The Last Don - Mario Puzo [221]
Cross was silent. He watched the green flag over the Villa being consumed by smoke and fire, heard the fire engines screaming down the Strip. Twelve million dollars going up in flames to hide the blood he’d shed. Lia Vazzi was a Qualified Man who spared no expense, courted no risks.
CHAPTER 23
BECAUSE HE WAS on official leave, Detective Jim Losey’s disappearance wasn’t noted until five days after the fire at the Xanadu. The vanishing of Dante Clericuzio was, of course, never reported to any authorities.
The investigation led to the police finding Phil Sharkey’s body. Suspicion focused on Losey, and it was assumed he had fled to escape interrogation.
L.A. detectives came to interview Cross because Losey was last seen at the Xanadu Hotel. But there was nothing to show any connection between the two men. Cross explained he had only seen him briefly on the night of the party.
But Cross was not worried about the law. He was waiting to hear from Don Clericuzio.
Surely the Clericuzio knew that Dante was missing, surely they knew he had been at the Xanadu when last seen. Why then had they not contacted him for information. Could the whole matter be passed over so easily? Cross did not believe that for a moment.
He continued to run the Hotel day by day, busy with plans to rebuild the burned-out Villa. Lia Vazzi had certainly taken care of the bloodstains.
Claudia came to visit him. She was brimming over with excitement. Cross arranged for dinner to be brought up to his suite so they could talk in private.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she said to Cross. “Your sister is going to be head of LoddStone Studios.”
“Congratulations,” Cross said, giving her a brotherly hug. “I always said you were the toughest of the Clericuzio.”
“I went to our father’s funeral for your sake. I made that clear to everyone,” Claudia said with a frown.
Cross laughed. “You certainly did, and you pissed everybody off except the Don himself who said, ‘Let her go make pictures and God bless her.’ ”
Claudia shrugged. “I don’t care about them. But let me tell you what happened because it is so strange. When we all left Vegas in Bobby’s jet, everything seemed perfect. But when we landed in L.A., all hell broke loose. Detectives arrested Bobby. For guess what?”
“Making lousy movies,” Cross teased.
“No, listen, this is weird,” Claudia said. “Remember that girl Johanna that Bantz had with him at the wrap party? Do you remember what she looked like? Well, it turns out she was only fifteen years old. They got Bobby on statutory rape and white slavery because he took her across the state border.” Claudia’s eyes were wide with excitement. “But it was all a setup. Johanna’s mother and father were there screaming bloody murder that their poor daughter had been raped by a man forty years older.”
“She sure didn’t look fifteen,” Cross said. “Though she did look like a good hustler.”
“It would have made a terrible scandal,” Claudia said. “But good old Skippy Deere took charge. He got Bantz off the hook for that moment. He kept him from being arrested and the whole thing getting into the media. So everything seems squared away.”
Cross was smiling. Apparently good old David Redfellow had lost none of his skills.
“It’s not funny,” Claudia said reproachfully. “Poor Bobby was framed. The girl swore that Bobby forced her to have sex in Vegas. The father and mother swore they cared nothing for money but wanted to stop all future rapists of young and innocent girls. The whole Studio was in an uproar. Dora and Kevin Marrion were so upset that they talked about selling the Studio. Then Skippy took charge again. He signed the girl to star in a low-budget film, the script to be written by her father. For very good money. Then he got Benny Sly to rewrite the script in one day for a lot of money. Not bad, by the way, Benny is some kind of genius. We’re all set. And then the district attorney of Los Angeles insists he’s going to prosecute. The DA that LoddStone got elected, the DA who was treated like a king by Eli Marrion. Skippy even