Jackpot tv-8

by James Swain

  He needed the Pai Gow scam more than he’d realized. But what if Xing refused to hand it over? Then he’d have to take it, even if it meant killing him.

  He went to the window, and stared down at the wave machine in the hotel pool. He’d never killed two men in one day, and supposed there was a first time for everything.

  Chapter 51

  Gerry walked out of the Acropolis into the blinding sunlight. He’d been inside the Acropolis less than an hour, yet had already lost track of the time. If casinos were good at anything, it was making a person forget the real world. He spotted his father parked next to the valet stand in the rental. He hopped into the passenger seat, and they peeled out with a rubbery squeal, and were soon heading north on the strip.

  His father drove without speaking. There was a faraway look in his eyes, and Gerry assumed he’d retreated to that place that he went to when life got him down.

  “Rough time at the prison?”

  His father nodded. Lying on the seat was a snapshot of Lucy Price. The woman was a bad news buffet, yet his father still cared deeply for her. Gerry wasn’t surprised; his father hadn’t abandoned him, and he’d been screwing up his entire life.

  “I’m sorry, Pop.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  They drove through the canyon of gigantic casinos that lined both sides of the strip. Gerry guessed they were going to meet up with Bill Higgins, who was with the police stake out team on Fremont Street in old downtown.

  “Lucy identified the ringleader of the gang,” his father said, breaking the silence. “It’s Fred Friendly, the head of the Electronic Systems Division.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am. Fred’s got twenty-five years on the clock, and is up for retirement in a few years. Why decide now to start stealing? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yes, it does. Nick Nicocropolis told me.”

  His father braked at a light. They had passed the Wynn and its sister property, Encore, and the strip had started to turn seedy. His father waited for him to continue.

  “It isn’t pretty, Pop. Seems a casino in town called Diamond Dave’s got caught cheating their customers. Every single game in the joint was rigged. The Gaming Control Board shut the place down, and got the casino manager to confess. A few days later, the casino manager ended up with two bullets in his head.”

  The light changed. His father pulled ahead, still staring at the busy road.

  “Then a strange thing happened,” Gerry went on. “Diamond Dave, the owner of the casino, got hauled in. Dave claimed he didn’t know a thing, even though he was pocketing all the money. I’m talking millions, Pop. The GCB took his gaming license away, and shut the joint down. And that’s where the story ends.”

  His father jerked his head sideways. “Say what?”

  “They let him go. He’s in California now, selling real estate.”

  “That’s impossible. He broke the god damn law. He’s also probably a murderer.”

  “I know. I asked Nick how Diamond Dave got away with it. Nick said Diamond Dave had greased a lot of palms, and had friends in high places.”

  “Nick wouldn’t tell you who sprung this crook?”

  “No. I asked but he wouldn’t give it up.”

  “And Nick thinks this is why Fred Friendly and the rest of his group went bad.”

  “Yeah. Nick said the gaming agents that worked on the case were given counseling to make sure it didn’t affect their work. I remember seeing that in the files. Fred Friendly and the rest of ESD all took extended leaves three years ago.”

  “I guess it didn’t work.”

  “Guess not.”

  The rental picked up speed. Gerry saw his old man talking to himself, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. It was a lot of information to absorb, but that was what made his father the world heavyweight champ at catching cheaters and crooks. Several blocks later, his father punched the dashboard with his fist.

  “Son-of-a-bitch.”

  “You figured it out,” Gerry said.

  “Damn right I did.”

  His father pulled up a number on his cell phone. Gerry stole a glance, and saw that it was Bill Higgins he was calling. This was going to be good.

  The call went through. His old man didn’t mince words.

  “You and I need to talk,” his father barked into the phone.

  They met up with Bill at a dive motel on Fremont Street. Fremont had once been a cool place to hang out, with a number of old casinos and funky restaurants. Those days were long gone, and today it was a human cesspool, the sidewalks filled with strung-out hookers, runaways, and street people who didn’t have two nickels to rub together.

  Bill greeted them at the door. His necktie was pulled to one side, and he wore the haggard look of a man who hadn’t gotten enough sleep in the past few days. The stakeout team was in the room, and consisted of four members of the Metro Las Vegas Police Department. The team had placed sensitive eavesdropping equipment against the wall, and were listening to the activity of the room next door.

  Valentine and his son entered, and Bill shut the door. Bill put his finger to his lips, and pulled them into a small kitchenette.

  “You figure out which one of the agents is our crook?” Bill asked.

  “They’re all crooks,” Valentine said.

  Bill appeared too stunned to speak.

  “The motive was Diamond Dave’s,” Valentine said.

  Bill blinked. “Who told you about Diamond Dave’s?”

  “It sure as hell wasn’t you.”

  Bill ran his fingers through his thick head of hair. When he was a younger man, he’d worn his hair so it touched his collar, and impressed Valentine as a guy who marched to his own drummer. Time had obviously changed him. Bill looked at Gerry, who was leaning against the wall, then back at Valentine, who stood across from him.

  “I’m sorry, Tony.”

  “Explain,” Valentine said.

