“In a car, yeah.”
Valentine didn’t like it. If the Cubans were waiting, they might follow them and start shooting. He said, “How far is your place?”
“About half a mile.”
Valentine killed the cab’s headlights and rumbled down the road. The engine sounded like it was about to hit the ground, and he had a feeling that the Cubans would hear them even if they didn’t see them. The road was on a steep incline, and he killed the engine and left it in neutral. The cab rolled silently down the hill.
They passed Valentine’s rental house, then came upon Ricky’s place. The black SUV sat in the driveway, its front end pointing toward the street. Beneath the moonlight Valentine could see exhaust coming out of the muffler.
“That’s them,” Ricky whispered fearfully. “Gun it.”
Valentine considered it. They’d get a jump on the Cubans, but that was all they’d get. Even an SUV weighted down by four men could catch this clunker. He brought the cab to a stop in the middle of the road. Taking the Glock off his lap, he lowered his window and took aim. He thought about putting a bullet through the SUV’s engine, then realized the Glock wasn’t powerful enough to do that.
“Oh, Jesus, can’t we just get out of here?” Ricky said.
Valentine shook his head. He had to assume that the Cubans had scoped out the neighborhood and knew that this was the only escape route. He had to stop them right now or risk never talking to Mabel or chewing out Gerry or changing his granddaughter’s diaper again.
“No,” he added for emphasis.
“You going to shoot them?”
Valentine nodded. “Does that bother you?”
“Yeah. I never bargained for this.”
“You know these guys?”
“Yeah.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Just do as I say,” Valentine said.
Ricky brought his hands up to his eyes. It was something a little kid might do. Valentine turned and stared at the SUV idling in the driveway. He rested his left forearm on the windowsill and balanced the Glock on it. The SUV’s windshield was dark, and he had to imagine where the driver was sitting.
An ember of light appeared. The driver was smoking a cigarette. It made a nice target, and he put it into the Glock’s sight and squeezed the trigger.
The gun barked. Then the SUV’s windshield imploded. As the glass fell inward, the Cubans screamed and dived to the floor. Except for the driver. It was Juan, and he remained strapped in his seat, the burning cigarette glued to his lower lip. The bullet had whacked him in the forehead. Like the boys in the bank, he’d never seen it coming.
Valentine started the cab’s engine and floored the accelerator.
“You can open your eyes now,” he said.
35
For a guy who’d just gotten shot in the arm, Lamar was all smiles at the Gulfport hospital. He joked with the nurses and doctors in the emergency room and with Gerry, who’d ridden in the ambulance with him.
“Know why the police can’t solve redneck murders?”
Gerry shook his head.
“The DNA’s all the same, and there are no dental records.”
His demeanor was no different when Isabelle showed up. With a smile he pointed at Gerry and said, “Huck was shooting at
Isabelle somehow found it in her to smile. “The police think Huck’s hiding with relatives. They’re going to search every trailer park until they find him.” She glanced at Gerry. “You need to lay low.”
“I thought that was what I was doing,” Gerry said.
“Out of sight. We’ll keep you at the house with a police guard.”
Gerry nodded. The doctor was stitching up Lamar’s arm. The bullet from Huck’s rifle had torn out a slice of flesh that would probably never grow back. Gerry felt his stomach turn over and saw Lamar wink at him.
“You bring the trash can from the casino?” Lamar asked.
Isabelle reached into the floppy bag slung over her shoulder and produced a small metal trash can filled with used tissues. She handed it to Gerry. “This came from table seventeen. The casino has been losing a lot of money there.”
Gerry took the trash can and pushed aside the top tissues with his fingers. The dealer obviously had a real bad cold. On the bottom of the can were fifteen playing cards, just like his father had said. He stuck the can under his arm and thanked her for bringing it.
“I need to go back to the casino,” she said. “A detective named Clarkson will come by later and take you back to the house. He also wants to ask you some questions about Huck Dubb.”
“I don’t know anything about the guy,” Gerry said.
“Maybe not. But Huck knew where to find you. Clarkson is trying to figure out how. He’ll try to jog your memory, if that’s okay.”
Gerry had been wondering about that himself. The parking lot had been empty when he and Lamar had gone into the trailer, yet Huck had somehow tracked him down.
“Sure.”
“Good. I’ll see you back at the house.”
She gave her husband a smooch on the lips and left. Lamar stared at the spot where she’d been standing and smiled. Gerry didn’t think he’d ever seen a greater love in a man’s eyes than was in Lamar’s. After the nurses and doctor were gone, Lamar said, “First time I met Isabelle, she was wearing a red blouse in the casino. I explained to her that the surveillance cameras see right through red fabric, and the boys upstairs were admiring her. Know what she did?”
Gerry shook his head.
“She found out how long I’d been on the job. It was my first day. So she knew I hadn’t been watching her. I asked her out the next week.” He pointed at the trash can. “You still think you’re going to win that bet?”
“Sure do,” Gerry said.
Lamar yelled through the curtains separating them from Kent and Boomer.
“Hey, boys, get your wallets and get in here. It’s show-time.”
It was a miracle that all three men’s wounds were superficial. They knew it, and exchanged plenty of good- natured ribbing and high-fiving. Then Gerry made them take their money out, and the laughter subsided.
Gerry got a second trash can and carefully removed the tissues from the can Isabelle had brought from the casino. When he was done, he pointed at the handful of playing cards lying in the bottom of the casino trash can. He said, “See these cards? They’re from the blackjack game at table seventeen. They’re all babies.”
Babies were low-valued cards, the twos through sixes, and favored the house.
“How do you know that without looking at them?” Lamar asked.
“It’s how the scam works,” Gerry said. He shook the can, and the cards flipped faceup. As he’d predicted, they were all babies. “Here’s the deal. The dealer is required to spread all the cards faceup on the table before he starts. That way, the players—and the cameras—can see that all the cards are there. If any high cards were missing, the house’s edge would be unbeatable. If babies were missing, the players would have the edge.
“So the dealer starts with all the cards. But he has a cold. So he puts a box of tissues on his table. That’s his shade.”
“His what?” Boomer asked.
“Shade. It’s a hustler’s term for misdirection. The dealer is palming babies out and dropping them in the
