Wild Card

“You didn’t take any money?”

“That was to come later on.”

Mink’s eyes shifted to a high school portrait of Marcus hanging behind the gridiron trophies inside the shattered display case. Marcus had been blessed with his mother’s good looks and his father’s winning smile. Tears welled up in Mink’s face and he wiped them away with his palm.

“Last week, I came home from work, and there was a motorbike sitting in the driveway. Gloria and I tried to take it away from him. Marcus said if we took the bike, he’d tell his friends at school he knew I was dirty. So I let him keep it.” Mink shook his head and began to cry. “I made a mistake, and the Lord has taken away my most precious thing.”

Valentine let a long moment pass. “What happened at the Rainbow Arms? I’ve never fully understood it.”

Mink stared at his hands. The dried blood had turned them a color that no man should have to bear. “The Prince knew the mob was inside Resorts, and that Crowe, Brown and Mickey Wright were on the take. The Prince tried to get a piece of the action, and was turned away. He had one of his whores sleep with a hood named Vinny Acosta. She rolled him, and took his address book. Crowe and Brown were sent to get it back.”

“Why is the address book so important?”

“Acosta is skimming the casino,” Mink said. “He’s got casino employees converting free rooms and comps into cash, then using runners to take the cash out. The address book contains the names of the runners.”

Valentine could not believe what Mink was saying. His father had been right.

“How much cash?” he heard himself ask.

“A hundred grand a day.”

“Vinny Acosta is stealing three point six million dollars a year?”

Mink laughed hoarsely. “Try thirty-six million.”

The number was so large, it didn’t seem possible.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Mink said.

“How are they getting the cash out?”

“Each runner gets a hundred thousand dollar line of credit from the casino. The runner gambles for a few hours, but only bets a little money. Then the runner converts the chips into cash, and walks out the door with it. The people on the inside show the money going towards comps.”

Valentine thought of the dozens of cheaters he’d busted in the past few months. All combined, he didn’t think they’d stolen as much as Vinny Acosta was stealing every day.

“Guess what my take was,” Mink said.

“I don’t have any idea.”

“Five hundred bucks a week. And look what it bought me. A life of penance, and shame.”

The rage had seeped out of Mink’s voice, his spirit shattered by what he’d done. The moment of horror had passed, and Valentine came around the desk and offered Mink his hand. “Come on,” he said.

Mink rose on wobbly legs. He put his hand on Valentine’s arm for balance, then said, “Are you going to arrest me?”

Valentine shook his head. Mink had suffered enough for what he’d done.

They walked into the kitchen. It was the kind of kitchen you hardly saw anymore — an expanse of rubbed down linoleum, an old gas range, and a refrigerator with rounded corners. The sink was on porcelain legs, and Valentine stood beside it while Mink washed the blood from his hands. Gloria and Doyle appeared, and Gloria went to her husband and embraced him. Mink rested his head against his wife’s bosom. Gloria whispered in his ear, and Mink said, ‘I’m sorry,’ several times in reply.

Valentine looked at Doyle and saw his partner nod. They had done what they could, and walked out of the house to their car.

Chapter 46

The next morning, Valentine met with the two auditors assigned to keep tabs on Resorts’ gambling revenues. They worked in a brick building several miles away from the casino, and Valentine felt safe in assuming they hadn’t heard about his suspension yet.

The auditor’s names were Finkel and Carp. Not smart enough to become CPAs, they’d taken this beat instead. As a rule, they didn’t deal directly with anyone who worked at the casino, and they reacted cooly to Valentine’s bribe of fresh bagels and coffee.

“What do you want?” Carp growled at him.

Valentine had known Carp since junior high. Back then, Carp had worn his hair shellacked like James Dean, and smoked cigarettes behind the school with the greasers. These days, he didn’t have any hair, and wore cheap suits from Men’s Warehouse.

“I’m meeting with Resorts’ management next week,” Valentine said. “I’m supposed to show the impact Doyle and I are having on the casino’s profits.”

Carp snorted. “You lose.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re surveillance, and surveillance is the enemy of the bottom line.”

“It is?”

“Surveillance is the second-to-worst non-revenue generating department in Resorts,” Carp explained. “You only exist because the law says you have to.”

“Who brings up the rear?”

“Payroll.”

“I still think we’re making a difference,” Valentine said. “I want to examine the profits of the different games before, and after, Doyle and I entered the picture. If profits are up, it means there’s less cheating, and we’re improving the bottom line.”