by James Swain
There were only two bodies lying on the floor. Broken Tooth had taken a powder and made a run for it. Billy said, “He must have bolted. Check the back bedrooms.”
Grimes barked an order, and the posse charged down a hallway into the rear of the house. Broken Tooth had short legs and smoked like a chimney; he wouldn’t get very far. Billy hoped the gaming agents shot him in the back when they caught up with him.
Billy pulled himself off the floor and went to check on Leon. His driver’s eyelids were shut. Billy’s heart skipped a beat, fearing the worst. “Leon, my man. Talk to me.”
Leon cracked an eye. “They done shooting?”
“The rodeo is over.”
“Thank you, Jesus.”
Billy undid the ropes, and Leon ran his hands across his body for bullet wounds. “I’m good. Who are these guys with the shotguns?”
“Gaming board.”
His driver’s voice dropped. “I thought the gaming board was after you.”
“Not today.” Billy stole a glance over his shoulder. Grimes was kneeling beside the bodyguards checking for signs of life and paying Billy and Leon scant attention. Grimes had dropped his guard and had no clue that he was about to be played.
Billy pulled out his cell phone and texted his crew.
You’re on
“Who you talking to?” Leon whispered.
Billy silenced him with a finger to the lips. He was still wired up, and he tore the button off his shirt and tossed it away before edging up to Grimes. The special agent was closing the dead henchmen’s eyelids with his fingertips.
“My driver’s going to be okay,” Billy said.
“Glad to hear it. These assholes weren’t so lucky,” Grimes said.
“Karma’s a bitch. My driver wants something to drink. Okay if I use the kitchen?”
“Be my guest.”
“You want me to get you something?”
“No thanks.”
Billy had a look around the living room. The good-faith money for Night Train and his teammates was somewhere in the house. The trick would be to find it without Grimes noticing. Grimes took out his cell phone and called the on-call ambulance to give them the address. It was all the distraction Billy needed, and he entered the adjacent dining room. Two bulging leather satchels sat on the dining room table. He parted the mouth of each. Stacks of newly printed C-notes stared back at him.
Bingo.
He carried the bags into the kitchen. Opening the interior door to the garage, he pressed the automatic garage door opener above the light switch. The garage door lifted, and he went outside with the money. His crew’s three vehicles were parked by the curb, and the driver’s window of each vehicle came down. His crew looked at him expectantly.
“Leon says hello,” he told them.
Smiles all around. His crew had never looked happier.
Gabe got out and did the exchange with Billy at the curb. Gabe’s two leather bags didn’t look anything like Billy’s bags, but since Grimes hadn’t seen the bags, it didn’t matter.
Billy went over to Cory and Morris’s SUV. “You boys ready?”
“As ready as we’re ever going to be,” Cory said. “Can we back up into the driveway?”
“Don’t see why not.”
Next stop was Pepper’s red BMW, where he stuck his head into the driver’s window.
“You’re up. Get ready to turn some heads,” he said.
Pepper and Misty had dolled themselves up to look like high-priced call girls. Prostitution was illegal in Las Vegas, but you never would have known it scrolling through the thousands of escorts and boy toys advertising their services on the Internet.
Billy walked back into the house and put the new bags on the dining room table. The bags contained half a million dollars of counterfeit money another hustler had paid Billy off with on a shared job. The other hustler had disappeared into the wind, leaving Billy high and dry. Billy had decided to keep the phony money, believing it would one day come in handy.
He grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and returned to the living room. Grimes’s men had caught Broken Tooth and dragged him back in through the rear door of the house. The Chinese gangster had suffered bruises and cuts and lost the fake cap on his signature front tooth. In his hands was his prize cricket in its carrying cage.
He handed Leon the bottled water. Whispering, he said, “We’re going to have visitors. When they come in, start moaning like you’re hurt.”
“Sure, boss,” his driver whispered back.
