Sucker bet - James Swain [74]
“Yes?”
“Special delivery for Tony Valentine.”
It was not uncommon for Tony to get Sunday deliveries. “Who’s the sender?”
“Caesars Palace, Las Vegas.”
Caesars was a good client and kept Tony on a monthly retainer. She unchained the door and took the envelope out of his hand.
“Do you have a pen?” he asked. “I left mine at my last stop.”
“Wait here,” she said.
Mabel turned to go into the kitchen, then noticed that the envelope was from Federal Express. They delivered packages almost every day, and Tony had put his signature on file with the company. The drivers knew to leave packages in the mailbox. Even the subs.
She suddenly felt light in the head. The fear that every girl knew from the time she was old enough to walk swept over her. She had allowed a strange man to gain her trust.
She heard the front door shut and the sound of footsteps behind her. She opened her mouth to scream and felt the driver’s powerful hands around her throat.
As Valentine stepped out of the hotel elevator with Gerry, he spotted Saul Hyman standing by the house phones, talking to an operator. Valentine heard him say, “No, that’s all right,” and watched him put the phone down. Then Saul walked toward them.
“This must be your son,” Saul said.
“No, we just look alike,” Valentine said.
Saul glanced over his shoulder, as if fearful he was being tailed. “We need to talk. It’s about Victor Marks.”
Valentine glanced at his watch. He’d promised Gladys Soft Wings that he’d meet her at the reservation by three. She’d asked the elders for a hearing this afternoon and wanted to review his testimony before he gave it. If he hung with Saul, he’d be late, only he wanted to hear what the elderly con man had to say. He pointed at the hotel coffee shop. “Want to go in there?”
Saul did, and they went in. It was crowded, and the hostess had to seat them in smoking. Someone in the next booth was puffing away, and Valentine wondered if it was going to drive him crazy. Saul took out a pack of his own.
“Don’t,” Valentine said.
Saul put them away, then nervously drummed his fingertips on the table. A waiter came over, and they ordered coffee. Valentine looked around the coffee shop. Wasn’t Bill supposed to be tailing Saul?
Saul reached into his jacket and removed a thick envelope. It ended up in Valentine’s hands. “Victor called me in a panic. He met with that punk Rico Blanco this morning. Rico knows something’s up. I told Victor that Rico would end up murdering him if he got mad enough. Victor didn’t like that.”
Valentine peeked inside the envelope. It contained photographs taken off a television set, and he recognized Farley Bancroft, the dapper game show host of Who Wants to Be Rich? Opening the envelope a little more, he saw pages of handwritten notes.
“It’s all there,” Saul said in a whisper. “How to scam a TV game show.”
Gerry was looking, as well. “You’re kidding me. You really did that?”
Saul looked at Valentine. “Is he square?”
Valentine laid the envelope on the table. “Yeah.”
Saul said, “You know anything about the rackets, kid?”
“A little,” Gerry conceded.
“He’s a bookie,” Valentine said.
His son winced. “I shut the bookmaking operation down a few weeks ago.”
“You did?”
Gerry nodded. “I decided to go legit.”
Saul was hunched over his drink like it was a small fire. “This is touching,” he said.
“Shut up,” Valentine said, staring at his son. He saw Gerry smile and realized that he was telling the truth. Legit as in what? he wondered.
“So, how do you scam a game show?” Gerry asked.
A sly grin spread across Saul’s face. “It was beautiful. Victor calls me one day and says, ‘I just came up with this terrific con.’ Then he reads me an article in TV Guide about Farley Bancroft. Article says Bancroft owns a piece of Who Wants to Be Rich? Guy’s worth a hundred million bucks, easy.
“So I say, ‘And what does this have to do with the price of eggs?