  Bill tugged at his necktie like it was choking him. “ The owner of Diamond Dave’s had money problems, and decided to rig the games in his casino to pay off his creditors. We caught him, and shut the place down. We hauled Diamond Dave into jail, and guess who the first person was he called with his one phone call.”

  “Governor Smoltz,” Valentine said.

  Bill blinked again. “Who told you that?”

  “I figured it out. Smoltz takes care of his friends. Diamond Dave probably helped put him in office.”

  “That’s right. Diamond Dave was one of his biggest fund raisers. Two days after we arrested Diamond Dave, his casino manager turns up dead. He was our only witness. I got a call from Smoltz a few hours later, telling me to let Diamond Dave walk. Smoltz claimed the scandal would hurt the town’s business, and he wanted me to put a lid on it. I was under orders not to talk.”

  Valentine had been a cop once, and obeyed plenty of orders he hadn’t agreed with. Bill had done what he’d had to do. But it still didn’t make it right. He watched his friend jerk his necktie off, and stuff it into his pocket.

  “Let me ask you a question,” Valentine said. “When Bronco first told you there was a crooked gaming agent stealing jackpots, did you think this was blow-back to what had happened at Diamond Dave’s?”

  Valentine already knew the answer to the question, but had to ask it anyway. Bill had known, which was why Smoltz had gotten involved. How Bill answered was going to determine whether they remained friends.

  “Yes,” Bill said.

  “Did Smoltz?”

  “Yes, he figured it out as well.”

  “Why didn’t you just focus your investigation on just the agents who’d been involved in shutting down Diamond Dave’s? Why throw such a wide net?”

  “Because every agent working for the GCB knew about the scandal, and had been tainted by it,” Bill replied. “I had to look at everyone.”

  Bill was being honest with him now. The dark secrets that Mira had told Mabel were hidden beneath the surface
were finally coming out.

  “What are you going to do now?” Valentine asked. “Or should I say, what’s Smoltz going to do? Let Fred Friendly and his gang skate?”

  “Smoltz wants us to nail Bronco first, and muzzle him. Then we’ll haul in Friendly and the others.”

  “Aren’t you afraid Friendly and his gang will go into the wind? They have to know that you’ve shut the Universal slot machines down.”

  “I’m sure they do. But where are they going to go?” Bill said. “They all live here. Trust me, they’re going to be a lot easier to run down than Bronco.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  One of the cops on the stakeout team appeared in the doorway.

  “What’s up?” Bill said to him.

  “The Asian just got a phone call,” the cop replied. “It’s Bronco. They’re setting up the meeting.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be right in.”

  The cop left, and Bill turned his attention back to Valentine.

  “We done?”

  “Done,” Valentine replied.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t level with you Tony. I really am.”

  “I’ll get over it.”

  Bill nodded and went into the next room. Valentine started to follow, and saw Gerry motion for him to wait. His son went to the door and glanced into the next room, then came back and pulled his father into the corner.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Gerry said in a whisper.

  “I’m never thinking what you’re thinking,” Valentine replied.

  “If Bronco gets muzzled, only two people outside of Bill and Smoltz will know what’s going on. You and me.”

  “So?”

  “I sure hope we don’t end up with bullets in our heads.”

  “Come on, Gerry, be serious.”

  “I am, Pop. Think about it.”

  Valentine did. And then it hit him. His son was right. In Vegas, it was all about the money, and the things they knew could permanently damage the way business was done. People had been killed in this town for less than that. A lot less.

  “Guess we’d better watch each other’s backs,” Valentine said.

  “Deal,” his son replied.

  Chapter 52

  Bronco was setting up the meeting with Xing, when there was a knock on his hotel room door. He said, “Hang on.” into his cell phone, and placed it down.

  Going to the door, he stared through the peephole. A male uniformed hotel employee pushing a metal cart stood in the hallway.

  Bronco opened the door. “What’s up?”

  “Would you like your mini-bar restocked?”

  “No thanks.”

  He shut the door in the employee’s face. He’d had three visitors in the past hour. A maid wanting to turn down his bed, a maintenance man wanting to check the AC, and now this guy. It didn’t feel right, and he guessed the casino was getting antsy about him being in his room, and not downstairs gambling.

  Or maybe it was something else. The police had probably figured out he was in town, and asked the hotels to check on any male guests who’d registered in the past twenty-four hours. Which meant that staying here was no longer safe.

  He got back on the phone with Xing.

  “You still there?”

  “I’m here,” the Asian replied.

  “Let’s do this now.”

  “Come to my room in an hour.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Why? Are you in a rush?”

  Xing was testing him. The Asian seemed to enjoy getting under his skin.

  “No, I just want to get this over with.”

  “One hour. The Cordova motel, room #24.”

  “Got it.”

  He folded his phone. If Xing knew that the slot machine scam was worthless, he hadn’t mentioned it. Hopefully, he hadn’t strayed far from his motel, and gone into any of the casinos on Fremont Street. If he did go into a casino, he was going to know, and then Bronco would have to kill him to get the Pai Gow secret.

