Deadman's Bluff - James Swain [35]
Marconi thought it over. “Let me play devil’s advocate for a minute. What if the district attorney says the LEDs inside the cap are decorative. Plenty of people wear lights and electronic doodads in baseball caps. What do I say then?”
“The cap has a receiver,” Gerry said. “According to the New Jersey device law, no person shall possess any calculator, computer, or any other electronic, electrical, or mechanical device to assist in projecting or altering the game’s outcome.”
A thoughtful look crossed the Marconi’s face.
“That will work,” the detective said.
Gerry took out his cell phone. He needed to call his father, and get him up to speed. He wondered what his father would say upon hearing that Gerry had killed a member of George Scalzo’s crime organization.
A female cop entered the visitors’ area. The bland contours of her uniform could not hide her stunningly attractive figure. She pulled Marconi into a corner, spoke in a hushed voice, then handed him a thick Pendaflex file from under her arm. Marconi opened the file, his dark eyes scanning the page, then glanced nervously at Gerry.
“Thanks, Ellen,” he said.
She left. Marconi came over to where Gerry was sitting, and dropped the folder in Gerry’s lap. Then he sat down across from him.
“We need to talk,” Marconi said.
Gerry put his cell phone back into his pocket. “What’s wrong?”
Marconi pointed at the folder. “That.”
Gerry opened the file, and found himself staring at a Xeroxed memo from the Atlantic City Casino Control Commission. His name was on the center of the page and highlighted in yellow marker. He glanced at the other memos beneath it. His name was highlighted in yellow on them as well.
“What are these?”
“Memos from the Atlantic City Casino Control Com mission on which your name appears,” Marconi said. “Out of curiosity, I had Ellen do a name search through the computer. That’s how many files the CCC has on you. Your name is linked to more gambling scams in Atlantic City than anyone else in the computer. Tell me how I’m going to explain that to the district attorney.”
Gerry dropped the folder on the coffee table. A few hours ago he’d killed a scammer; now Marconi had evidence that said he was also a scammer. It didn’t paint a pretty picture, and he decided to come straight with the detective.
“Does it bother you that I was never arrested?” Gerry asked.
“So you were smart.”
“My name’s on fifty memos. That would make me a genius, don’t you think?”
Marconi leaned back in his chair. “Okay, so what’s your point?”
“Cops think that wherever there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Gerry said. “But there isn’t any fire here. Before I went to work for my father, I was a bookie. I did good business, and I’m not ashamed of it. I also had a reputation as being Tony Valentine’s son. Every scammer in the Northeast knows who my father is. Guys would come to me and ask me my advice.”
“What kind of advice?”
“They would be thinking about scamming a casino in Atlantic City. They would tell me what they were going to do, ask me if I thought my father had ever seen it before. When I was a kid, my father used to show us scams at the dinner table. I was exposed to a lot of amazing stuff when I was growing up. I also understand how my father thinks. I’d look at the scam, and tell them if I thought it would pass muster.”
“You charge for this?”
“No.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“The guys I helped out referred customers to me.”
“That’s sweet. How many guys did you tell not to bother?”
“Nearly all of them,” Gerry said. “Most of the scams were old, stuff my father had seen before. To be honest, I think I saved the taxpayers a lot of money.”
“How so?” Marconi asked.
“I kept those guys out of jail, and saved the taxpayers from having to pay for it.”
Something resembling a smile crossed Marconi’s face. He took the file and slapped it against Gerry’s leg, then rose from his chair. “A regular public servant. I’m going to go have a talk with the DA. Don’t go anywhere.”
Gerry realized