Don't Look Twice

by Andrew Gross

  “What were Kramer and Sanger up to, Mr. Raines?” Hauck asked, growing tired of dancing around.

  “Almost there.” Raines smiled. “There’s one more technique I didn’t mention. It’s called a false shuffle. A dealer, say one motivated to participate in such a scam, slips a series of prerecorded, unshuffled cards on the top of his deck. It’s called a slug.”

  Raines took out a handheld remote control. He flicked it toward the screen at the desk where he and Hauck were stationed. A video recording came on. It was of a man in an open shirt and blazer at a table with his back to the screen. Short hair, sunglasses. He was the single player at the table. Blackjack. The dealer was a middle-aged man with bushy graying hair and thick black glasses, in his uniform of a white shirt and red vest. The first hand, the player with his back to the camera lost. He took a sip of his drink. The next hand, he drew nineteen. Won. A light bettor. Only a couple of chips.

  The next hand he upped his bet significantly.

  To Hauck it appeared he pushed in several thousand dollars, though he wasn’t familiar with all the denominations. This time, the player was dealt two face cards. Bingo. To Hauck’s surprise, he left all his winnings on the table and the dealer dealt again. Blackjack, this time. The man in the blazer quietly raked in his winnings. Thousands. Then he stepped away from the table. All in all, it took less than one minute.

  As he did, for the first time Hauck could see his face.

  It was David Sanger.

  It was like a jackhammer bludgeoned him. He’d been so focused on the dealer and what Raines was trying to show him, he hadn’t seen.

  The security chief stood up and flicked off the screen. A haughty smile on his face that at the same time was both condescending and all-knowing.

  “Why don’t you go up to your room for a bit and relax. I’ll meet you down in the casino in the blackjack section at eight o’clock. I’ll give you a glimpse of what you’re after there, firsthand.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Hauck’s room was large, on the thirty-second floor, with a huge Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom and a wide-screen TV. The view looked out over the river. It was dark and all Hauck could see were flickering lights. A pretty floor concierge escorted him down the hall and handed him his key.

  Hauck stretched out on the bed and flipped on CNN on the TV. A cyclone was ravaging the Pacific, near the Philippines, killing thousands. A report from Baghdad showed a grown man crying that his family still did not have power. “How do you expect us to work?” he raged. “I ran a cement factory. Now I’m a ditch digger…”

  He tried to absorb what he had just seen. Sanger and Kramer—friends from college; had they been hooked up in some kind of elaborate betting scheme? Had they gotten together to cheat the casino?

  A United States attorney?

  Hauck thought back to Sanger’s hidden bank account. It pained him a little—from what he knew of him, from what his wife had told him and what he had seen at the funeral—that this seemingly “good” guy, a person of dedication and achievement, a devoted dad, could have been caught up in something like this. It was dangerous business, taking on a casino. Casinos have their own way of dealing with things.

  Still, it didn’t justify getting them killed.

  Before eight, he put on a white shirt and corduroy jacket and made his way downstairs. At the entrance to the casino off the lobby, he was hit by the loud jangle of slot machines turning, the chime of bets paying off, the smell of cigarette smoke.

  He wound through the crowded maze of tables and bettors and found the blackjack section. He spotted Raines in between tables, chatting with one of the staff.

  The security chief saw him and came over. “Had a nice rest? How’s the room? Okay?”

  “Just fine.” Hauck didn’t much relish the idea of accepting any of the casino’s courtesies. “You said you were going to show me firsthand?”

  Raines grinned. “Always work, huh? C’mon, I’ve got a table waiting over here.”

  He took Hauck to a nearby blackjack table. There was a twenty-dollar minimum bet. The table was empty and there was an attractive female dealer who seemed to be waiting for them.

  “You play?” Raines inquired, motioning for Hauck to take a seat.

  “Nickels and dimes.” Hauck shrugged, pulling out a chair across from the cute dealer, casting her a polite smile.