The doorbell chimed. Grimes said, “That must be the ambulance,” and told the Latino gaming agent to answer it. The Latino agent went to the broken front door. It was still on its hinges, and he gently opened it. Pepper and Misty stood outside, wearing miniskirts and halter tops and showing plenty of skin. They brushed past the Latino agent and entered the foyer.
Leon started moaning. Grimes hurried over to him.
“What’s wrong?” Grimes asked.
“I’m hurting all over,” Leon said.
“Lie on your back on the floor.”
Leon got on the floor and kept up the dying-man routine. Grimes looked genuinely concerned. Leon was a major witness to Grimes’s case and was worthless dead.
Misty and Pepper chatted up the Latino gaming agent. The front door was still open, and Misty shut it with her heel. The gaming agents were effectively tied up. Grimes had to deal with Leon, the Latino agent was busy with Pepper and Misty, and the remaining three agents were babysitting Broken Tooth, leaving Cory and Morris free to move Travis into the trunk of the rental parked in the garage without anyone being the wiser.
“You didn’t call our service asking for two girls?” Pepper asked.
“No, ma’am,” the Latino agent said.
Pepper acted put out. “Then who did?”
“Maybe you have the wrong address,” he said.
“Ah, come on. You sure one of you boys didn’t call?” Misty said playfully.
“Ma’am, we’re with the enforcement division of the Nevada Gaming Board,” the agent said, becoming irritated. “You’re going to have to leave.”
Grimes caught the drift of the conversation and lifted his head. “Carlos, tell those whores to hit the road, or I’ll run them in.”
Pepper and Misty left in a huff. The Latino agent shut the door and returned to the living room. “Maybe one of them called the girls,” he said, indicating the stiffs.
“They’re not much use to them now,” Grimes said. “Make yourself useful and search the place.” To Billy he said, “Does your driver feel good enough to give us a statement?”
Leon had returned to his chair and was sipping the bottled water Billy had brought from the kitchen. Billy said, “Are you up for that?”
“I think I can manage,” Leon said.
“I’m talking about going down to the police station and being questioned for an hour or more,” Grimes said, just to be sure Leon understood. “It’s important that we get your statement while the events of what happened are still fresh in your mind.”
“I’m your man,” Leon said.
“Perfect.” Grimes spoke to Billy. “You, too.”
“I’d be more than happy to give you a statement,” Billy said.
Grimes acted like he’d just won the lottery. The local media always made a fuss when the gaming board busted a notorious cheat trying to rip off the town. Grimes was about to be turned into king for a day; if the gaming board didn’t promote him, one of the casinos would lure him away to run security. The future was looking bright for Frankie boy. Moments later, the Latino gaming agent appeared in the living room.
“Hey, Frank, I just found a dead guy in the garage,” he said.
“Jesus Christ. I’m coming.”
Grimes left the room. Leon lowered his water bottle and gave Billy a hard look.
“Is that who I think it is?” his driver whispered.
“I don’t know who you think it is,” Billy whispered back.
“Travis. I heard him talking to Broken Tooth on the phone.”
“So you know.”
“Yeah. He betrayed us. Good riddance,” his driver whispered.
“Cunningham, get the hell over here!”
Grimes filled the living room doorway, his face livid. Billy swallowed hard and obeyed. He followed Grimes through the kitchen into the garage and immediately saw the problem. The garage door was raised. It had been closed when the gaming agents had raided the house. Grimes had spotted the discrepancy and knew that he’d been set up.
The trunk of the rental was open. Travis’s rigid body lay inside. Grimes grabbed Billy by the collar and pulled the young hustler down so his face was next to the dead man’s.
“Who is this guy? And don’t tell me you don’t know him.”
“So help me God, I’ve never seen him in my life,” Billy said.
