ He was wearing a wrinkled grey suit, as if he’d slept in it, a white shirt, no tie. He opened the jacket and showed us the revolver in his belt. Jerry and I were similarly clad in wrinkled jackets. We all needed a shave. All we needed was some booze on us to complete the look of winos.

‘Frank,’ I said, ‘is that a good idea?’

‘If they hurt Frankie, Eddie,’ he said. ‘Or. . or worse, I’ll kill ’em.’ He gave me a hard look. ‘And don’t get in my way.’

‘I won’t, Frank.’

His look softened, then he touched my arm and said, ‘You’re a good friend — both of you are.’

‘Anything for you, Mr S.,’ Jerry said.

‘Good, big guy. Now get in the trunk.’

After we got away from the house and the reporters, Frank told me where we were going.

‘Phone booths,’ he said. ‘If I’m any good at guessing, there’ll be a coupla stops.’

‘Again?’

‘I’m sure once they’re satisfied that we’re not being watched they’ll tell me where to deliver the money.’

‘OK.’

‘But pull over here, first,’ he said. We were on a stretch of deserted highway. ‘We’ll let Jerry out before he suffocates. He can crouch down in back and I’ll sit up front with you.’

‘Gotcha.’

I pulled over and let Frank out. He released Jerry from the trunk. They both got situated and I started driving again.

‘This is it, guys,’ Frank said. ‘This is where we either get Frankie back, or I’m gonna end up killin’ somebody.’

I hoped with all my heart that the first part was true, and the last part would never happen.