The Way You Die Tonight Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  The Rat Pack Mysteries from Robert J. Randisi

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Epigraph

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Epilogue

  The Rat Pack Mysteries from Robert J. Randisi

  EVERYBODY KILLS SOMEBODY SOMETIME

  LUCK BE A LADY, DON’T DIE

  HEY THERE (YOU WITH THE GUN IN YOUR HAND)

  YOU’RE NOBODY ’TIL SOMEBODY KILLS YOU

  I’M A FOOL TO KILL YOU *

  FLY ME TO THE MORGUE *

  IT WAS A VERY BAD YEAR *

  YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO DEAD *

  THE WAY YOU DIE TONIGHT *

  * available from Severn House

  THE WAY YOU DIE TONIGHT

  A ‘Rat Pack’ Mystery

  Robert J. Randisi

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First published in Great Britain 2013 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  9-15 High Street, Sutton, Surrey SM1 1DF.

  First published in the USA 2014 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS of

  110 East 59th Street, New York, N.Y. 10022

  eBook edition first published in 2014 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Copyright © 2013 by Robert J. Randisi.

  The right of Robert J. Randisi to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Randisi, Robert J. author.

  The way you die tonight.

  (A Rat Pack mystery; 9)

  1. Rat Pack (Entertainers) – Fiction.

  2. Gianelli, Eddie (Fictitious character) – Fiction.

  3. Hughes, Howard, 1905-1976 – Fiction.

  4. Casinos – Nevada – Las Vegas Fiction.

  5. Missing persons – Investigation – Fiction.

  6. Detective and mystery stories.

  I. Title II. Series

  813.6-dc23

  ISBN-13: 978-07278-8334-6 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-17801-0477-5 (ePub)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

  ‘The Way You Look Tonight’

  Jerome Kern

  Lyrics by Dorothy Fields

  To Marthayn

  I love the way you look every night!

  PROLOGUE

  December, 2007

  ‘Where’s your Messiah now?’

  With all the gangster movies Edward G. Robinson made during his career it was this line, uttered in Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments, for which he is well known. For years comics would use it when impersonating Robinson. ‘Dathan’ was as famous a role for him as ‘Rico’ in Little Caesar and ‘Rocco’ in Key Largo.

  I was at home in my living room, watching The Ten Commandments on Turner Classic Movies, as part of a birthday tribute to Edward G. Robinson, who had been born on December 12th, 1893. I had already seen Key Largo and Little Caesar, and next – after Heston was done chewing the scenery – they were going to finish the day with the movie he did with Frank Sinatra in 1959, A Hole in the Head. In it, Frank and Eddie play brothers who don’t get along very well, even though they love each other. In point of fact, Frank and Edward G. were friends.

  That wasn’t the only movie they had made together, though. Eddie had also appeared briefly in Robin and the 7 Hoods, one of the Rat Pack movies that was released in 1964. He had an uncredited part as ‘Big Jim Stevens’, a part he played as a favor to Frank.

  I was missing one, though, a film I thought they should surely have included, except at the time it hadn’t been made as an Edward G. Robinson movie. The Cincinnati Kid was a Steve McQueen picture, but as far as I was concerned, Eddie stole that film as the old poker pro ‘Lancey Howard’.

  Frank Sinatra was the Chairman of the Board.

  Steve McQueen was the King of Cool.

  Edward G. Robinson was Little Caesar.

  The three men were connected by celluloid.

  Frank wrote Steve McQueen into his 1959 film Never So Few when, incensed over something Sammy Davis said in an interview, he wrote Sammy out. Sammy eventually earned Frank’s forgiveness but the film had been McQueen’s big break. Since then he had become a major star in films like The Great Escape, Baby the Rain Must Fall and Love With the Proper Stranger.

 
I had first met Edward G. Robinson in the Fall of 1964 when he was researching The Cincinnati Kid role. Frank had convinced him to come to Sin City to learn everything he could about poker, and to spend some relaxing time with Frank, Dino and Sammy. Because I was friends with the guys, and because Robinson and I shared an ‘Eddie G.’ persona, it was only natural that we would meet. Add to that Jack Entratter’s determination to make sure Edward G. Robinson had everything he wanted, and the old master and I ended up spending some time together.