THIRTY-NINE
No job ever went perfectly. Cues were missed and lines were flubbed. It was part of the thieving business, and Billy was not going to hold a grudge against Cory and Morris for not shutting the garage door in Broken Tooth’s rented house. Cory and Morris’s assignment had been to stuff Travis in the trunk of the rental and flee the scene, which they’d done. He hadn’t told them to shut the garage door, so the blame rested squarely on his shoulders.
“You sure you don’t know this guy?” Grimes asked suspiciously.
“No sir,” he said.
“Why does my gut tell me that you’re lying?”
“Maybe your lunch isn’t agreeing with you.”
“You’re not funny.”
Grimes pulled Travis’s wallet from the dead man’s back pocket and extracted his ID. Grimes then made a call on his cell phone and ran a background check. Travis had a clean record, and there was nothing that tied him to Billy or to cheating casinos. Grimes ended the call with a scowl on his face. “Stiff’s name is Travis Simpson. Worked as a blackjack dealer for the casinos, doesn’t have a criminal record. How do you know this guy?”
“I don’t know him,” Billy said.
“I think you’re lying. In fact, I’m sure of it. While we were inside the house, those two hookers blocked the front door while your crew put Simpson’s body in the rental. You want me to believe Broken Tooth murdered this guy, but I’m thinking that isn’t the case.”
“I don’t have a crew.”
“My mistake, so sorry. So who shot this poor bastard? Was it you?”
“I didn’t shoot anybody. I don’t even own a gun.”
“If I searched your place, I wouldn’t find a weapon?”
“No sir.”
“Then a member of your crew shot him. Is that the story?”
“I don’t have a crew. Maybe I should call my lawyer.”
“That’s totally up to you.”
“Let me rephrase that. Do you want me to call my lawyer? Because if I do, I won’t give you a statement, and your case will go right down the shitter.”
Grimes snarled like a junkyard dog. “What did you just say?”
“Get the potatoes out of your ears. If you’re going to pin a murder rap on me, I’ll stop helping you. If I do that, then all you have is a recording of Broken Tooth talking about fixing the Super Bowl and no witnesses to back it up. A smart lawyer will get your case tossed.”
Billy had the special agent over a barrel. Without Billy’s statement and later testimony, the case against Broken Tooth could not move forward and would eventually be thrown out. Only this was not the way Billy wanted things to go. If the case blew up, Grimes would resume harassing Mags and ruin her career, and Broken Tooth would be set free and more than likely come after Billy. He decided to shift tactics and play nice.
“Can I make a suggestion?” he asked.
“I’m listening.”
“Before you decide to accuse me of murder, why don’t you check the dead guy’s cell phone? Maybe he was working with Broken Tooth and they talked to each other.”
“Even if they were talking, it doesn’t explain the open garage door.”
“Who knows how the damn thing got open? It’s irrelevant.”
“You are one sneaky son of a bitch, you know that?”
“Check his phone. That’s all I’m asking you to do.”
He was giving Grimes an out. Connect Travis to Broken Tooth and forget the rest. Grimes decided to run with it. The special agent tugged Travis’s cell phone from the dead man’s pants pocket, powered it up, and searched the phone bank.
“Well, look at that,” Grimes said.
“You found something.”
“Sure did. There’s a number in the recent calls that he called nine times in the past three days. And text messages to that number talking about a fix.”
“A sports fix?”
“Yeah.”
“The Super Bowl?”
“It sure reads that way.”
“My driver was kidnapped Sunday night. Are there any text messages or calls before then?”
“There are. So what?”
“The guy in the trunk was talking to Broken Tooth before I got involved. He and Broken Tooth had a disagreement, and this poor guy got whacked.”
“Is that the story you want me to believe?”
“Come up with a better one.”
“I still don’t know who this number belongs to.”
“Call it and find out.”
“You’re just filled with good ideas, aren’t you?”
“Just trying to help.”
