The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [38]
“Did Ulibarri play poker here last night?” he asked, studying Staggs’s face, which remained expressionless.
Staggs caught himself nodding. “Yes.”
“Did he win or lose?”
“He came in the game with ten thousand, the house minimum, and cashed out at twenty-five thousand. I counted the chips myself.”
Staggs maintained his bland air. Clayton figured he had his poker face on, which made sense given his occupation. “What time did he leave the game?”
“It broke up at five in the morning. That’s when everybody left.”
“How many players?” Clayton asked.
“Six, including me,” Staggs replied. “Ulibarri and the other two guys that were staying here went back to their cabins. Everybody else took off.”
“Did you see them leave?”
“Yeah, I stood on the porch and waved bye-bye.”
“Don’t be a wiseass,” Clayton said. “Did you see them leave?”
“No.”
“Give me names.”
Staggs named the players staying at the cabins.
“What about the other two guys?”
“They both flew in for the game. Ned Halloran came in from Phoenix and Luis Rojas from El Paso. Both have private planes.”
“Where are they staying?” Clayton asked.
“I didn’t ask, but they probably didn’t hang around town.”
“You got phone numbers for them?”
“Yeah.” Staggs got up, found an address book in a lamp-table drawer, read off numbers, and stuffed the address book in a back pocket.
“How well do you know the players who were here last night?” Clayton said, pointing to the chair Staggs had vacated.
Staggs sat back down. “Everybody except Ulibarri are regulars. They been coming since I opened five years ago.”
“Do they always play together?”
Staggs laughed. “It don’t work that way. Players are in the game for the stakes, not friendship. Only the game matters.”
“Have you had any problems with any of them in the past?”
Staggs snorted. “Never. You cause trouble here, you don’t come back. End of story.”
“So, no problems?”
“Nope.”
“Who lost big?” Clayton asked.
“Luis Rojas. He dropped forty grand.”
“Was Ulibarri the big winner?”
“Nope, Ned Halloran was.”
“How did you do?”
Staggs reached for a cigarette and lit it. “With my house percentage, I made a few bucks.” He shot Tredwell a look.
“That’s a good enough answer,” Tredwell said.
“Did Ulibarri ever play here before?”
“No.”
“You let strangers—people you don’t know—sit in on illegal, high-stakes games?” Hewitt asked.
Staggs gave Hewitt a baleful glance. “He found his way here and had the cash. That’s all it takes to get into a game.”
“He didn’t find his way here by himself,” Clayton said. “You told me earlier a man and woman dropped him off.”
“Same thing,” Staggs said, tugging an earlobe.
It was the first sign of nervousness, Clayton noted.
“I also told you that I didn’t recognize them,” Staggs added.
“Isn’t that risky business?” Clayton asked. “Ulibarri shows up with no references, dropped off by strangers. What if he had been a cop?”
Staggs snorted at the idea. “No way. The local cops have never been a problem. They got their heads up their asses.”
Hewitt leaned forward and scratched his forehead. “I don’t get it, Staggs. Three complete strangers show up and that’s okay with you?”
Staggs rubbed his nose, which suggested a lie was coming. “It’s not that hard to find out where the action is. People talk to people, especially about where the good games are. That’s how a reputation gets built.”
“Simple as that?” Clayton said.
Staggs crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Sometimes.”
Clayton read the body language and knew Staggs was still lying. He pushed the issue. “Ulibarri just shows up, brought by strangers.”
Staggs pulled at his earlobe again. “I already said that.”
“An unknown man and woman?”
Staggs shifted sideways in his chair. “How many times do I have to answer that question?”
“Until you stop bullshitting us,” Clayton said. He glanced at Paul Hewitt, who hit the stop button on the tape recorder.
“How much cash do you have in the house?” Hewitt asked.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Tredwell said, quickly facing Hewitt. “What’s the relevance of the question?