  These days I spent a lot of time in my condo, which was furnished in what designers would call a spartan manner. I had an easy chair – not a recliner – that I’d settle into, usually with a cup of tea, or something stronger, so I could watch some of my old friends on TCM.

  I finished watching the DeMille masterpiece, and then had about fifteen minutes before the next movie started. My kitchen was the kind with ‘ette’ on the end of the word, with a small oven, a refrigerator, and a tiny counter. I got myself some crackers and cheese, and then tonight a small bourbon. One drink at night usually served to relax and help me sleep, when simple tea didn’t do the job. (Octogenarians need help sleeping, sometimes.)

  While I waited for the next film to start, I took the time to drift back and think about everything that had happened in that Fall of 1964 …

  ONE

  Las Vegas

  Fall, 1964

  I was watching a high-stakes poker game that was going on in one of the Sands’ large suites. Having put some of our ‘whales’ – our biggest and richest clients – together for this game, Entratter had assigned me to watch and keep the peace. This was not only a clash of bankrolls, it was a clash of egos, as well. According to Entratter, nobody handled big egos like I did. Faint praise.

  I was standing off to one side, watching the five men at the poker table – six if you count the dealer. There wasn’t a lot of talking during a game like this, not with thousands of dollars at stake.

  Three of the players were regulars. The other two I’d found to round out the game. I hadn’t wanted to bring them in, because I didn’t know them, but Entratter wanted the game to come off, so reluctantly I recruited them.

  I watched the two new players carefully for the first couple of hours. Everything seemed on the up-and-up. When the relief dealer came in – a pretty girl named Laura – the players continued to pay attention to their cards.

  The regulars were Dan Roburt, a big time gambler in his fifties; Harry Devlin, about sixty, a millionaire businessman who came to town twice a year to blow a bundle; William Landry, a hotshot producer from Hollywood, at the top of his game at forty, who came to Vegas to indulge all his vices: gambling and drinking. I heard he was never drunk when he was working, but it seemed to me he was always drinking when he gambled. And yet, when he lost it wasn’t because of that. He was just a terrible poker player.

  The newcomers were Sam Temple, in his forties, and Carl Butler, also in his forties. I didn’t know much more about them, except that they played for high stakes. When I offered them a chance at a big game, they jumped at it. As far as I could tell, they had never previously met.

  Aside from me and the dealer, the room had a bartender, and a security man named Kendrick. Entratter would drop in a time or two.

  ‘I hear Edward G. Robinson and Steve McQueen are makin’ a movie about poker,’ Devlin said.

  ‘That’s what I hear,’ Landry, the producer said, ‘but how do you know that?’

  ‘Easy,’ Devlin said. ‘They tried to recruit me as an investor.’

  ‘No go?’ Landry asked. ‘Don’t like investing in movies?’

  ‘I don’t mind that,’ Devlin said, ‘but I lose enough money at poker without investing in a poker movie.’

  ‘Don’t think it’ll be any good?’

  ‘Steve McQueen?’ Devlin said. ‘He’s a punk. And Robinson is over the hill. That’s got flop written all over it.’

  I didn’t agree, but I wasn’t there to partake in the conversation. Neither were they, for that matter. They got back to the game, and conversation was once again at a bare minimum, limited to ‘open’, ‘raise’ and ‘fold’.

  During hour four Entratter put in an appearance. He used a key to come in. If he’d knocked Kendrick would have gone to the door, answered it with his hand on his gun.

  Entratter came over and stood next to me.

  ‘How’s it goin’?’

  ‘The regulars are cleaning up,’ I said. ‘And by that I mean Devlin and Roburt. Landry’s making his usual donation. Temple and Butler are being fleeced.’

  ‘But is everybody happy?’

  ‘Happy as they can be,’ I said. ‘Have you heard anything about a poker movie with Steve McQueen?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jack said, ‘The Cincinnati Kid.’

  ‘With Edward G. Robinson?’

  ‘And Ann-Margret.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘she gets around.’

  It had only been months since Ann-Margret was in Vegas with Elvis making Viva Las Vegas.

  ‘She’s movin’ up,’ Entratter said.

  ‘McQueen is a step up from Elvis?’

  ‘In the movies, yes.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘They got along on Never So Few. And that movie gave him a big lift up. He got a three-picture deal after that.’

  ‘So he owes Frank.’

  ‘Lots of people owe Frank.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘How’s Kendrick?’

