once in a while.
I’m sure that’s where he was. Or in a bar somewhere. Just like I told his mother. This prickly little ball of dread rolling up and down my back, that was just a product of my overworked imagination. God knows I had every right to it by now.
The casino is on the Bay Mills reservation, just north of Brimley. No big sign in front, no lights all over the place. The outside is all cedar, the inside is all high wooden beams and ceiling fans. It looks nothing at all like a casino, not like in Vegas or Atlantic City where they try to dazzle you into coming inside and staying. Only the noise is the same, that distinctive casino noise that hits you as soon as you walk into the place. The slot machines with that hollow electronic music, the coins hitting the metal trays, a payoff somewhere in the room every few seconds. The keno wheel spinning and clacking, slower and slower until it stops. Dealers calling out every exchange of money for chips, the pit bosses answering. A thousand voices at once, begging for the right card or the right turn on the roulette wheel, celebrating, cursing, winning, losing. You just stand in the middle of the room for five minutes, that noise starts to make sense. It starts calling your name. Tonight’s your night, it says. As long as you’re in this room, nothing can touch you. You’re better than everybody else. You’re smarter, you’re luckier. You deserve to be a winner.
A guy like Edwin doesn’t stand a chance here.
They had about twenty blackjack tables going, a Bay Mills tribe member standing at each one, dealing the cards with detached precision. I didn’t see Edwin at any of them. I pulled a pit boss over and asked him if Edwin Fulton had been in. I knew he’d know the name.
“Just got here myself,” he said. “Let me go ask somebody else.”
I watched a few hands of blackjack while he was away. The players were a strange mix of downstaters. One man was wearing the kind of clothes you only see in casinos anymore: the polyester blue sport coat, the pinkie ring, the tie as wide as a lobster bib. The man next to him looked like he walked right out of the woods: the mandatory orange pants and jacket, the hunting license pinned to his back. They were both pushing piles of chips onto the table and staring at the cards as though they were hypnotized. I wondered if they pumped extra oxygen into the air here like they do in Vegas, just to keep the bettors from getting tired.
The pit boss reappeared. “Mr. Fulton was here,” he said. “He left about two hours ago. I understand he made quite a little performance on his way out.”
“Oh beautiful,” I said. “You guys didn’t throw him out the window or anything, did you? Not that I’d blame you.”
“I wouldn’t know. Like I said, I wasn’t here.”
“Is Vinnie LeBlanc here? Red Sky? I’m sorry, I don’t know what he calls himself here. He lives down the road from me.”
“Red Sky, huh? He’s gonna hear about that one. No, I think he’s on his dinner break. He should be back soon.”
I thanked the man and left. When I was outside I took a deep breath of the night air. The casino sounds were still buzzing in my head. From the west I caught a blast of cold wind that smelled like rain.
I raced down Six Mile Road toward the city, hoping I was right behind him on his rounds through the casinos. Just before I got there, my cellular phone rang. I had a good idea who it was, but I picked it up anyway.
“McKnight, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Chief Maven, what a pleasant surprise.”
“You’re supposed to be in your cabin.”
“I’ll be there. I just have to find Edwin first.”
“Goddamn it, McKnight, are the two of you queer for each other or something?”
“Would that upset you, Chief? That I was already taken?”
“Go fuck yourself, McKnight.”
“You have a nice night, too, Chief.”
The casino was just up ahead. I hung up before he could say another word.
The Kewadin Casino is right in Sault Ste. Marie, on a little piece of land owned by the Sault tribe. They’re Chippewas just like the Bay Mills tribe, but they’re less traditional and less restrictive on the bloodlines. And they have a lot less restraint when they build casinos. The Kewadin is huge, with giant triangles on the front that are supposed to remind you of tepees. You can see that damned thing ten miles away. It has a four-star hotel, live entertainment every night, the works.
I looked at my watch. It was almost nine o’clock. Okay, Edwin, you’ve got to be here somewhere. They threw your ass out of the other place and this is the only other game in town. I started working my way up the rows of blackjack tables. I knew I had to hit them all, even the five-dollar tables, because that’s where he liked to start, see how the cards were falling that night. I remembered telling him once that he should just throw five- dollar bills out his car window on the way there. The effect would be the same.
I didn’t see any sign of him. I took a quick look through the roulette tables and the craps tables. Sometimes out of desperation he’d go give them a try when he felt his luck needed a little jolt. I didn’t see him anywhere.
I didn’t know what to do. I walked back and forth between the two big rooms, looking at all the blackjack tables again. I slowed down near the horse-racing game, watched that for a couple minutes. There were a good twenty people gathered around it, one in every chair, watching the little mechanical horses go around the track. The horses weren’t more than two inches tall, probably driven by magnets under the table, and yet these people were screaming at them like it was the Kentucky Derby. On another night I would have found it pretty damned hilarious.
I got in the truck and drove all the way back to the Bay Mills Casino, hoping to catch Vinnie this time. I spotted him at one of the blackjack tables and sat down. The woman next to me had a nice little pile of five-dollar chips going. Her husband stood over her shoulder, obviously ready to offer his expert advice.
“Alex,” he said, barely looking up from the cards. “Good to see you. You come to clean us out?”
“I wouldn’t want to break this place,” I said. “Then you’d be out of a job. Actually, I was just looking for Edwin Fulton. The pit boss told me he was here around dinner time. Did you see him?”
He smiled and rolled his eyes. “Oh, I saw him,” he said. He dealt two cards to the woman and then waited for her decision. Her husband leaned in and told her to take a card. She waved him away like a mosquito.
“He left here about when, six o’clock?”
“Sounds about right,” he said. “He was not a happy man.” The woman said she was good, thank you. The husband threw his hands in the air. Vinnie turned up his cards, drew to his fifteen, and busted. He matched the woman’s chips while her husband massaged her shoulders. “Alex, you gonna play a hand here at least while we’re talking? You’re gonna get me in trouble.”
I slid him a ten-dollar bill. “Give me two chips.”
“I don’t know if we can handle that much, Alex. I’m gonna have to call the man for more chips.”
“You’re one funny Indian,” I said. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Same thing as always,” he said, dealing the cards. “He lost a ton, he drank a ton, he got ugly, we booted him.”
“That much I heard already.”
“You know, if it wasn’t for that losing a ton part, I don’t think they’d even let him in the door anymore.”
“Any idea where he went? Did he say he was going home or anything?”
“I don’t know. They did offer to call him a cab so he didn’t have to drive. He said he had a chauffeur waiting outside.”
“He doesn’t have a chauffeur,” I said.
“I didn’t think so. I guess he was just trying to show off.”
“All right. Thanks, Vinnie.”
“Do the guy a favor, eh? The next time he feels like playing blackjack, lock him in his room. Hey, you want a card here or what?”
I doubled on the seven and four, drew a ten for twenty-one.
“Looks like the cards are going your way,” he said as he paid me.
I slid the chips right back at him. I needed to get back out there to look for Edwin, wherever he might be. I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I found him, until I knew he was safe at home with his goddamned wife where he