  “This is Josie,” Raines said, taking a seat next to Hauck. “She’s actually working here while she gets her degree. This is Lieutenant Hauck, Josie. From Greenwich, right? The lieutenant here is looking to learn a little bit about certain dealing techniques we discussed.”

  The pretty dealer nodded. She had long brown hair braided back in an unassuming style. What seemed like a sexy figure hidden under her plain white blouse and vest. Liquid brown eyes.

  “How’re you doing today?” she said to Hauck, almost businesslike, and began to deftly shuffle together several decks.

  “I’m doing fine, thanks, Josie.”

  Raines removed some chips from his jacket and pushed them in front of Hauck. He laid out two even stacks. “Nickels and dimes, you said. Here’s a little stake from the hotel. For demonstration purposes only, of course…” He patted him on the back.

  The nickels were six brown fifty-dollar chips, and the dimes were two black hundreds.

  Hauck looked at Raines uncomfortably.

  He kept his eye on Josie as she raked in the cards from the shoe and reshuffled them into the new, large deck. Hauck wasn’t exactly a studied eye—he’d played a little poker in college—but he didn’t spot anything irregular. Neatly, Josie merged the decks into the shoe.

  “Cut, Lieutenant?”

  “Sure.” Hauck cut the deck in half in the middle.

  Raines tapped the table. “Place your bet.”

  Hauck pushed forward a chip. A fifty. The lowest he had.

  Josie dealt out a ten and then a seven. Seventeen. She showed an eight. Raines shifted around his chair to face him.

  “Good.” Hauck held up his hand.

  Raines said, “Our guest stays pat.”

  Josie turned over her hole card. A jack. Eighteen. She didn’t react. Raines sighed and twitched his mustache. “Bad luck, Lieutenant. Try again.”

  “Your funds.” Hauck shrugged resignedly.

  He pushed across another fifty. This time Hauck was dealt a nine and a five. Josie showed a king. He looked at her as if he could spot some clue in her eyes. He brushed his fingers toward him, indicating another card. She turned over an eight.

  He busted.

  Josie’s pink polished nails gathered in his chip. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

  She shot a quick glance toward Raines. The security man said, “I’m not sure our guest has found his rhythm.”

  Hauck put forward another chip. This time, Raines took ahold of his arm. His gaze carried a steely importance to it. “Why not show a little confidence this time, Lieutenant?”

  On the bet line, he stacked all of Hauck’s remaining chips.

  Four hundred dollars.

  Josie dealt Hauck a queen and a king. She showed a seven. Hauck stuck, of course, and she rolled over a ten. Seventeen.

  “Lucky you!” Raines exclaimed, as if impressed. “What do you say, why not let it run again, Lieutenant?”

  There was a manipulative sort of arrogance about the security chief Hauck didn’t like. Not even a hint of uncertainty in his question. He smiled conspiratorially.

  Hauck shrugged. “Your money.”

  Raines nodded and Josie dealt Hauck an eight and a three, turned over a six for herself.

  Hauck paused. Eleven. The odds said he should double down.

  “Have a little faith.” Raines grinned. From his pocket he removed another large handful of chips. He stacked them next to Hauck’s and began to count them out, matching the total for him to double down.

  That meant sixteen hundred dollars on the table.

  “Go ahead.” Raines nodded to Josie. Her eyes met Hauc
k’s and she turned over a nine. That made twenty. She flipped over an ace underneath. Seventeen.

  Hauck was a winner. He made a move to pull in his chips.

  “Leave it!” Raines said again. He had his hand on Hauck’s wrist. Both sets of their eyes went to it. He nodded to Josie.

  This time, she flipped Hauck an ace and then a queen. Blackjack. That paid one and a half to one. She met his eyes, no attempt at surprise in them, and stacked out two large piles of chips, this time mostly blacks and purple.

  Thousands.

  “A cinch, isn’t it?” Raines said. “You see how fast it adds up when you’re dealt with cards from a prearranged slug…”

  Hauck looked at Josie. “You inserted it in at the top of the shuffle.”

