Randisi exhumes the Rat Pack again, poor Marilyn Monroe along with them.
Las Vegas, 1962. Eddie Gianelli, pit boss of the Sands, is once more on call for his showbiz idols: Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. Without a doubt, the Rat Pack would fall apart without Eddie G. Is Dino unsettled by a flurry of hate mail? Is Old Blue Eyes in the throes of a bimbo backlash? Is Sammy experiencing an extortionist emergency? They send for Eddie-the-Ready to apply the fixative. After all, that’s what a sycophant does—as he does this time for the Pack’s extended family, incarnated in the opulent form of Marilyn Monroe. Poor Marilyn, Dino tells Eddie, minting an insight, is “a frightened, confused child in a woman’s body.” The child needs help, he adds. She thinks she’s being followed. Thus summoned, Eddie climbs out of the pit to mount an investigation that runs afoul of the plans of a cabal of bottom-feeders who leave two of Eddie’s allies with bumps and bruises. Who are these shadowy malefactors? The mystery of their identity turns out to be just as negligible as the puzzles in Randisi’s other Rat Pack entries (Hey There [You with the Gun in Your Hand], 2008, etc.).
Whatever you think of Sinatra and his drinking buddies, they can’t have been as colorless as Randisi portrays them.