several, and used them to block off the exit. Hearing the screech of burning rubber, he lifted his head.
A white SUV had jumped onto a concrete median. It side-swiped a mini-van filled with people, then returned to the macadam. A valet ran toward it, waving frantically at the driver. The SUV sped up, and the valet dove out of its path.
Valentine froze in his tracks. The SUV was coming straight for him. Bronco was manning the wheel, Rebecca Klinghoffer riding shot, the kid strapped in back. He dropped the cones in his hands, and looked for someplace to hide.
There was none. He was a goner. He looked right at Bronco, and their eyes locked. He’d been chasing Bronco for as long as he could remember, making the guy’s life miserable every step of the way. Not the kind of thing to build a friendship over. When the SUV was on top of him, he dove instinctively to the ground.
The wheels passed inches from his head. Hugging the ground felt good, and he heard the SUV hit its brakes. It started to back up, and Valentine tried to roll away. Only, there wasn’t anyplace to roll away too.
From the car, he heard Rebecca Klinghoffer’s son screaming. The kid had Pavoratti’s lungs. It reminded Valentine of his granddaughter, who could scream so loud it set your hair on end. He braced himself to be run over, then heard Gerry’s voice.
“Don’t move, Pop!”
He lifted his head. A Cadillac Escalade leapt out of the line. It drove directly over Valentine, its wheels missing his body on both sides, then braked. It prevented the SUV from backing up onto him. Bronco hit the gas, and roared out of the valet stand.
Valentine crawled out from beneath the sports car. His son helped him to his feet, and brushed his father off.
“You okay, Pop?”
His son had been hell to raise, but was starting to make up for it.
“Never been better,” he said.
Chapter 37
Mabel’s cell phone rang as she was passing through downtown Tampa. It was Running Bear, and he was pouting. She hated when men did that.
“I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel safe in that room,” she said.
“I would trust the elders with my life,” he said. “They are honest men.”
“What about the bird tattoos on the lead elder’s hand?” she asked.
“What about it?”
“Your crooked dealer has the same tattoo. I think they’re related.”
“Not all. The bird is an old symbol among the Micanopys. It means may your crops prosper. Many tribal members wear those tattoos on their hands.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry I overreacted.”
“There is no need to apologize. May I make a suggestion? Lets take the elders to the surveillance control room, and show them a tape of our crooked dealer in action. If they see him deal off the bottom, perhaps they’ll be convinced.”
“You want me to come back?”
“Please, Mr. Struck.”
“Only if you protect me,” Mabel said.
The chief laughed softly into the phone. “Of course.”
Patience, Mabel knew, was more than just a virtue.
The first day she’d worked for Tony, he’d sat her down at his kitchen table, then gone into the other part of the house to get something. Mabel had watched the birds through the back window. Five minutes had passed, then ten. Annoyed, she’d started to get up. Tony returned, and sat down across from her.
“The first thing you have to learn in this business is patience,” he’d said.
So Mabel had taught herself how to be patient. It wasn’t easy. She was the type of person who wanted everything done yesterday. But over time she’d learned.
The situation at the Micanopy casino was a perfect example of being patient. She, Running Bear and the elders were crammed into a corner of the surveillance control room, watching a video of the crooked poker dealer taken several night ago. Ten minutes passed without anyone saying a word.
“There,” Mabel said, pointing at the screen. “Did you see that?”
The seven elders of the Micanopy nation leaned forward. So did Running Bear, who’d been leaning against the wall.
“See what?” asked Bill Bowlegs, the lead elder.
“Your dealer is staring at the discards on the table. He’s looking for certain cards. The way he paused is a dead giveaway. Can you freeze the frame?”
Bowlegs called to a technician. “Freeze it.”
The tape stopped. Mabel pointed at the discards. “There’s the Ace of Hearts and the Ace of Spades. As he picks up the discards, he’ll control those cards.”
“Play it,” Bowlegs called out.
The tape resumed playing. They watched the crooked dealer place the two aces on the bottom of the deck, then shuffle around them.
“Damn,” Bowlegs said. “I see what you mean.”
The other elders nodded. So did Running Bear.
“Let’s call him off the floor, and have a talk with him,” Bowlegs suggested.
Mabel put her hand on Bowleg’s sleeve. Every man in the room looked at her.
“May I make a suggestion?” she asked.
Bowlegs said yes with his eyes.
“We still don’t know what the scam is. I suggest you let him continue to deal, and watch him. Sooner or later, he’ll try it again, and then you’ll know.”
“You’re a smart lady, Ms. Struck.”
Mabel flashed her best southern smile. It was the first nice thing he or any of the other elders had said to her. “We’ll see about that,” she said.
An hour later, the crooked dealer made his move.
Cheating at poker was different than cheating casino games. Every casino game had a set limit on how much you could wager. As a result, a casino cheater had to beat a game many times in order to make any money. Poker was different: All a cheater had to do was win one big pot.
The game was seven card stud, with the first two cards dealt facedown. They had watched the crooked dealer pause as he was picking up the discards, and place four kings on the bottom. He shuffled around the kings, then dealt two rounds, dealing kings off the bottom to the player on his immediate right. The elders emitted a collective gasp.
“I’ll be damned,” Bowlegs said.
The game progressed, with the dealer dealing rounds of faceup cards to the players, with betting going on between rounds. When the fifth and sixth rounds were dealt, the dealer again dealt a pair kings off the bottom to the player on his right.
Bowlegs whistled through his teeth. “That pays a bonus.”
“What pays a bonus?” Mabel asked.
“Four kings. The casino pays a ten thousand dollar bonus to any player that gets four of a kind.”
Mabel drew back in her chair. Tony had always told her the bigger the crime, the bigger the crook. “So that’s
