Sucker bet - James Swain [29]
“What happened?”
“I stepped onto a land mine. I didn’t know that Florida’s governor and Running Bear squared off two months ago, and the governor got his nose bloodied. Well, the governor wants revenge. He had the state’s attorney general start a rumor that the Micanopys had mob ties. The rumor reached Washington, and Justice called me. I was brought in believing the Micanopys were crooks. I just had to find the evidence.”
“A witch-hunt.”
“Exactly.”
“How does Jack Lightfoot figure into this?”
“Jack was working for me.”
“You’re kidding me.”
Bill stared at the bubbles in his soda. “I saw Jack dealing blackjack at an Indian casino in northern California. He won so many hands, I knew he had to be cheating. I ran a check on him and found he was on parole. I cornered him and told him he could either return to prison, or work for me.
“I used Jack to infiltrate a number of Indian casinos, then a joint in Vegas. Jack was the best undercover man I’ve ever had. Because he’d been in jail and was a hustler, other hustlers instantly trusted him.”
“What did he find at the Micanopys’?”
“Nothing.”
“Why didn’t you pull up stakes?”
“I was going to,” Bill said. “Then Jack calls, says he got approached by a hood named Rico Blanco. I pull up Rico’s rap sheet, see he’s a member of the Gotti crime family. I get Jack to wear a wire, and start taping their conversations. It seems Rico is now working with a con man named Victor Marks. Rumor has it he scammed that TV show, Who Wants to Be Rich?”
“And Rico’s his partner.”
“Right. I tell my superiors in Justice, and they tell me to find out what Rico is up to.”
Valentine smelled a rat. “Go on.”
“Seems Rico is buttering up a sucker named Nigel Moon. The plan is to have Nigel come to the casino so Jack can deal him eighty-four winning hands. It goes perfect, and Jack meets up with Rico later. Somehow, Rico found out Jack was wearing a wire, and killed him.”
“And you have it on tape.”
“Had it,” Bill replied. “Justice took the tapes and pulled me off the case.”
“Why?”
“They want to build a case against the Micanopys. Look at the evidence I gave them. Jack has a record. And he was tied up with a known mafioso. And they were scamming the casino. All Justice has to do is edit out the parts they don’t want.”
“You’re saying the tribe is screwed.”
Bill nodded. “And I caused it.”
Bill’s shoulders sagged. He looked defeated, his face drawn and tired. He rose from his chair, and they went out onto the balcony.
It was a sun-kissed day, the sea a shimmering cobalt mass. Coming off the Atlantic was a smell that was pure south Florida, the salt and mildew and oysters choking on sand blending together in an intoxicating scent. Valentine put his hand on Bill’s shoulder.
“What are you going to do?” he asked his friend.
Bill turned and looked him square in the eye.
“Want to know the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Stick a gun in my mouth,” he said.
“Seriously,” Valentine said.
“Seriously,” he replied.
12
“She’s lying,” Zoe declared.
Kat was lost. She ripped off the sunglasses that gave everything a velvety look of a dying sunset, and tried to get her bearings. Mabel had given her instructions to the Tampa airport, and like a dope Kat hadn’t written them down. Had she gone the wrong way on 60? Up ahead she saw the beach. She had.
“Who’s lying, honey?”
“Mabel.”
“Her name’s Mrs. Struck, honey.”
“Okay, Mrs. Struck. She’s lying.”
There was no place to make a U-turn. That was one of the infuriating things about Florida. For a state with a trillion tourists, the roads were hardly marked. The people who really suffered were the Europeans. They came so far, only to spend half their time lost.
Traffic was bumper to bumper, and Kat threw the Mustang into park, then glanced at her daughter. Zoe had crossed her arms and was giving her the Little Miss Ugly pout that was part of the Berman genetic code.
“You’re not listening to me,” Zoe said.
“I’m listening to you and driving the car.”
“So what did I just say?”
“You said Mrs. Struck was lying.”
“That’s right.