Deadman's Bluff - James Swain [21]
“You think the people running the tournament are crooked, don’t you?”
Rufus nodded grimly. “Cheaters don’t like to expose other cheaters. It makes them uneasy.”
“It that why the tournament isn’t regulating itself?”
“That would be my guess.”
The light on the lock flashed green. Valentine removed the key and pushed the door open. He could hear his bed calling to him, but it wasn’t as loud as his conscience.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to shut the tournament down,” he said.
10
As Kenny “the Clown” Abruzzi walked up to the car, Davis reached into his sports jacket and drew a .40 mini-Glock, the same gun Gerry’s father had carried up until the day he’d retired from the Atlantic City Police Department.
“Get ready to hit the floor,” Davis said.
Gerry stiffened. Bally’s unfriendly neon sign offered enough light to let him see Abruzzi’s face. The guy looked lost.
“I think he wants to ask us something,” Gerry said.
“With a gun in his hand?”
“I think it’s a flashlight.”
“Your vision that good?”
“Twenty/twenty.”
The flashlight in Abruzzi’s hand came on, proving Gerry right. It shone a sharp beam of light onto a piece of paper in his other hand that looked like directions. Davis slipped the Glock back into his shoulder harness, then rolled down his window.
Abruzzi flashed a sheepish grin. For a big guy, his face was small, with a hawk nose, smallish eyes, and dark hair slicked back on both sides. He held the instructions up to Davis’s open window, the familiar MapQuest symbol at the top of the page.
“Hey buddy, can you help me?” Abruzzi asked. “I think I’m lost. I’m looking for a Days Inn.”
Davis looked at the instructions while watching Abruzzi, then pointed out his window. “The Days Inn is five-and-a-half miles south on Atlantic Avenue. Hang a left, and go straight. You can’t miss it.”
Abruzzi said thanks, then hustled back to the Audi and climbed in. Gerry sensed he had made Davis as an undercover cop, and was going to run. Davis guessed the same thing, and redrew his Glock while opening his car door.
“You going to arrest him?” Gerry asked.
“I will if I find a police scanner in his car,” Davis replied.
“What can I do, besides stay out of your way?”
Davis had one foot on the macadam, and he turned to look at him. “Get behind the wheel. When I go up to Abruzzi’s car, I’ll give you a sign. Turn the headlights on so I can see what I’m dealing with.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Gerry said.
Davis got out and silently shut the door.
Gerry climbed across the front seats. Growing up a cop’s son, he knew that there was a science to handling a bust. If the bust was to go right, the first few seconds of the suspect learning his freedom was about to be taken away were critical. Anything could happen if the arresting officer didn’t handle the suspect properly. Gerry got behind the wheel and found the switch for the headlights.
Then he watched Abruzzi. The mobster had fired up a cigarette and was blowing smoke out his window. Davis came up to the window and identified himself as a police officer, then ordered Abruzzi to step out of the car while keeping his hands visible. Stepping back, Davis made the okay sign to Gerry.
Gerry hit the headlights and flooded the Audi in light.
Abruzzi didn’t get out. Instead, he stuck his head through the open window and started talking. He was playing dumb, and Gerry guessed this was where he’d gotten the nickname the Clown. Davis again ordered him out of the car.
Abruzzi kept up the idiot routine, and Gerry found himself thinking how Abruzzi had approached them with the instructions. It had allowed him to see what he was up against, and Gerry sensed Abruzzi was going to put up a fight. Gerry flashed the car’s brights, and Davis glanced in his direction.
“What?” Davis said loudly.
“Signal 30,” Gerry called out.
A Signal 30 was used by the Atlantic City police dispatchers when there was trouble and they needed to round up officers.
“I won’t say it again,” Davis said to Abruzzi. “Out of the car.”
“All right already,