Wild Card

Pulling up his driveway, he tried to guess how many employees were involved in the skim outside of Vinny Acosta and his runners. He put the number at a dozen people in the casino and hotel’s accounting departments. Hard-working people who’d decided thirty-six grand a year didn’t cut it, and had decided to go to work for the mob.

You’re all going down, he thought.

A young woman stood on the stoop of his house. Early twenties, dirty brown hair, wearing a fake fur coat. Definitely not a ‘I’d like to talk to you about Jesus’ nut. As he pulled up the driveway, she turned around. It was Sissy, the Visine Queen. Parking, he jumped out of the car. If he was seen with another hooker, Banko would have his scalp. Approaching her, he said, “What are you doing here?”

“Selling girl scout cookies.”

“Who gave you my address?”

She eyed him cooly. “I date a cop on the side. He told me.”

“What do you want?”

Sissy shot him a nasty look. “You’re not very hospitable.”

“I’m on suspension. What do you want?”

“It’s about Mona.”

“What about her?”

“She’s missing. I think she’s in trouble.”

He looked up and down the street for Hatch or any other detectives that might be watching his house. The street was empty, and he escorted Sissy inside. She slipped out of her fake fur, and threw it over a chair in the dining room. She wasn’t wearing trashy clothes, or anything particularly alluring; little make-up, and no perfume. She refused to sit down, and stood next to his dining room table. She was all business.

Sitting on the table was a box of family photographs that Lois planned to hang around the house to replace those destroyed by the burglars. The top photograph caught Sissy’s eye, and she picked it up. It was of Lois modeling a bathing suit when she was younger.

“This your wife?”

“That’s her,” he said.

“She’s a beauty.”

Valentine took a deep breath. Sissy was trying to be nice, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her to say what was on her mind, and get out of his house.

“What happened to Mona?” he asked.

Sissy continued to admire the photograph. “She’s disappeared. Went to the beach yesterday and never came home. We do buddy checks. When she didn’t answer her phone this morning, I went looking for her.”

“Any luck?”

“Just her car. It was parked in the lot of the Catholic church near the casino. I talked to the priest. He said it had been there overnight.”

“You file a missing person’s report?”

“No. Do you mind?”

Before he could object, Sissy removed Lois’s photograph, and picked up the one beneath it. It was of Gerry at his fifth birthday. He was dressed in a Batman costume and was blowing out the candles on a sagging ice cream cake. Sissy rubbed his face with her thumb, then seemed embarrassed and put the photograph down.

“Why not?” he asked.

“I’m leaving town. I did what I could.”

“I thought Mona was your friend.”

“You think a missing person report is going to make a difference?”

“It’s a start,” he said, growing angry with her.

She took her fake fur off the chair, and slipped it on. “I told Mona to stay off the streets until this sicko was caught. She didn’t listen. You know why?”

He shook his head.

“There’s an old expression. Quit the business, before the business quits you. Mona didn’t know when to quit.” Sissy walked to the front door, opened it, then turned and looked him square in the eye. “I do.”

He followed her outside to the curb. Sissy drove a baby-blue Mustang, and it was packed with everything she owned, the clothes and kitchen utensils thrown across the seats like she’d robbed a rummage sale.

“If you see her again, tell her I’m sorry,” Sissy said.

Valentine watched her drive away, then went back inside his house.

He sat at his kitchen table, and tried to decide what to do with the information Sissy had given him. The rules for being suspended were clear: No involvement in any active investigations. He couldn’t call Banko without getting himself in more hot water, only sitting on the information wasn’t an option, either. Not if he wanted to sleep at night, and live with his conscience. He picked up the phone and called Lois at work. His wife was on break, and he told her everything that Sissy had said.

“You have to call Banko, and tell him,” Lois said when he was finished.

“Even if I end up getting fired?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

He’d thought of a dozen surreptitious ways of getting the information about Mona to Banko without getting involved. As if reading his thoughts, Lois said, “He may not be happy with you Tony, but he will believe you, and that’s what counts.”

It made him feel better, knowing his wife was behind him. He told her that he loved her, then hung up and called his superior.

“Let me get this straight. A hooker drove to your house, and gave you this information?” Banko said incredulously a few minutes later. His tone was severe, and Valentine could feel an invisible noose tightening around his neck.

“That’s right,” he said.

“You entertain hookers at your house often?”

“She dates a cop. Said he gave her my address.”