Lenny Sands sounded good. The “eyeball witness” line was horseshit.
Pete said, “I’ll go see Sands. But let’s talk turkey about something else, too.”
“Cuba?”
“Yeah, Cuba. I’m starting to think it’s a gravy train for us lawenforcement retirees.”
“You’re right. And I’m thinking of buying in myself.”
“I want in. Howard Hughes is driving me nuts.”
“Do something nice, then. Do something John Stanton would like.”
“For instance?”
“Look me up in the Washington, D.C. white pages, and send me some goodies.”
Steisel jerked him out of his daydream. “Get these college kids to insert ‘alleged’ and ‘supposed,’ and make the pieces more hypothetical. Pete, are you listening to me?”
Pete said, “Dick, I’ll see you. I’ve got things to do.”
o o o
He drove to a pay phone and dialed favors. He called a cop buddy, Mickey Cohen, and Fred Otash, “Private Eye to the Stars.” They said they could glom some “goodies,” with D.C. delivery guaranteed pronto.
Pete called Spade Cooley. He said, I just kiboshed a new smear on you. Grateful Spade said, “What can I do for you?”
Pete said, I need six girls from your band. Have them meet me at Central Casting in an hour.
Spade said, Yes, Big-Daddy-O!
Pete called Central Casting and Hughes Aircraft. Two clerks promised satisfaction: six Howard Hughes look-alikes and six limousines would be waiting at Central in one hour.
Pete rendezvoused with his shills and paired them off: six Howards, six women, six limos. The Howards got specific instructions: Live it up through to dawn and spread the word that you’re blasting off for Rio!
The limos hauled ass. Spade dropped Pete off at the Burbank airport.
He caught a puddle jumper to Tahoe. The pilot started his downswing right over the Cal-Neva Lodge.
Be good, Lenny.
o o o
The casino featured slots, craps, roulette, blackjack, poker, keno, and the world’s thickest deep-pile carpets. The lobby featured a panoply of jumbo cardboard Frank Sinairas.
Dig that one by the door–somebody drew a dick in Frankie’s mouth.
Dig that tiny cardboard cutout by the bar: “Lenny Sands at the Swingeroo Lounge!”
Somebody yelled, “Pete! Pete the Frenchman!” It had to be somebody Outfit–or somebody suicide prone.
Pete looked around. He saw Johnny Rosselli, waving from a booth just inside the bar enclosure.
He walked over. The booth was all-star: Rosselli, Sam G., Heshie Ryskind, Carlos Marcello.
Rosselli winked. “Frenchman Pete, che se dice?”
“Good, Johnny. You?”
“Ça va, Pete, ça va. You know the boys here? Carlos, Mo and Heshie?”
“Just by reputation.”
Handshakes went around. Pete stayed standing–per Outfit protocol.
Rosselli said, “Pete’s French-Canadian, but he don’t like to be reminded of it.”
Giancana said, “Everybody’s gotta come from somewhere.”
Marcello said, “Except me. I got no fucking birth certificate. I was either born in fucking Tunis, North Africa, or fucking Guatemala. My parents were Sicilian greenhorns with no fucking passports. I shoulda asked them, ‘Hey, where was I born?’ when I had the chance.”
Ryskind said, “Yeah, but I’m a Jew with a finicky prostate. My people came from Russia. And if you don’t think that’s a handicap in this crowd…”
Marcello said, “Pete’s been helping Jimmy out in Miami lately. You know, at the cabstand.”
Roselli said, “And don t think we don’t appreciate it.’
Giancana said, “Cuba has to get worse before it gets better. Now the fucking Beard has ‘nationalized’ our fucking casinos. He’s got Santo T. in custody down there, and he’s costing us hundreds of thousands a day.”
Rosselli said, “It’s like Castro just shoved an atom bomb up the ass of every made guy in America.”
Nobody said, “Sit down.”
Sam G. pointed out a lowlife walking by counting nickels. “D’Onofrio brings these chumps here. They stink up my room and don’t lose enough to compensate. Me and Frank have got 40% of the Lodge between us. This is a top-line room, not a resort for the lunchpall crowd.”
Rosselli laughed. “Your boy Lenny’s working with Sal now.”
Giancana took a bead on the lowlife and pulled a make-believe trigger. “Somebody’s gonna put a new part in Mad Sal D’Onofrio’s hair. Bookies that owe more than they take in are like fucking Communists sucking the welfare tit.”