Free Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand) by Robert J. Randisi

added.
    “Maybe not,” I said, “but the pilot would be a witness.”
    “Good point,” Jerry said.
    We both sat there, waiting for Sammy and staring at the gun. Then I remembered and called down to the lobby for the driver.
    “There’ll be three of us going to the heliport, Henry.”
    “Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”
    “Thank you, Henry.”
    When Sammy came out, Jerry and I were still wondering what to do with the gun.
    “Why don’t we just leave it here?” he suggested.
    “We can’t do that,” I said.
    “Why not?” Sammy asked. “Nobody’s looking for it, nobody knows—”
    “The blackmailers know,” I said. “If this was an attempt to frame you they could call the cops and give them your name. What if they came here and found the gun?”
    “Okay,” Sammy said, “okay, so we just take it with us.”
    “I can carry it,” Jerry offered.
    “No,” I said, “we have to hide it, or get rid of it.”
    “Okay,” Sammy asked, “where?”
    “That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out.”

    We met Henry in the lobby.
    “The car is ready, sir.”
    “Okay, Henry,” I said. “Let’s go.”
    Jerry, Sammy and I got in the backseat, and Henry headed for the heliport.
    For a moment I thought about giving the gun to Henry to get rid of, but that would make him a witness—or, at least, an accomplice.
    We had wrapped it back up in the hotel and Jerry carried it again now. When we got to Vegas we’d drive out to the desert and get rid of it, I thought, bury it. Bodies had been hidden in the desert for years without being found. Why not a hunk of metal?
    “Let’s just go to Vegas,” I’d said in the room, “enjoy Dino’s show, and worry about all of this tomorrow?”
    “Sure,” Sammy agreed, “why not? After all, maybe we’ll never hear from them again. Maybe one killed the other and he’s on the run.”
    Yeah, maybe, but what about the photo Sammy was afraid of?
    What would happen to that?

Twenty-one
    O UR TABLE WAS A RIOT , especially with Joey, Frank, Sammy and Buddy Hackett heckling Dino. At one point Dean pulled the four of them on stage with him and they cracked the entire audience up for a good twenty minutes while Jerry and I watched with everyone else. Then he kicked them off and we all fell quiet and listened to the man do what he did best—sing.
    At one point he came out into the audience and approached a table where a young couple was sitting. They looked young enough to be newlywed, the man sandy-haired, the woman pretty and dark-haired.
    “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Dean asked her.
    “Shirley,” the girl said, shyly.
    “And is this fine young man your husband?”
    “Yes.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “Jerry.”
    “Where are you from, Shirley.”
    “San Francisco.”
    “Do you think your husband would mind if I sang a song to you?”
    “I wouldn’t care if he did,” she said, and everyone laughed, including her husband.
    “Well, all right, then …” Dean said, and he sang “I’d Cry Like a Baby,” to her. She blushed furiously, but loved every moment of it. When he finished Dean shook hands with the beaming young husband and returned to the stage.
    When he was finished with his act we all applauded, nobody louder or longer than Frank.
    “Let’s give him some time before we go backstage,” Frank said.
    I knew Frank was curious about how things were going, but he didn’t mention it in front of Joey and Buddy. And I knew he wouldn’t talk about it in front of Dino, either. He’d have to have the patience to wait until he got either me or Sammy alone.
    We waited for the Copa Room to empty out and had one more round of drinks.
    “You guys gotta let me come on stage with you one night,” Buddy said.
    “Where were you an hour ago, Buddy?” Frank asked. “You were up there with us.”
    “Just remember,” Joey said, wagging his finger at Buddy, “there’s only room for one comic in this act.”
    “Hey,” Buddy said, “you start doin’ some