Deadman's Bluff - James Swain [6]
The albino removed a plastic three-ring notebook from beneath the bar. Valentine flipped it open and scanned the neatly typed pages. After a few moments, he realized what he was looking at. The notebook contained the names and physical descriptions of several dozen blackjack dealers in Las Vegas, their work hours, and how many times per hour they mistakenly “flashed” their hole card to the players. Reading a flashed card was called front-loading, and a perfectly legal way to beat the house.
Valentine shut the notebook. “Actually there was something else I wanted to ask you. What’s the story with the World Poker Showdown?”
“I hear it’s rigged for the blind guy to win,” the albino said.
“Any idea how?”
“Rumor is, they’re using touch cards.”
Touch cards were a popular way among cheaters to mark cards. The cheater would use a sharp device called a punch to create an indentation in the card that could be felt by the thumb during the deal. This indentation let the dealer know when certain cards were coming off the top. Other variations used sandpaper and nail polish to scuff the back of the card.
“Thanks,” Valentine said, rising from his stool.
“You know, you’ve aged a lot since the last time I saw you,” the albino said.
Valentine was twenty-seven years older than his son. He wanted to tell the albino to get his eyes checked, but had a feeling the comment might be taken the wrong way. He said good night, and walked into the next room to watch Rufus shoot pool.
They left the bar with Rufus holding a handful of the construction workers’ money. As Valentine drove away, Rufus took several hundred-dollar bills and shoved them into Valentine’s shirt pocket.
“What’s that for?” Valentine asked.
“Saving me from getting whacked over the head with a pool cue,” Rufus said.
“You tell those guys I was a cop?”
“I sure did. That and those broad shoulders of yours kept those boys honest.”
“Were they hustlers?”
Rufus nodded. “Their hands gave them away. They were wearing dirty construction clothes, but didn’t have any calluses and their fingernails were clean.”
Valentine took Las Vegas Boulevard to the freeway, then headed north toward their hotel. The Celebrity, two exits away, was hosting the World Poker Showdown. A giant billboard in front of the hotel resembled a movie marquee, on which a video clip was being shown.
“Is that who I think it is?” Rufus asked.
Skip DeMarco’s handsome face had appeared on the marquee. DeMarco had knocked several famous players out of the tournament that day, just as he had since the beginning of the tournament four days ago, each time by calling their bluffs. DeMarco had “read” his opponents’ hands, even though he could not see their faces.
“That boy’s getting famous,” Rufus said. “Too bad he’s a cheat.”
“The bartender at the Jackalope said DeMarco is in collusion with the dealer,” Valentine said.
“Doing what?”
“Touch cards.”
Rufus shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“There’s a tell with touch cards. The thumb of the dealer’s hand scrapes across the top card. It wouldn’t fly.”
The traffic started to move and Valentine goosed the accelerator. On the marquee, DeMarco was dragging his opponent’s chips across the table with a gleeful look on his face. Rufus let out a disapproving snort.
“I can’t wait to play that boy once the tournament’s over,” Rufus said.
“You really dislike him, don’t you?”
“Kid’s got no class. You can tell he’s never driven the white line.”
“What’s that?”
“Looking for action. You drive a couple hundred miles to a game you’ve heard about. Sometimes the town isn’t even on a map. If the game looks beatable, you play. You do this forty weeks a year, and spend the rest of the time at home, getting reacquainted with your wife and kids. It’s a hard way to make a living. And the hardest part is driving the white line, not knowing what lays in store for you.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Valentine said.
“It is. One time down in Austin, I was playing