“How dare you,” Mulvane said.
“I’ll make this real simple,” Winter said. “Anybody threatens or tries to harm Leigh Gardner or her kids, I’ll assume it was you. And I generally act on my assumptions.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Mulvane said, baring his teeth. “I can have your badge.”
“You think I need a badge? You should check me out,” Winter said. “James Winter Massey. People who know anything about me will assure you that I am a man of my word. And I am giving you my word. So if the threat fits, wear it.”
66
Winter stepped out and Pierce Mulvane brushed past him to hurry into the casino, followed by a red-faced Albert White, who had just burst through the stairway door.
“What did you say to Mulvane just now?” Brad asked.
“Not much. I think I got through to him. If he and White haven’t checked me out, they will now. Having a reputation like mine is sometimes a good thing. Hopefully their sources are good, and they’ll get rattled, which is something those fellows aren’t accustomed to. Mulvane will stew some and then he’ll make a move.”
“Well, now I’m a little confused. See, I thought we had a plan that involved wiring Leigh and catching Mulvane forcing the sale. The thing we discussed with Alexa-Federal charges of extortion, uttering threats, maybe murdering Sherry Adams?”
“I changed that plan,” Winter said.
“So I noticed. Why?”
“Mulvane’s smart and he’s never going to say anything incriminating to Leigh. And wiring her would put Leigh in more danger. I’m convinced that he’s done some stupid and criminal crap, and I want him to know that the only way out is through me. It could get intense.”
“This hasn’t been intense?” Brad asked, incredulous.
“Yes, it’s been that, but all of it could pale in comparison to the next day or two. Styer hasn’t left the area, and maybe this will spur Mulvane or White to sic him on me.”
“You seem sure of that,” Brad said.
“Yeah,” Winter said. “Trust me on this stuff. I know how to fuel a fire.”
67
Aside from playing board games, Alexa had never rolled a pair of dice. Right now, she felt as clueless about the goings-on at the craps table as a dog would be about open-heart surgery.
“Here’s the deal,” Jason told her. “You have to place a bet to get a turn at throwing the dice, so I’ll make the bets. You just concentrate on rolling the dice when it’s your turn.”
“Okay,” she said.
Jason Parr put several stacks of chips in the racks before him on the table’s ledge, and with each roll, he reached over and placed them on various marked areas. When it was his turn to throw the dice, he was up thousands of dollars, which he attributed to Alexa’s presence. After he rolled eight times in a row, he kept tossing chips down and when he rolled his point, he won big. He rolled three more times, making his point each time. When he rolled boxcars-double sixes-on the fourth point roll, he placed bets for Alexa as the croupier pushed the dice to her using his L-shaped stick.
“Just throw them hard enough so they hit the back of the table,” he told her. “And don’t change hands with them once you pick them up off the table. You might arrange them on the felt and throw them thinking you can control them, but you can’t.”
“So it’s a crapshoot?” she asked, smiling.
“Sure as shootin’ is,” he said, laughing.
Alexa rolled a nine. Unbelievably, she rolled ten times after that, hitting a nine on the last one. Each roll brought about a flurry of activity from the players, and she watched without any understanding of why the chips were going down and being taken up again. Nobody seemed all that concerned when she crapped out.
“Dang,” Jason said, looking at the long lines of black and yellow chips he had stacked in rows in the racks before him. “Alexa, you’ve put me ahead for the trip. I’m in the black. We’re gonna clean the house out. I got the feeling in my bones.”
“How much are those black and yellow chips worth?” Alexa asked.
“Five,” Parr said.
“Five dollars?” Alexa asked.
“Five hundred,” he replied.
Alexa’s cell phone rang.
She flipped it open.
“We’re leaving,” Winter said into her ear.
“Yes, dear,” she replied. “Two minutes.”
“Aw, don’t tell me,” Jason said.
“I have to go in two minutes.”
“Hey, will y’all let this little gal roll one last time?” he asked the other players.
Everybody at the table clapped their agreement.
Alexa rolled a six.
She watched as Jason Parr took everything he had in the chip racks and placed it in tall stacks around the board. “What are you doing?” she asked in horror.
“Gamblin’!” he said, smiling.
“But…”
“Get it, girl!” someone yelled.
“Roll them bones!” a woman in her sixties, who was wearing a red cowgirl suit, exclaimed.
“Roll,” Jason said.
“Hit that six!” someone yelled. Alexa noticed a red-haired man who looked like an evangelist walking through the casino with Albert White. He stopped behind the croupier, and stared down at the chips on the table. His smile was crooked.
“Mr. Mulvane!” Jason hollered. “Read it and weep!”
Alexa felt sick to her stomach. After rolling a four, a five, a four, an eight, and a three, Alexa rolled a six. While everybody around the table was screaming and celebrating-except the evangelist-looking man, who was smiling insincerely-Alexa moved away unnoticed, making a beeline for the front door.
68
Winter and Brad exited the casino just as a limousine, its windows covered by dark film, rolled to a stop under the portico. An enthusiastic Pierce Mulvane rushed up, flanked by Albert White and the blonde secretary, who was holding an opened notebook, pen poised, awaiting dictation. A man in sunglasses with slicked-back brown hair and a deeply scarred face stood off to the side, scanning the crowd.
Two bellboys, each pushing a bag carrier, appeared and took up positions on the street side of the Lincoln. People on their way in and out of the casino stopped to gawk.
Albert White took out his cell phone, looked at the display and took the call, turning his wide back to the group.
Winter watched as the passenger door opened and two bull-necked security types got out and stood behind
