He removed his overcoat from the back of his chair and got up from the table. “Tell Archie I'll send him my bill.”
“I know he appreciates everything you've done,” she said.
“I'm sure he does,” he replied.
23
Shaft, The First Version
Valentine couldn't believe it: Gerry and Yolanda were gone. He knocked on the door to his son's hotel room again, just to be sure. Then saw the hand-written note lying on the ground. Kneeling, he picked it up.
“You dope,” Valentine said. He heard the phone ringing in his room as he unlocked the door. There was only one person he felt like talking to right now, and that was Mabel. Taking a chance, he answered the phone and was rewarded by the sound of her cheerful voice.
“You're going to be so proud of me,” she said.
“What did you do?”
“I solved my first case.”
He made the bed sag and unbuttoned his coat.
“Tell me.”
“Well, you got a FedEx package this morning marked urgent, so I figured I better open it. Inside was a letter from a joint in Laughlin, Nevada, called Lucky Lill's, and a check for two hundred dollars. Lill wrote the letter herself. She sounded desperate.”
Valentine couldn't help but smile. Mabel had called the place a joint. Casinos with names like Lucky Lill's
“I know two hundred dollars is below your minimum fee, but you know how I am about money. So I figured maybe I could help her. Lill's husband died a few months ago and left the casino to her. Lill doesn't know much about gambling. She sent a surveillance tape of three Asian men who beat her for five thousand dollars at blackjack. I watched the tape for hours and figured out they were card counting.”
“You sure?”
“I'm positive.”
“How?”
“One of the books in your library said that the best way to spot card counters is by bet fluctuation, so I wrote down how the Asians bet. Any time they quadrupled their bets, I got suspicious. I wrote down the time showing on the surveillance tape, then rewound it and played the tape back. Then I wrote down which cards came out of the shoe. They were all high-valued. Which meant they were counting.”
There were easier ways to spot counters, but Mabel's method would do in a pinch. She was right: He was proud of her.
“You tell Lill this?”
“I most certainly did. She was most appreciative.”
“Congratulations,” he said.
“I assume you've decided to stay in Atlantic City and finish your job.”
“I have. Thanks for the pep talk yesterday.”
“You're welcome. One last thing. Detective Davis called about an hour ago. He said if you didn't call him by three o'clock, he was going to track you down and have you arrested. I assume he's joking.”
“Of course he's joking.” He glanced at his watch. It was a quarter till three. What had he done wrong now? He started to sign off, then said, “You did good, kid.”
“You think I have a future?”
“I sure do,” he said.
He called Davis on his cell phone and caught the detective driving in his car. Davis did not sound happy. They agreed to meet at the IHOP.
Ten minutes later Valentine pulled into the vacant lot and parked. Locking the .38 in the glove compartment, he went inside.
Dottie, his least favorite waitress, was manning the register, an impossibly long ash dangling from her cigarette. He'd never come back for his change, and he stopped at the counter.
“Remember me?”
“Nope.”
“I was in the other day with my son. I gave you a hundred-dollar bill for breakfast; you said you didn't have any change. Told me to come back later.”
“Wasn't me,” Dottie said.
“Sure it was.”
“Look mister . . .”
“I want my change,” he said irritably. “The meal was nine bucks. Add a buck tip, and you owe me ninety dollars.”
“I'm telling you, it wasn't me.”
Valentine could tell where this was going. He should have come back immediately and not let Dottie write him off. In the back counter mirror he saw Davis's Thunderbird pull in. The detective came through the front door with a stern look on his face, his designer shades vanishing into his breast pocket. He was wearing hip-hugger jeans and a black leather jacket and looked just like he'd stepped off a movie set. Valentine motioned him over.
“Dottie, this is my friend Eddie.”
“Hi,” she said stiffly.
“Hello, Dottie,” the detective said.
“Dottie and I have a little disagreement,” Valentine said, “which you could settle by showing her your credentials.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your badge.”
Davis flipped open his wallet and stuck his silver detective's badge in the mean-spirited woman's face. Dottie changed colors, her waxy cheeks glowing red. Davis kept the badge out, and Valentine sensed that he was enjoying himself. Maybe he'd come in for coffee once and Dottie had been slow serving him. Or hadn't bothered serving him at all. That kind of crap went on every day in America.
“So what do you think?” Valentine asked her.
The no sale flag appeared on the register. Dottie counted ninety dollars into his waiting palm. Valentine handed her two dollars back. “Two coffees, when you get a chance.”
“I hope she's not in the back pissing in our cups,” Davis said as they slid into the farthest booth from the counter. “I've seen that one before.”
“Why don't you ask her?” Valentine suggested.
“You're just filled with good ideas, you know that?”
Their coffee came, Dottie bringing giant mugs and pouring from a fresh pot, treating them like normal customers. Davis spooned cream and sugar into his mug, then said, “I thought you told me yesterday you were going to apologize to Kat Berman.”
So that was what this was about. Feeling relieved, Valentine said, “I got sidetracked.”
“Well, she called the station this morning. The call got transferred to me. I told her we'd spoken, and how sorry you were. I
Davis was starting to grow on him. He said, “Did she give you a number where I can reach her?”
“You're not getting off that easy,” Davis said.
“What do you mean?”
“I called her ten minutes ago and told her I was meeting you here. She'll be by soon. You can apologize to her in person.”
Valentine's cheeks grew warm. He felt like he was six years old and his mother had just scolded him. “I really