  “Not at the top,” Raines answered for her. “Anyone could’ve done that. Too easy for the cameras to detect. Besides, you cut. She inserted it several hands down. All it takes is a stare—a little eye contact between the dealer and the player when it’s time…”

  Josie stacked up Hauck’s chips. Eight thousand dollars.

  Raines lightly slapped Hauck on the back. “Quite a lucky night, Lieutenant. They’re yours to spend, of course. For your amusement, around the casino.”

  Hauck turned to Raines. If disdain was an ocean, the entire room would be underwater now. He didn’t like what the man was implying and didn’t like the pile of chips in front of him now.

  He stacked about half the chips, most of the purples and blacks, and slid them over to Josie.

  “Tuition,” he said with a wink.

  Her brown eyes widened in surprise. She glanced at Raines, unsure; he seemed to nod begrudgingly, more of a dismissive twitch. “Thank you, Josie. Why don’t you let the lieutenant and me have a few words now.”

  “Thank you.” Josie smiled at Hauck, disbelieving her good fortune, sweeping the chips into her apron. She took her leave.

  When they were alone, Hauck turned to Raines and stared in the security man’s narrow eyes. “Why don’t we skip the floor show and you tell me what happened to Kramer and David Sanger?”

  “I have no idea what happened to them, Lieutenant. I could throw out a possibility or two—hypothetical, of course. A pit boss who’s in dire need of money. An old friend from college with a bit of a gambling itch. Maybe more than that. Let’s call it a compulsion. I’ve shown you the film. I think you understand where this little scenario is leading, Lieutenant.”

  “Who was the dealer?”

  Raines shrugged and locked his hands. “That’s a bit of a private matter, Lieutenant. In our little world here, we handle things our own way. All you have to know is we have the incidents on tape. Several, in fact. In themselves, they don’t really prove anything. Like I said, all this is just a possibility…

  “We run a very big business, Lieutenant, and it operates in the modern world. But at its heart, it still has an old-world way of handling things.” Raines’s mustache twitched. “You never know who you might upset, going up the chain. And you know how people of that ilk might possibly handle things. Remember what I said earlier, regarding balance?”

  “You’re saying you had them killed? For ripping the casino off.”

  “Me?” Raines screwed up his brow innocently. “This is the twenty-first century, Lieutenant. I’m only suggesting one scenario. You’ll find, if you choose to dig around, there are a myriad of interests at play here. The consortiums who oversee the place. The Pequot tribe. Law enforcement. Even the state…It’s hard to say what actually happens or who’s truly affected”—Raines looked at him—“when certain people get in over their heads, you understand, Lieutenant?”

  “You had them killed.” Hauck wasn’t sure who Raines’s warning was directed at, Sanger and Kramer, or him. “You used that gang in Bridgeport as a cover. You’re saying David Sanger risked whatever he had—his job, his family, his whole life’s standing—” He looked around the floor and shook his head. “For this…? This little itch, as you called it. What kind of person would do that, Raines?”

  “I don’t know, Lieutenant.” Raines looked back at him. “What kind of person are you?”

  Hauck’s blood came to a stop.

  The security man got up, his gaze never removing itself from Hauck’s amid the noise and exultations all around. “You enjoy yourself here, Lieutenant. You let me know if you need anything.” He raked in the rest of the chips, stacked them in two even piles. He pushed them over to Hauck. “Glad you came up. I hope it’s been worthwhile. Be sure to call me if I can ever shed any further light on anything else.”

  Then he left, leaving the chips on the table, without putting out his hand.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Hauck ate by himself in the trendy Italian café, then stopped at the bar situated underneath an enormous lava rock formation outside the entrance to the casino. At a nearby table, two young couples who had clearly been having a few were cheering on a Knicks game on the overhead TV.

  Hauck ordered a Booker’s bourbon before heading up to his room.

  His blood was still heated from his meeting with Raines and the bourbon dulled his rancor. Raines’s smirk and the implication that what had happened to Sanger and Kramer was simply the way the “myriad interests” here dealt with their dirty laundry didn’t sit well with him. That Hauck was dealing with forces much larger than he could confront. The consortiums that ran the place. The tribe. The state.

