Sucker bet - James Swain [5]
“Go easy, okay?” Donny mumbled.
“You bet,” Valentine said.
The promoter was all smiles in the dressing room after the show. His name was Rick Honey, and he was a shaven-headed sanctimonious prick. Rick handed out their checks along with plane tickets to their next gig, a sold-out show in Memphis the following week. As Valentine peeked inside his envelope, Rick cast him a disapproving eye.
“What’s the matter, Tony, you don’t trust me?”
“You, I trust,” Valentine said. “Not your accountant.”
Zoe came into the dressing room. “For you,” she said, and handed Valentine her mother’s cell phone.
He took the call in the hall. Out of principle, he never left his cell phone on, and people were always tracking him down through Kat’s.
“It’s me,” Mabel Struck, his neighbor, said. Mabel was the other woman in his life. She ran his consulting business when he was out of town, which had been a lot lately. “I got a package earlier from a casino in South Africa. I just read the letter from the head of security and figured I’d better call you.”
Valentine glanced at his watch. Tuesday night, nine-thirty, and Mabel was still working. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“He’s desperate.”
“Mabel—”
“Tony, he sent you a check for five grand!”
“Certified?”
“Yes! I’m sorry, young man, but I grew up knowing the value of a dollar—”
“So did I.”
“And I’m not about to let you walk away from a small fortune, so listen up.”
Valentine was standing in a tunnel, the manufactured air cool on his face, and he shut his eyes while Mabel read the letter to him. The casino was called Jungle Kingdom, and the head of security spelled out the situation pretty clearly. The casino’s blackjack tables were bleeding money, and the casino suspected a high-rolling customer was ripping them off. The problem was, the casino didn’t have any proof and couldn’t have the man apprehended without fear of a lawsuit.
“We have watched the man play for a hundred hours,” Mabel read from the letter. “He plays with different dealers, which rules out collusion. We are also convinced that he is not card-counting. Sometimes, it appears he is reading the backs of the cards. We have examined the cards, and they appear absolutely clean. I have enclosed four decks for your inspection. Your help in this matter is most appreciated. Sincerely, Jacques Dugay.”
“Jacques Dugay? He worked in Atlantic City once.”
“Were you friends?”
“No, he’s a jerk. Go into my study and turn on the black light next to my desk.”
“I’m in your study,” his neighbor said. “There, the light’s on.”
“Place one of the decks under the light.”
“Okay. Oh, my. The cards lit up like a Christmas tree. Even I can read them, and I can hardly see. All right, how did you know that?”
“I did some work for a casino in South Africa last year. I noticed that they were using playing cards manufactured in the next town. It struck me as really stupid, so I told the management. They said they did it to save money.”
“You’re saying the cheats went into the playing card factory and marked all the decks that went to the Jungle Kingdom?”
“Yes. The cards are called luminous readers. The cheat marks them in the factory before they’re shipped. Cards treated with luminous paint can be read with special glasses or with tinted contact lenses, but not with the naked eye.”
“How do you know the cheater isn’t marking the cards at home, then having an employee bring them in?”
Mabel had been running his business for two months and already sounded like a pro. He explained how he’d reached his conclusion. “That employee would have to be a dealer or a pit boss. It’s a risky play, especially with the eye-in-the-sky. The safest way to get marked cards into a casino is by going to the plant and marking them there.”
Valentine felt a tug on his sleeve.
“The cake is melting,