Sucker bet - James Swain [54]
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“Intuition.”
She pointed at an empty chair. As he sat, a bag of potato chips landed in his lap. Opening it, he shoved a handful in his mouth.
Closing out of her document, Jodisue went into E-mail and pulled up Jacques’s missive. There was a note and an attachment.
Dear Tony Valentine,
Here is the tape. I see nothing, but I am not you. Thanking you in advance, I remain,
Jacques Dugay
She double-clicked her mouse on the attachment. “You a cop or something?”
“I’m a consultant,” he said, staring at the static blue screen. “I catch people who cheat casinos.”
“I thought it was the other way around.”
“It’s pretty serious crime. About a hundred million a year alone in Las Vegas, and that’s just the cheating they know about.”
“Don’t you have to be there and actually see it?”
“The surveillance films are usually enough.”
Windows Media Player appeared on her computer screen. Jacques’s film was taking its time downloading. They bantered for several minutes, and Valentine felt like he was dancing. The film began to play. It was of good resolution, and showed a game of roulette with over a dozen players placing bets. Right away, Valentine saw something he didn’t like, and pointed at the screen.
“This guy bothers me,” he said.
The man in question was an employee. His job was to change the players’ cash into chips, which was called the buy-in.
“How come?” Jodisue asked.
“His body language is wrong.”
“Maybe he’s upset about something,” she suggested.
“He wouldn’t bring it with him to work.”
“How can you know that?”
“Casinos are strange places,” he said. “There’s constant energy flowing back and forth. It’s impossible not to get caught up in it. Now, look at the guy. He’s detached himself from the action. He’s on the outside, looking in.”
Jodisue stared at the screen. “You’re very perceptive.”
Valentine thought back to what Jacques had told Mabel. If the cheats were stealing a grand a night, it was probably going out in dribs and drabs, and not in one big killing, where it might be picked up by the cameras.
The film ended. Without being asked, Jodisue moved the cursor over the screen and hit replay. The film started over. This time, Valentine watched the change man to the exclusion of everyone else at the table.
Part of the change man’s job was to deposit the players’ money into a locked drop box. Twice the bills got stuck, and he had to jiggle the plunger to get them down the chute. Valentine leaned back in his chair, convinced he’d made the scam.
“You mind my asking you a question?” Jodisue said.
“Go ahead.”
“The lady who works for you . . .”
“Mabel?”
She nodded. “She your wife?”
Jodisue’s fingers wore no rings, and the framed pictures on her desk contained nothing but panting canines. Another time, another place, he would have taken her out for a milk shake, if for no other reason than to say thanks.
“Yes,” he said.
“That’s what I figured,” Jodisue said.
Back in his room, Valentine lay on the bed and called Mabel. “You still steamed at me?” he asked.
“A little. You know, Tony, you need to think about people besides yourself every once in a while.”
The truth be known, he did think about other people all the time—Gerry, Kat, Bill Higgins—but what his neighbor was saying was, he needed to start thinking about her more, especially if she was going to run his business.
“I will,” he promised. “Scout’s honor.”
“Good. Did you watch Jacques’s film?”
“Yes. The cheater is the change man at the table. He’s using a double drop box.”
“What’s that?”
“The box has a second box hidden in one of its walls. He uses a plunger to push the money down a chute into the box. By pushing the plunger sideways, the money goes into the hidden box. It’s based on an old magic principle. Tell Jacques the man who empties the drop box is also involved in the scam.”
“He’ll be so happy,” she said.
“I know it’s late, but I need you to go on the Internet.”
“I’m in your study,” his neighbor said. “Give