  Throwing his clothes into a suitcase, Bronco went downstairs and got his car from the valet. He still had not shaken the events of that morning, and his shirt was soaked with sweat. He pulled out of the hotel, and decided to cruise the strip.

  He drove to the north end, turned around, and drove back. Back when he’d been married to Marie, he’d owned a convertible, and they’d often driven the strip with the top down, and looked at the tourists. He imagined Marie was sitting next to him, and heard her singing along with the radio. She’d always loved the slow stuff.

  He came to Tropicana Avenue, and put his blinker on. The light changed, and his hands instinctively spun the wheel. He drove down Tropicana until he was in the desert. Up ahead, a road sign said Henderson, 10 miles. He was heading back to his house, and hadn’t even realized it.

  He parked one street over from his house, and walked across a neighbor’s property to his own backyard. Yellow police tape was stretched across the back slider, telling him that his house had been turned into a crime scene investigation.

  He stuck his head around a corner. No police cars were in the driveway or the street. He went to the front door, removed a key from a flower pot, and let himself in.

  He wasn’t ready for the smell. Old cigarette smoke and spilled beer mixed with the house’s dead air. He considered opening up the windows and airing the place out, then realized he wasn’t coming back, so what was the point?

  His next stop was the master bedroom. He instantly noted what things inside the room the cops had touched or moved. Nosy bastards.

  Opening the closet door, he unzippered one of Marie’s clothing bags, and stuck his face into her dresses. Whenever he missed her so much that he felt like sticking a gun in his mouth, he’d gone and smelled her clothes. It was hard to explain how much he’d loved Marie; even he didn’t understand it. Or why he couldn’t get over her.

  They’d met at a craps table at the MGM Grand. She’d been gambling with some friends. She was an innocent looking kid, real pretty, and Bronco had sensed she was someone he could work with.

  The shooter had won. As the dealer paid the shooter off, he turned his back on Marie, and Bronco had added a stack of chips to Marie’s bet. He didn’t think the dealer would accuse her of cheating, because most dealers were suckers for pretty girls.

  He’d been right. The dealer had paid Marie off without squawking. Marie had taken the money while staring at Bronco with her big blue eyes, like she couldn’t imagine anyone being so brazen. Bronco had stared right back. He’d never believed in love at first sight until he’d laid eyes on her.

  Marie had taken her winnings and left the table. He’d followed her outside the casino, his palms sweating from the arrow that Cupid had shot in his ass. Marie walked to her car, then spun around. Taking her winnings from her purse, she threw half at Bronco’s feet.

  “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” she said accusingly.

  He’d stood there helplessly. She was a vision; dark hair, dancing eyes, with a small, full figure and a face that every Italian kid dreams about.

  “We could have both gotten arrested,” she said.

  Bronco realized what she was saying. She’d thought it out, and decided the risk was worth taking. That was why she’d thrown his half at him. She knew what she’d done was wrong.

  “Let me buy you dinner,” he’d said.

  He’d expected her to walk away, and out of his life forever. Only she’d hesitated. It was just enough for him to know.

  Reaching down, he scooped the money off the pavement, and handed it back to her. It was the beginning of something, and they’d both known it.

  On the night table was a framed photograph of Marie taken on their honeymoon. There was a slit in the cardboard backing of the frame. He slipped his fingers into the slit, and removed the photograph of Mikey he’d hidden there long ago. It was the only photo of Mikey he had, and Bronco counted all the freckles on his son’s face. Mikey had died a year after Marie, and nothing had
ever been the same.

  He slipped Mikey’s photograph back into the frame so it lay next to Marie. He hadn’t planned to touch anything in the room, but now realized that was impossible. He had to take some memento of Marie and the boy, and he slipped the photograph under his arm.

  He left through the backdoor. Crossing the backyard, he saw a fluttering of curtains behind a neighbor’s window. He’d been spotted, and started to run. The ground was uneven and his foot landed in a hole. The photograph slipped from his grasp, and hit the ground.

  He picked it up with a shudder. The glass frame had turned into a web of fractures. He felt a catch in his throat, his body humbled by the weakness of love. He was crying by the time he reached his car.

  Chapter 53

  Xing did not believe in taking chances.

  He knew that the police were looking for Bronco. Bronco’s face was being shown regularly on the TV news shows, and there were only so many places a man could hide, especially in a city like Las Vegas. If Xing was going to meet with Bronco and do the exchange, he needed to be sure that Bronco wasn’t being tailed. Otherwise, he’d end up sharing a jail cell with him.

  Xing’s motel was directly on Fremont Street. He could open the front door, and step right into the action. He started to do that now, and spotted a man standing by the curb, reading a newspaper. Something about the man’s body language felt wrong, and he silently shut the door.

  Xing went to his room’s only window and tilted the blind with his finger. Outside, the man continued to read his paper. Xing couldn’t remember seeing anyone on Fremont Street reading a paper. Either they were talking on cell phones or walking around drunk. He studied the man. Muscular in build with a short haircut and conservative clothes. Everything about him screamed policeman. And if there was one cop, there were probably many more, all waiting for Bronco to appear before swooping in.