Wild Card

Izzie didn’t like it. If Vinny sensed that Josh was nervous, he might realize the game wasn’t kosher. Josh needed to regroup.

“Hey Josh,” Izzie said. “Get me a Coke, will you?”

“Sure,” Josh said. “Anyone else want anything?”

“I want a slow gin fizz,” Seymour said.

The brothers laughed. Vinny, staring at his cards, didn’t say a word.

Josh retreated to the kitchen, and ran cold water over his wrists. They’d made a lot of money since adding the pool table and the second card table. So why did Izzie have to bring this cretin home? They were playing with fire, and were going to get burned. He grabbed a bottle of Coke from the fridge and returned to the den.

Josh approached the table, then froze. Vinny had his back to him, and was staring up at the ceiling. Looking up, Josh saw tiny butterflies dancing above Izzie’s head. It took a moment before it registered what they were. The Zippo had caught the overhead light, exposing the gaff.

Josh looked at Vinny, and saw him start to pull a gun. He’s going to shoot Izzie. Josh figured he had a few seconds to save his brother’s life. Flipping the Coke bottle over in his hand, he smacked Vinny on the back of the head. The bottle disintegrated upon impact, and Vinny fell forward, and hit the card table with his face.

“Why did you do that?” Izzie shouted.

Josh pointed at the ceiling. Izzie looked up at the butterflies.

“Whoops,” Izzie said.

They laid Vinny out on the floor. He was still breathing, and except for a small cut on the back of his head, did not appear to be seriously injured.

“He told me he’s staying in one of the high roller suites in Resorts’ hotel,” Izzie said, calmly smoking a cigarette while Josh and Seymour paced the den. “He must have a key on him. I say we take him back, and lay him out on his bed. Then we pack our stuff, and go find another house.”

“What about the furniture?” Seymour said.

“We leave it.”

“The pool table, too?”

“Yes. We’ve got to move fast. If Vinny comes back, we’re history.”

Seymour stomped around the room in anger. He’d spent a whole week gaffing the pool table so they could cheat at dice on it. It was a thing of real beauty, and was going to make them rich.

“We can’t leave it,” Seymour whined.

“Stop acting like a baby,” Izzie said.

Josh got on his knees, and searched Vinny’s pockets for a room key. The lower buttons on Vinny’s silk shirt had come undone, and Josh spied a thick canvas money belt wrapped around Vinny’s stomach.

“Oh-oh,” Josh said.

Izzie knelt down; so did Seymour. They had seen the money belt, too.

“Better see what he’s carrying,” Izzie said.

Josh undid Vinny’s shirt, then unzipped the money belt. Inside the belt were stacks of brand new hundred dollar bills. Josh removed the money and counted it.

It was a hundred grand.

Josh’s hands began to tremble. He looked into his brothers’ eyes. They were thinking the same thing, and equally terrified.

Vinny Acosta was a runner for the mob.

Chapter 25

Valentine felt the change in Lois the next morning. His wife was the same, only she wasn’t the same. She fixed his usual breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, filled his coffee cup, said have a nice day, and kissed him goodbye. But it wasn’t the same. She was going through the motions.

Driving to work, it hit him over the head like a lead pipe what was wrong. Lois didn’t care about the scam at the casino, or the mafia. She wanted him to find the Dresser, just like every other woman in Atlantic City wanted the police to find the Dresser. Lois was scared out of her wits, and somehow he’d failed to notice. Reaching his office inside Resorts’ surveillance control room, he picked up the phone and called his wife at work. And he’d apologized.

“I knew you’d figure it out eventually,” she said. “Does this mean you’re still going to help the FBI find the killer?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll just do it without telling anyone.”

“Thank you,” his wife said.

He said goodbye and hung up. Doyle came into his office a few moments later. His partner had a surveillance tape in his hand, and popped it into the VCR on Valentine’s desk. The monitor beside the VCR came to life.

“Take a look at this,” Doyle said.

The tape was of Resorts’ hotel lobby, and showed a drunk being dragged across the lobby by three men. A stack of money fell out of the drunk’s shirt. One of the men picked it up, and shoved it into the drunk’s pocket. Doyle froze the tape.

“So what,” Valentine said.

“The drunk is the same guy we saw Mickey Wright give all those chips yesterday,” Doyle said.

Valentine stared at the screen. “Jesus. You’re right.”

Doyle hit play, and the tape changed to show the hotel’s elevators. The men appeared in the picture, and propped the drunk in the corner of an empty car. Then the doors closed. The elevator had an old-fashioned floor indicator and rose to the penthouse without stopping.

“He must be a guest,” Valentine said.

“That’s what I thought,” Doyle said.

“He isn’t?”