Pete Genaro comped Teddy the Presidential Suite with every extravagance imaginable, from the bar, pool table, and sauna to the balcony terrace with barbecue grill. Ordinarily Teddy had no use for such excesses, but he had had no chance to clean himself up since the hospital. The bathroom featured a walk-in marble shower with three-sixty jets and a wraparound marble bench.
Teddy had been told he couldn’t get his cast wet, but the doctor hadn’t planned on him taking it off. Teddy got in the shower, washed up, and cleaned his wounds. He had almost forgotten the one on his side, it was so minor compared to the rest. Ironic that getting shot was the least of his problems. He washed it off while he waited for the throbbing in his leg to subside.
When he was done, Teddy dried himself off, hobbled on crutches to the bed, and went to work with his medical kit. He bandaged the wound in his chest and taped up his leg. He wouldn’t bother with the cast until he had to go out. It was decorative only.
Teddy took out one of the burner phones he’d brought along and called Mason Kimble at Star Pictures. “Mr. Kimble. This is Carlo Verdi. Sammy Candelosi would like to meet you and Mr. Cardigan for dinner tomorrow night. I’m arranging the details now. I’ve booked a high-roller two-bedroom suite for you and Mr. Cardigan. It’s available now, but you can come tonight or tomorrow. I regret that we do not have our own private plane, but let me know what flight you are going to take and I will book you first class. Don’t worry about transportation, you’ll be met at the airport. Check in and enjoy the casino, all expenses are comped. Don’t try to contact Sammy at the casino. I’ll let you know when it’s time. Does that work for you?”
“That will be just fine.”
“Good.” Teddy gave him the number of the burner phone. “Call me at this number when you decide what flight you want to take and I’ll set it up.”
Teddy figured he’d done a good day’s work. He lay down on the bed and was almost instantly asleep.