Grimes called the repeated number on Travis’s cell phone. As the call went through, Grimes entered the house through the kitchen with Billy on his heels. The unmistakable sound of a ringing cell phone pierced the air, and Grimes followed it into the living room, where Broken Tooth’s sleek black cell phone lay on the couch. It was invisible, save for its flashing screen. The special agent picked it up and stared at it.
“Is it a match?” Billy asked.
In police work, there were always loose ends and unanswered questions. Except when the situation was a setup. Grimes knew this and so did Billy. But that didn’t change things. Grimes had enough evidence to put Broken Tooth away for the rest of his life.
Broken Tooth sat miserably in a chair, looking defeated. Without his henchmen to do his bidding, Broken Tooth was a shell, lacking the power to threaten or coerce. His prized cricket sat on the floor in its carrying cage, beating its wings together the way crickets did.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Travis Simpson,” Grimes told him.
Broken Tooth stared at the special agent for what seemed like an eternity.
“Lying bastard. I didn’t kill anyone,” Broken Tooth said.
“Watch your mouth. You killed Travis Simpson and put his body in the trunk of your rental. Or your men did. Really doesn’t matter, because you’re in charge.”
“Dirty fucking cop! This is setup,” Broken Tooth said.
Grimes had a short fuse. He moved to smack Broken Tooth in the kisser, then had a change of heart and kicked the carrying cage that lay on the floor. The door popped open, and the cricket hopped out and began scurrying across the floor, moving as fast as its six legs would carry it. Grimes put his size twelve directly over the helpless insect. The cricket froze, a goner.
“Don’t,” Broken Tooth begged.
Grimes ground the insect into the carpet, grinning perversely.
FORTY
The gaming agents split up. While the posse transported Broken Tooth to the jail in old downtown in the van, Grimes climbed into the back of the ambulance and took Leon to the ER at Summerlin Hospital Medical Center to get checked out with Billy accompanying them.
The staff at Summerlin wasted no time going to work on Leon. Leon’s nose was broken, and he had four cracked ribs that made breathing difficult. His heart rate was also elevated, and the doctor in charge suggested that Leon stay the night.
“I want to sleep in my own bed,” Leon said. “I haven’t seen it in a while.”
> The doctor prescribed medication that would help Leon sleep and wished him a speedy recovery. Leon climbed into a wheelchair, and Billy wheeled him out of the ER. Grimes had not left Leon’s side and seemed genuinely pleased that Leon was going to be okay.
“Are you still up to giving a statement tonight?” Grimes asked. “We really need to hear your side of things while it’s still fresh in your mind.”
“I can do that,” Leon said. “Can we stop and get some food? I’m starving.”
“Not a problem. What’s your pleasure?” Grimes asked.
“Anything but Chinese.”
A cruiser picked them up and took them to the jail, stopping at a BK on the way. Leon hadn’t lost his appetite, and his order set Grimes back twenty bucks. Grimes didn’t seem to care; the gold ring was in his grasp, and he was not going to let it out of his sight.
When Las Vegas was originally built, the founding fathers had deliberately not built a jail, preferring to use the decrepit police station in old downtown to process criminals. This way, tourists visiting the Strip were not exposed to the town’s underbelly, the offenders shoved into police cruisers and whisked away from the neon playground.
The jail was a toilet. Tiny cells, bad food, über-mean cops. Leon gave his statement in a second-floor interrogation room while Billy sat on a stiff wooden bench in the hall. It felt strange to be here not wearing handcuffs.
Billy was up next. Grimes focused on Broken Tooth approaching Billy to fix the Super Bowl and how Leon ended up being kidnapped when Billy refused to play along. Grimes was building his case, and he kept his questions straightforward and simple. As they neared the end of the questioning, one of the gaming agents from the posse entered the interrogation room and whispered in Grimes’s ear. Grimes shut off the tape recorder sitting on the table.
“You and your driver need to wait downstairs,” Grimes said.
Billy hated being in the jail. He’d been brought here many times for questioning. Even though the charges had never stuck, every employee of the jail knew who he was.