Splitting Nines (1)

by Ron Gannon

Chapter 17. Splitting Nines

 

  Dave, reading a newspaper, sat under a canopy on the beach. He turned to Cookie on the chair next to him. “Jimmy’s missing. It's been over a week now.”

 

  “You think it’s my father?”

 

  “I'm afraid so. Maybe I should go back.”

 

  “I’m goin' with ya.”

 

  “All right. We’ll get a suite at Foxwoods until he’s caught. I’ll hire more men. We’ll catch him and have him put away for his own good.”

 

  Tom had to dispose of Ray Disenzo as soon as possible. He wasn’t concerned about Lumpy's body being found, it was buried in a safe spot, but his sudden disappearance and Jimmy’s was a tell. Ray had to be concerned about his safety. So he had to be well guarded. So the best place to get him alone would have to be at his private country club. He knew the golf course well, that Ray played there every Sunday morning and, more important, Ray sliced the ball. He’ll be waiting in the woods on the fourth, seventh, ninth, and several holes on the back if required.

 

  Ray stopped his cart by the ninth tee. “I told her the way to my heart isn’t through my stomach. That’s too high. The key is good sex but more is better and too much is paramount.” Ray and Mario went to their bags and pulled out their drivers. “Truthfully, at my age pussy is like air: no big deal unless you’re not getting any.”

  They headed for the teeing area.

  “As a kid I learned the best things in life are immoral and Santa was jolly because he knew where all the bad girls lived.” Ray teed up as Mario and two other men watched.

 

  Tom waited patiently as he did on holes four and seven. This time Ray’s ball landed in the woods, just six feet away. “If he looks for it instead of playing his provisional,” Tom thought, “he’ll be stiff as his driver.” Tom suffered from insanity, but he enjoyed it.

 

  Ray’s golf cart traveled down the center of the fairway, another cart was close behind. His cart turned right as the other turned left and crossed the fairway. The cart pulled up to the woods and stopped. Ray got out and took a couple of clubs out of his golf bag. “I’m going to take a quick look. Go ahead, don’t worry about my ball.” The cart drove away as Ray entered the woods.

  Tom stood behind a tree watching him. He lifted a knife with a thick long blade to the side of his face as his prey moved closer. Ray spotted his ball. He hurried over to it and looked down. Tom ran up behind him and placed a hand over Ray’s mouth. He pulled him deeper into the woods as he whispered, “Bodyguards that play golf. Where are they when you need them?”

 

  Ray tried to escape. His eyes were wide open and darted all around. Tom pulled him behind a large tree and stopped. He stuck his knife slowly into the Ray’s stomach. “I read that a stomach wound is very painful. Is it? Nod once for yes. You’re not cooperating. Well, I gotta get goin’. I have to see an old neighbor about some lies.”

 

  Tom pulled Ray’s head back and cut his throat.

 

  Cookie sat with four people at a blackjack table. The minimum bet was twenty-five dollars.

  Shortman, gray hair, strolled up to the table and sat next to Cookie. The dealer and the other players at the table gawk at the huge old man. “How’s the table been?”

 

  “Pretty good, Detective or are you retired.”

 

  Shortman put a green chip in the circle. “I still have one case to close.”

 

  “How did you find me?”

 

  “That brilliant husband of yours told his staff he would be staying here if they had to contact him.”

 

  The dealer dealt a four and a seven to Shortman and a pair of nines to Cookie. The dealer’s up card was a nine. Shortman put a green chip next his other chip. The dealer dealt him a king.

  “Twenty-one,” said the dealer, putting chips next to Shortman’s chips.

  Cookie placed a black chip next to her black chip. “Split ‘em.”

 

  A player stared at her. “You don’t split eighteen,” he bellowed in an angry tone.

 

  The dealer looked at Cookie. “It’s my money, not his. Split ‘em, please.”

 

  “Splitting nines,” the dealer said as he separated the nines. He laid an ace on one and a jack on the other. Cookie moved her hand over the ace and nine.

  “Staying on twenty,” The dealer said.

 

  Cookie moved her hand over the nine and jack.

 

  “Staying on nineteen.”

 

  “You’re lucky, Cookie,” Shortman whispered into her ear. “A risky move.”

 

  “Splitting nines against the dealer’s nine is the best play. Blackjack 101.”

 

  The dealer turned up his hole card, a ten. “Dealer has nineteen.”

 

  “Your father was going to separate a couple of nines, wasn’t he?”

 

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

 

  “Sure you do. How do you think Dave’s fingerprint got on the jewelry box?”

 

  “Ask him, Detective. Why are ya still investigating? A little too late if ya ask me.”

 

  “We have three missing persons and an old neighbor of yours concerned about his safety.” Shortman waved his hand over the two cards in front of him. “Mr. Evans told us something we weren’t aware of.”

 

  Cookie took a hit on the jack and five in front of her. The dealer yelled out, “Busted!”

 

  “You sent the boys into the house, didn’t you?”

 

  “Really? Am I’m a suspect too?”

 

  “Mr. Evans saw you and a friend leave shortly about nine that night. He didn’t get

  a good look at the other person, but I know who it was.”

  Cookie looked at the dealer’s name tag. “Steven, would you be kind enough to get someone to tell this big guy to stop pestering me, please?”

 

  The dealer yelled out, “Floor!”