Sucker bet - James Swain [14]
“A little,” Valentine admitted.
“Remember those roulette cheats you helped me bust? They were convicted this morning. They got three years, counting the time they’ve already done. And they have to give the money back.”
“Nice going.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you.”
It had been one of Valentine’s better busts. The cheaters, all Venice Beach bodybuilders, had come up with a unique scam. By pressing on the railing of the table on which the roulette wheel sat, they had used their combined strength to bend the table and cause the wheel to become biased. The bodybuilders’ girlfriends had then bet a particular group of numbers, called a chevron, and taken the casino for a ride during several visits. Higgins had been unable to make the scam, and had flown Valentine in. He had nailed them by discreetly placing a carpenter’s level on the table just as they had started to do their thing.
“I need your help,” Higgins said.
“Something wrong?”
“There sure is,” his friend said.
Valentine drove to a rest stop and parked his car. Inside, he purchased a soda from a vending machine. Sitting on a picnic bench in the shade, he called Higgins back.
“I’m in a real bind,” Higgins said. “A blackjack dealer I recommended for a job at the Micanopy Indian reservation casino has disappeared. I’ve known this kid a long time, and I’m worried about him.”
“And you’d like me to pop down there and see what I can do,” Valentine said.
“I sure would.”
“What’s his name?”
“Jack Lightfoot.”
Valentine felt the cold from his drink shoot straight into his head. Harry Smooth Stone hadn’t mentioned that Jack Lightfoot was missing. Normally, casinos didn’t like it when their personnel went AWOL, and got downright panicky when their dealers started disappearing. Yet Smooth Stone had said nothing.
“You say you know this kid?”
“That’s right.”
“He involved in anything? You know, like drugs.”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“What are the people at the casino saying?”
“Head of security is a guy named Harry Smooth Stone. The Micanopys aren’t the most communicative bunch. Harry isn’t saying much of anything.”
Valentine finished his drink and tossed it into a trash receptacle. Jack Lightfoot didn’t sound like the kind of kid who would become a cheater, yet Harry Smooth Stone had said a player at Lightfoot’s table had won eighty-four hands in a row. Something wasn’t adding up. “Maybe I should pay the Micanopys a visit,” he said.
“You don’t mind?”
“For you? Never.”
Higgins thanked him. He was not prone to dramatics, and Valentine was surprised when Higgins offered to get him a comped suite at the Bellagio the next time he was in Las Vegas.
“Sounds great,” Valentine said.
5
Valentine got back on the Alley. A sign said, MICANOPY CASINO, 20 MILES. He’d told Smooth Stone he’d meet him at seven. Which gave him plenty of time to sniff around the casino unobserved.
The best way to walk around a casino was as a tourist. Tourists were considered suckers by casino people and rarely aroused suspicion. Only, looking like a tourist wasn’t easy. People were always pegging him for a cop, which he supposed had something to do with his penchant for black sports jackets and thick-soled shoes. It was his persona, retired or not.
He came to the Alley’s only gas station. It contained a small convenience store, and he was soon inspecting a rack of cheap clothes. A gaudy floral shirt and floppy hat set him back fourteen bucks. He changed in a lavatory stall, then appraised himself in a mirror. He looked like a schmuck. Great.
At six he pulled into the Micanopy casino’s parking lot. The public’s appetite for losing money knew no bounds, and the lot was filled with out-of-state plates. He found a space behind the main building and killed the engine. It bothered him that he still hadn’t talked to Kat, and he powered up his cell phone and punched in her number. It rang for a while, and he was about to hang up when a man’s voice said, “Yeah?”
“This is Tony. Is Kat there?”
“Kat’s busy right now,” the voice said.
Valentine could hear Zoe yelling at her father