‘Be there,’ I said.
Half an hour later we were sitting in the Garden Room Restaurant of the Sands, Danny with a burger and fries in front of him, me with coffee. Danny was a man of simple tastes.
‘You’re not eatin’?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been eating too much lately.’
He stopped chewing for a moment, then smiled and said, ‘Damn, Jerry’s in on this, ain’t he?’
‘He is.’
‘Is he in town?’
‘He is.’
He leaned forward and lowered his voice.
‘And is she in town?’
I lowered my voice and said, ‘She is.’
He popped a fry in his mouth and said, ‘OK, I’m gonna eat now and listen. Go.’
I told him the story from the start, and I didn’t leave anything out. Danny was my oldest friend in the world — my big brother’s best friend when we were kids — and I trusted him like I trusted nobody else.
He listened intently and didn’t stop me with any questions. He had one of the sharpest minds I’d ever encountered, hid it behind what some people called ‘childish bravado.’
When I was done he shook his head and said, ‘Ava Gardner. Hot damn. Do I get to meet her?’
‘Of course.’
‘Is she like they say?’
‘She’s exactly like they say,’ I answered, ‘and much more.’
He ate his last fry and asked, ‘She’s at your place, isn’t she? With Jerry?’
‘Now how’d you know that?’
He smiled.
‘Last place anybody’s gonna think you’d put her, my friend,’ he said. ‘It would be too dumb.’
‘Yes, it would.’
‘Another foolhardy idea would be to try lying to Frank Sinatra.’
‘That’s why I’m gonna enlist Dean’s help to get Frank to go along with Ava’s idea.’
‘And you think he will?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, ‘but he always listens to Dean.’
‘I’d tend to agree with that. When are you gonna talk to Dean?’
‘Right after I finish feeding your cheap ass,’ I said.
‘I am not cheap,’ he said, ‘I’m broke.’
‘You been payin’ Penny?’
‘She insists on it. I’ve been writin’ her pay checks every week.’
‘She been tearin’ up the checks?’
‘Yes,’ he said, smiling. ‘She insists on it.’ He sat back in his chair and sighed. ‘OK, tell me what you want me to do.’
FORTY-FIVE
I left a message for Dean. I also told the front desk where I’d be: on the casino floor, even though I was technically off duty.
I strolled through the casino, talking to some of my regulars, patting the butts of some of the waitresses — which was allowed back then — exchanging greetings with a celebrity or two; Nat King Cole, for one, who had come in right after Frank and Dean.
We talked a few minutes and he said, ‘Hey, I understand Tony LaBella’s going to be in the lounge. Now, there’s a cat with some pipes.’
‘I bet he’d love for you to come and see him, Nat.’
‘You know what, Eddie? I’ll do that.’
It was because of Frank and Dean that Sammy Davis, Nat Cole and other black performers were being allowed to stay in the same hotels they played. Just one way they had changed Las Vegas.
I had just finished talking with Nat when one of the desk clerks came up to me and said, ‘Mr Martin picked up his messages, Eddie. Says you should come on up.’
‘Thanks, Harry.’
I walked back to the lobby with him, then took the elevator up to Dean’s suite.
Mack opened the door and said, ‘Come on in, Eddie. He’ll be right out.’
He walked to the bar.
‘Bourbon?’ he asked.
‘Sure,’ I said, ‘rocks.’
He poured a bourbon for me and a ginger ale for Dean. The ever-present comic books were on the coffee table in front of the sofa — Dean’s, not Mack’s.
As he passed me the drink Dean came out, his black hair wet from a shower.
‘Hey, Pally,’ he said. ‘Good to see ya.’
He sat on the sofa. Mack walked over and handed him the ginger ale.
‘Thanks, Mack.’ Dean moved the comic books on the table around so he could see the covers. That led me to believe Mack had bought them and put them there for him. I could see a lot of color, but not what the books were. Or maybe I just wasn’t that interested.
‘Why don’t you go on to your room, Mack,’ Dean said. ‘I’ll see you in the mornin’.’
‘Call me if ya need me.’
‘I will.’
Dean waited until the door closed behind Mack’s hulking form.
‘What’s on your mind, Eddie?’
I sat down on one of the stools at the bar.
‘It’s about Ava, Dean. And Frank.’
‘I had a feelin’,’ he said. ‘What’s goin’ on?’
‘I’m really not sure yet, Dean,’ I said. ‘I’m tryin’ to find out, but I’ve got a problem that only you can help me with.’
He looked up from the comic books and said. ‘What‘s that?’
‘I’ve got Ava stashed away someplace safe-’ I started.
‘She needs to be stashed?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, we think so.’
‘We?’
‘Me, Jerry and Ava.’
‘Ah, Jerry,’ he said. ‘I shoulda figured he’d be involved, too. OK, go ahead. Sorry I interrupted.’
‘Well, the simple fact of the matter is, I’ve got her hidden away someplace safe and she doesn’t want Frank to know where that is.’
Dean sat back on the sofa, sipped his ginger ale and said, ‘Oh.’
I put my drink down on the bar.
‘Dean, Ava doesn’t want her troubles to spill over on Frank.’
‘What exactly are her troubles, Eddie?’
I explained about the lost hours, about the cab driver getting beat up by somebody who thought he was me, about being followed.
‘She’s afraid she’s done something. . bad, something that would bring her terrible publicity. . or worse, something she couldn’t live with. If there is bad publicity it might affect Frank. She doesn’t want that.’
‘Can’t say I blame her.’
‘I don’t want to lie to Frank,’ I said.
‘So you want me to lie to him?’
‘No, sir,’ I said. ‘I want you to tell Frank the truth, and get him to accept it.’
Dean crossed his leg, drank some more ginger ale and considered my request.
‘I tell you what I’ll do, Pally,’ he said, finally. ‘You tell Frank the truth, and then I’ll try to get him to accept it.’
I picked up my drink, finished it, put the glass down and said, ‘I guess that’s fair.’
FORTY-SIX
Earlier in the year I’d been flying back and forth from Vegas to Tahoe because Marilyn was there, staying in one of the Cal-Neva lodges. Frank had developed the Cal-Neva into a year round resort that the likes of Dean and Sammy and Nat King Cole and others had started playing on a regular basis.
The Sands had a helicopter at its disposal for the use of its high-stakes clientele, and as had been the case earlier in the year, that’s what Dean and I used to fly to Tahoe to see Frank.
Frank had told us to meet him in the Lakeview Dining Room for a late dinner. We got there first and were seated close to the window. The moon was reflecting off the water and made me wish I was there with a lady instead of Dino.
Dean was staring out the window and said, ‘Makes me wish I was here with Jeannie and not you — no offense, Eddie.’
‘None taken.’
I had a bourbon in front of me and Dean a ginger ale when Frank walked into the room. He was glad-handed from the door to our table.
‘Ain’t this place great?’ he asked, as he sat across from us. ‘Dino, you shouldn’t have sold your interest.’
Dean had sold his small interest in the Cal-Neva because he didn’t want to be in business with the boys. Frank knew that. Dean didn’t respond to Frank’s remark.
‘Ah, never mind,’ he said. ‘It’s good to see you guys. Lemme get a drink and then we can talk.’
He turned, flagged down a waiter and ordered a glass of Jack Daniels. I was drinking Jim Beam.
‘Need some gas,’ Frank said to us. To Frank his Jack Daniels was always ‘gasoline’.