Deadman's Bluff - James Swain [43]
“Gerry killed someone?”
“Yes. Gerry was protecting an undercover policeman, and won’t face criminal charges. But that doesn’t change the situation.”
“Which is what?”
“That your boss and his son have gotten themselves into a blood feud with one of the most ruthless men in the United States. Your boss has a reputation for being a resourceful individual, and I’m sure his son is as well. But I’m afraid this is a fight that is stacked against them.”
“Why do you say that?” Mabel asked.
“Scalzo has connections all over the country, especially in Las Vegas, where he is now. And he has a small army on his payroll in New Jersey. If Scalzo is gunning for someone, he’ll usually get them.”
Mabel sighed. If she’d learned anything working for Tony, it was that her boss didn’t know the meaning of the word quit, and neither did Gerry. They were stubborn males, and not inclined to run away from a fight. “Thank you, Special Agent Romero. I appreciate the call. I’ll make sure Tony and Gerry are warned.”
“You’re welcome. May I ask a favor?”
“Certainly.”
“Please keep this conversation between you and your boss.”
“It will go no further.”
“Good-bye, Ms. Struck.”
Mabel nestled the receiver into its cradle. Pushing her chair back from the desk, she steepled her hands, and rested her chin on her fingertips. It was her thinking pose, and she sat silently, contemplating what to do.
When the phone rang fifteen minutes later, she was still absorbed in thought. She glanced at the Caller ID on the phone and saw that it was Gerry’s wife, Yolanda, calling on her cell phone. Yolanda had gone to Puerto Rico to visit her family a week ago, and Mabel had missed her company. She picked up the phone.
“Hello, Yolanda. How is sunny Puerto Rico?”
“I left three hours ago,” Yolanda replied. “I’m at the Miami airport, waiting for a connection to come home.”
“Is everything all right?”
“No. I mean yes. Oh, I don’t know.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I had this horrible dream last night,” Yolanda said.
“I wouldn’t have given it any weight, only my mother had the exact same dream. So, I decided to come home.”
Yolanda’s eighty-year-old mother was psychic, and had premonitions when bad things were about to happen. Mabel said, “Tell me what happened in your dream.”
“I was in a cemetery. It was freezing cold and pitch dark. I was looking at a tombstone with Gerry’s name on it and I was sobbing. I laid flowers on Gerry’s grave, then put flowers on a grave with a tombstone that had Tony’s name on it.”
“You saw both their names?”
“Yes,” Yolanda said quietly.
“And your mother had this same dream?”
“Yes,” Yolanda said. “She saw tombstones with Gerry’s and Tony’s names as well. Now, will you please tell me something?”
“Of course, my dear.”
“Are Gerry and Tony all right? Please be truthful with me.”
Mabel hesitated. Then her eyes fell on the frame hanging over Tony’s desk. It contained five playing cards—two black aces, two black eights, and the five of diamonds. Wild Bill Hickock had been holding aces and eights the night he’d been shot in a poker game, murdered by a gang of cheaters who were afraid of being run out of town. They were known as a Deadman’s Hand, and had been bought by Tony as a reminder that no job was worth getting killed over.
“I’m afraid they’re up to their eyeballs in trouble,” she blurted out.
“So my dream was a premonition,” Yolanda said.
“I hope not,” Mabel said.
There was a loud noise in the background, and Yolanda said, “They’re boarding my plane. I need to run. I’ll be home soon.”
The phone went dead in Mabel’s hand. Identical dreams couldn’t be a coincidence. Tony and Gerry were going to get hurt if they didn’t do something. She stared at the Deadman’s Hand, then shut her eyes and prayed, not wanting Wild Bill’s fate to be Gerry’s and Tony’s as well.
21
“I owe you a big steak,” Eddie Davis said. “I might just take you up on that,”