“There’s a concert promoter in New York named Santo Bruno. He books all the big acts. Two years ago, Santo offered One-Eyed Pig fifty million dollars to do a reunion tour. I’m talking ten shows, Candy. Guess what happened?”
“What?”
“Nigel said no, and the deal fell apart.”
Candy vaguely remembered seeing it on the news. “Why did he do that?”
Rico flipped on his shades. “Why don’t you ask him?” he said.
23
The afternoon had turned into evening, and still no sign of Gerry.
Valentine sat on his balcony, growing worried. Gerry’s cell phone was in Puerto Rico with Yolanda, and there was no way to reach him. What if something had happened during his meeting with Rico? The phone in the room rang. Valentine ran inside and snatched it up.
“Where have you been?”
“Right where I’ve always been,” Mabel replied. “Someday, Tony, I’m going to convince you to keep your damn cell phone on.”
It was the first time Valentine had ever heard his neighbor swear. He swallowed the snappy retort about to trip off his tongue. Taking his cell phone out, he hit power.
“You just did,” he said.
“Oh, my,” she said. “Did you actually just turn your cell phone on for my benefit?”
“Yup.”
“I’m touched. I left a message for you earlier. Rather than repeat it, why don’t you just pick it up, and hear what I had to say?”
The line went dead. His cell phone beeped, a message waiting in voice mail. He retrieved it and heard Mabel’s voice. “Tony, it’s me. I’ve been trying to reach you. Now, you may not like this, but I made an executive decision an hour ago.”
“Uh-oh,” he said.
“Jacques called. He said the craps dealer admitted to shrinking the casino’s dice. The craps dealer told Jacques he wanted to cut a deal. He said another gang of cheaters was ripping the casino off for a thousand bucks a night at roulette. Jacques had the roulette wheel tested and also watched surveillance tapes of the table, but he didn’t see anything wrong. He wants you to look at the tapes.
“First I said no,” his neighbor said, “knowing how busy you are. But Jacques insisted and said he’d wired your fee to a nearby Western Union office. I called the office, and, yup, the money’s there, so I caved in and said yes. I mean, he
“And a jerk,” Valentine said into the phone.
“So here’s what I had Jacques do,” Mabel said. “He sent an E-mail to your hotel that contains a copy of the surveillance tape of the roulette wheel. Go to the front desk and ask for Jodisue. She’ll retrieve the E-mail from her computer, and you can have a look. And, Tony . . .”
“Yes, Mabel,” he said.
“Start leaving your cell phone on!”
Jodisue was the night manager, a gal his age who’d migrated down from Boston. As she led him back to her office, Valentine spied a half-finished letter on her computer screen and the remains of a club sandwich in a cardboard box on her desk. With eyes in the back of her head, she said, “You hungry?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“Intuition.”
She pointed at an empty chair. As he sat, a bag of potato chips landed in his lap. Opening it, he shoved a handful in his mouth.
Closing out of her document, Jodisue went into E-mail and pulled up Jacques’s missive. There was a note and an attachment.
She double-clicked her mouse on the attachment. “You a cop or something?”
“I’m a consultant,” he said, staring at the static blue screen. “I catch people who cheat casinos.”
“I thought it was the other way around.”
“It’s pretty serious crime. About a hundred million a year alone in Las Vegas, and that’s just the cheating they know about.”
“Don’t you have to be there and actually see it?”
“The surveillance films are usually enough.”
Windows Media Player appeared on her computer screen. Jacques’s film was taking its time downloading. They bantered for several minutes, and Valentine felt like he was dancing. The film began to play. It was of good resolution, and showed a game of roulette with over a dozen players placing bets. Right away, Valentine saw something he didn’t like, and pointed at the screen.
“This guy bothers me,” he said.
The man in question was an employee. His job was to change the players’ cash into chips, which was called the buy-in.
“How come?” Jodisue asked.
“His body language is wrong.”
“Maybe he’s upset about something,” she suggested.
“He wouldn’t bring it with him to work.”
“How can you know that?”
“Casinos are strange places,” he said. “There’s constant energy flowing back and forth. It’s impossible not to get caught up in it. Now, look at the guy. He’s detached himself from the action. He’s on the outside, looking in.”
Jodisue stared at the screen. “You’re very perceptive.”
Valentine thought back to what Jacques had told Mabel. If the cheats were stealing a grand a night, it was probably going out in dribs and drabs, and not in one big killing, where it might be picked up by the cameras.
The film ended. Without being asked, Jodisue moved the cursor over the screen and hit replay. The film started over. This time, Valentine watched the change man to the exclusion of everyone else at the table.
Part of the change man’s job was to deposit the players’ money into a locked drop box. Twice the bills got stuck, and he had to jiggle the plunger to get them down the chute. Valentine leaned back in his chair, convinced he’d made the scam.
“You mind my asking you a question?” Jodisue said.
“Go ahead.”
“The lady who works for you . . .”
“Mabel?”
She nodded. “She your wife?”
Jodisue’s fingers wore no rings, and the framed pictures on her desk contained nothing but panting canines. Another time, another place, he would have taken her out for a milk shake, if for no other reason than to say thanks.
“Yes,” he said.
“That’s what I figured,” Jodisue said.
Back in his room, Valentine lay on the bed and called Mabel. “You still steamed at me?” he asked.