  ‘Alert.’

  ‘I’ll send somebody up to relieve him in a couple of hours.’

  ‘And me?’

  ‘I want you here the whole time.’

  ‘Then you better send up some coffee.’

  ‘OK.’

  He walked to the door and let himself out. Kendrick followed him and made sure the door was locked. He nodded to me and went back to his position. He had not had a drink since the game started. I’d had a Coke. I walked over and stood next to him.

  ‘Entratter’s going to send up some coffee and, in a couple of hours, some relief for you.’

  ‘I could use both,’ he admitted.

  Kendrick had been working at the Sands for eight months. This was not the first time our jobs had crossed, but it wasn’t a regular thing. We didn’t know each other all that well.

  I went back to my position.

  TWO

  The coffee arrived within half an hour. Kendrick answered the knock on the door and allowed a waiter to wheel in a cart with an urn and enough cups for anyone interested. All of the players imbibed except for Landry, who kept drinking scotch. I had a cup, and so did Kendrick. The bartender eyed the urn, so I told him to have a cup, too.

  When there was a knock on the door again, Kendrick assumed it was his relief. Either that or a waiter to remove the coffee urn. He walked to the door and put his hand on the knob. I wanted to be more careful, though.

  ‘Wait a minute—’ I said, but he didn’t react. Instead, he opened the door.

  ‘I’m here to relieve you,’ a man said, entering the room.

  ‘I don’t know you—’ Kendrick started to say, but suddenly the other man had a gun in his hand and he cold-cocked him.

  Another man came into the room behind the first. It was the waiter who had brought the coffee. He was also holding a gun.

  ‘Everybody relax,’ the first man said, as Kendrick went down, ‘and nobody will get hurt.’

  I guess I should have relaxed, but instead I grabbed the coffee urn, yanked the top off and tossed the contents in the direction of the two gunmen. I did it without thinking, because if I had thought about it first, I probably wouldn’t have done it.

  There wasn’t a lot of coffee left, but what there was of it was hot. It landed on the first man’s face. He dropped his gun and screamed, clawing at his eyes.

  The second man was only partially scalded on the arm, but he wasn’t able to get out of the way of the urn. The big metal container slammed into him, driving him back several feet.


  Before he could regain his balance I put my hands on the serving cart and ran at him. I drove it into him, driving him back even further, until he was pinned to the wall. His gun went flying and struck the floor. There was a metal tray on the table. I picked it up and slammed him on the head with it. His eyes rolled back and he slumped over the table.

  The first man was still staggering around, his hand to his scorched face. His gun was also on the floor.

  I ran over and bent down to pick up one of the guns.

  ‘Don’t!’ somebody said.

  The voice came from the poker table. I looked and saw one of the players pointing a small, nickel-plated gun at me. It was Landry, the producer.

  ‘What the hell …’ I said.

  ‘Sorry, Eddie,’ he said, ‘but I needed the money.’ He backed away from the table to cover the other players. ‘Put all the money in the center.’

  ‘How you plan to take the money out, Landry?’ I asked. ‘Your two partners aren’t gonna be any help.’

  ‘So I won’t have to split with them, after all,’ Landry said.

  ‘What the hell?’ Devlin said. ‘I thought you were a big shot producer?’

  ‘So did I,’ Landry said. ‘Turns out one bad movie can put your career in the crapper. You!’ he shouted to the bartender.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yeah, you,’ Landry said. ‘Find something to put the money in and collect it all.’

  The buy-in was a hundred grand. That meant there was half a million dollars in the room. But I was wondering where Landry had gotten his buy-in if he was broke enough to want to rob the game?

  ‘Like what?’ the bartender asked.

  ‘A bag,’ Landry said. ‘A box. Something. Come on!’

  ‘You can’t do this,’ Dan Roburt said. ‘You’ll never get away with it.’

  ‘They were supposed to do it,’ Landry said. ‘I just told them about the game. But they blew it, so it’s on me now.’

  ‘But you didn’t plan on this, Landry,’ I said. ‘Mr Roburt is right. You can’t get away with this. This is the Sands, for Chrissake. You know who owns this casino.’

  Landry was sweating, and fidgeting. He was starting to realize the position he was in.

  ‘You’ll never get out of the building,’ I said. ‘If you do, you’ll never get out of Vegas.’