Sucker bet - James Swain [82]
Smooth Stone stared straight ahead, the others at the floor. The air conditioner made a sound like it was about to blow up. One of the tribal policeman shut it off, and the trailer turned deadly still.
“No,” Smooth Stone muttered.
Neither did the others.
“Very well,” the lead elder said. “By the power vested in us through the Micanopy nation, this council finds you guilty of cheating the tribe and of the murder of Karl Blackhorn. You will be turned over to the Broward County police along with the evidence presented here today, and tried in the white man’s court.” He paused, then added, “You are a disgrace to your forefathers. To all of us.”
Then the tribal police escorted the guilty men out of the trailer.
Valentine watched them file out. The only evidence presented here today was him. Which meant he’d have to hang around for questioning, depositions, and a jury trial. He was going to become part of the system again, whether he liked it or not.
He could not believe how much the thought depressed him.
He went over to the defense table. His son was smiling, and Valentine realized it was the first time Gerry had actually seen what he did for a living. A tribal policeman removed Running Bear’s shackles. The chief stuck his hand out, and Valentine shook it.
“Jack Lightfoot taught them this trick, didn’t he?” Running Bear said.
Valentine nodded.
“By reversing the process and showing little rock, Lightfoot let the drunk Englishman win eighty-four straight hands.”
“Right again,” Valentine said. He watched the elders file out. None came over to thank him. He guessed they hadn’t liked the scolding.
“Let’s go,” he said to his son.
“The chief and I would like to take you and Gerry to dinner tonight,” Gladys said. “There’s a wonderful restaurant on Las Olas that we think you’ll like.”
Valentine nearly said yes. He’d been wanting a good meal for days. Only, his head wasn’t in the right place. He didn’t like helping casinos anymore, even ones that helped people. Tomorrow, he might feel different, but that was tomorrow.
“No thanks,” he said.
Gladys looked hurt. So did Running Bear. And his son looked as embarrassed as hell.
Valentine walked out of the trailer.
37
I-95 was the usual madhouse. His son was handling the wheel and kept shooting unhappy glances at his father. Finally he couldn’t hold it in, and said, “That was rude, Pop.”
“Those people aren’t our friends,” he said. “We don’t owe them anything.”
“But you helped them. And they wanted to say thanks.”
“I help a lot of people. They can say thanks by paying me.”
“That’s not my point. You didn’t have to be so crummy to them.” A car cut them off from the right lane, and Gerry punched his horn. “By the way, why were you so crummy to them?”
Valentine stared out the window. Back home, in his closet, was his yellow suit. In its pocket, an airplane ticket to Memphis. He took a deep breath. “Standing in front of the elders, I was reminded of why I enjoyed being on the road with Kat so much.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because sometimes, I hate working for casinos.”
“Is this one of those times?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you thinking about getting back together with Kat?”
What he’d been thinking about was flying to Memphis next week and watching her from the audience. Showing his support without stepping foot in the ring.
“Yeah.”
“So, what you’re saying is, you’d like to get away every now and then, but not shut down the business.”
Valentine nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Sounds like you need a partner.”
Valentine’s head snapped. Gerry momentarily took his eyes off the highway, and they stared at each other. Then his son’s eyes shifted back.
“You’re kidding,” Valentine said, “aren’t you?”
“Mabel says you have more business than you can handle. I’m going to sell the bar. If I have anything left after I pay you the fifty grand I owe you, I wanted to buy into Grift Sense.”
Valentine blinked. Pay him back? Buy into his business? The past three days did not balance out the last twenty-two years, and Gerry did not sit high on his list of potential business partners.