  Law enforcement… It would be difficult, he knew—more than difficult, maybe impossible—to tie Raines or the casino to Vega or DR-17. He could subpoena the tape Raines had shown him. One of many, he had said. He could look for Raines’s number on Vega’s cell phone.

  But these people weren’t exactly stupid.

  He knew he would be pissing a lot of people off. Important people. People in government. Not to mention Wendy Sanger. What he would do to her husband’s reputation if he were to push this through.

  What kind of man would risk all that? he’d asked Raines, and the security man had asked him back, I don’t know. What kind of man are you, Lieutenant?

  Hauck downed his bourbon, his attention shifting to the screen, where the Knicks were stumbling to another defeat in the final minutes.

  He felt someone touch his arm.

  He turned. It was Josie. The pretty dealer. No longer in uniform, but wearing a loose green halter top and a dangling chain around her neck, a pair of tight-fitting jeans. Which showed off the tantalizingly nice figure Hauck had suspected was there. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail with bangs falling loosely over the sides of her face. Two gold hoops in her left ear.

  “Heading to the library?” Hauck grinned.

  “Not tonight,” she said. “Semester break.” Her round eyes shone with some amusement. “My shift’s over. Four to ten. Kills me. Sometimes Steve here spots me a rum and coke before I head out. I saw you sitting here…”

  Hauck shifted over. “Sit down.”

  “Sure…” Josie slipped in next to him. She nodded to the guy in the bolo tie behind the bar, who brought her her “usual.” Hauck ordered one last nightcap as well. He noted a scent on her he found really appealing.

  “To higher education,” Hauck said, and tilted his drink.

  “To financial aid.” She laughed, clinking his glass. She took a sip. “I don’t think I have to say how incredibly nice that was of you. It probably doesn’t come as a surprise that I don’t regularly get three-thousand-dollar tips on the job.”

  “It was his money,” Hauck said. “Your charming boss.”

  “Not my boss,” Josie was quick to say.

  “Let’s just leave it that I think you earned it a bit more than me. Pretty nifty hands…Somehow I think you didn’t exactly learn that in college. What are you studying, anyway?”

  “Sociology.”

  “Sociology!” Hauck laughed. “Well, you’ve got quite a good little laboratory going for yourself here.”

  “Six hours a day…” She shook her head and took a sip of h
er drink, her large brown eyes staying on him.

  “So did you know him?” Hauck asked, taking a chance.

  “Who?”

  “The guy who worked here, who was killed. Keith Kramer?”

  “Oh, that was horrible,” Josie said. “Sure. Everyone knew Keith. He worked my tables from time to time. A good guy. Smart. Funny. I think he was educated. Not the normal kind of guy you find around here. Always backed up my counts, never hassled me or gave me any trouble.”

  “There’s a story going around he might have been trying to cheat the house.”

  “Keith? If there is, it’s gone around me…So that’s what you’re up here for? Keith? Mr. Raines called you ‘lieutenant.’ You’re a cop, right?”

  “I was a cop. I’m the head of detectives now. In Greenwich.”

  “I was thinking you might have been FBI or something. But Feds are always married. That’s a rule, you know. And I don’t see a ring.”

  Hauck reminded himself that he was on business up here, and a part of him was thinking maybe he should cut this conversation short and head back tonight, to avoid any complications.

  Another part was enjoying hanging out with this pretty young thing.

  “Divorced,” he said. They were straying a bit from false shuffles and Keith Kramer. “And almost twice your age…”

  “No chance,” Josie said, sizing him up. “Anyway, you know what they say about age…Only matters when it comes to wine and cheese.”

  Hauck laughed. “And right now I’m feeling a little more like an old Barolo than a Beaujolais…I think I’m going to head upstairs.” He signaled the bartender for the check.

  Josie shrugged. “Your call.” There was a gleam in her eye. He felt her brush next to his arm. A charge of energy ran through him. He couldn’t help it. When she leaned closer, Hauck caught an intriguing view of what was underneath. And it was nice. “Sure?”