Wild Card

Fossil jerked his desk drawer open, and removed two pairs of handcuffs. He showed Romaine how to clip the cuffs onto his belt. Then he pulled a blackjack out of the drawer, and slapped it loudly against his palm.

“Let’s go knock some heads,” Fossil said.

Fossil knew what the Hirsch brothers were up to. Valentine had explained how they pulled sheep off the floor, and took them back to a rented house for a shearing. He crossed the casino with Romaine glued to his side. Taking out his money, Fossil put the biggest bill on top, and sifted through the crowd until he found Izzie Hirsch. He grabbed Izzie by the arm and in a loud voice said, “Louie, how you been?”

Izzie gave him a funny look. Then he saw the wad of cash in Fossil’s hand.

“Terrific,” Izzie said. “How about you?”

“Great! This is my pal Romaine. He and I just won five grand playing craps.”

Izzie’s’s eyes popped. “You won five big ones? Can I shake your hand?”

“Ha, ha,” Fossil said.

Izzie’s brothers appeared, and soon they were all bosom buddies. Izzie suggested they go back to their house, and get some food. Fossil agreed, and he and Romaine followed them in his car to a neighborhood in Chelsea Heights.

Fossil had seen some cute set-ups, but the Hirsch’s house was something special. The downstairs was like a college frat house, with a cooler filled with ice-cold beer, a pool table, and two felt-lined card tables. He helped himself to two bottles of Budweiser from the cooler, while Romaine racked up balls on the pool table.

“Look what I found,” Fossil said, handing Romaine a beer.

“Boy, what swell guys,” Romaine said.

They started playing eightball. The Hirsch brothers were in the living room, playing poker. Occasionally, one would stick his head, and eye the pile of bills sitting on the table. It looked like they were playing for big money, and soon Izzie and Seymour were standing in the den, watching the balls fly across the felt.

“Who’s up for craps?” Izzie asked when their game was done.

“Sure,” Fossil said.

Izzie tossed a pair of dice onto the table. “You shoot first.”

Fossil picked the dice up, and shook them. They didn’t feel right, and without thinking, he turned them over in his palm to see where they’d been manufactured. It was something a sucker would never do. Realizing his mistake, he looked up, and caught Izzie’s fearful stare.

“Something the matter?” Izzie asked.

Fossil tossed the dice onto the felt, then slipped the blackjack out of his pocket, and came around the pool table to where Izzie and Seymour were standing. “Put your hands where I can see them. And tell your brother to get out here.”

“You a cop?” Izzie asked.

“Casino security.”

“You can’t arrest us,” Seymour said indignantly.

“Like hell I can’t!” Fossil exclaimed. “Arms in the air.”

Izzie hollered at the top of his lungs. “JOSH!”

The den’s lights flickered. Fossil stared at the dice sitting on the pool table. They were rolling backward and forward like a pair of dying fish. He reached for the handcuffs clipped to his belt, then left his feet, and flew through the air like Peter Pan.

Forty minutes later, Valentine pulled up to the address in Chelsea Heights and let his headlights illuminate the shadowy figures standing on the lawn. It was midnight, and the sound of the phone that had awoken him was still ringing in his ears. From the seat he picked up a baseball cap along with a pair of glasses. Putting both on, he appraised himself in the mirror. Not a great disguise, but it would do.

He got his flashlight from the trunk and flicked it on. The street lights were out, and he walked up the from path and then around the house. He found Doyle in the back yard, talking to a uniform. His partner broke free and pulled him aside.

“Sorry to wake you up,” Doyle said.

“No problem.”

“I know your coming over here is a risk, but I figured you’d better see this.”

“Is Banko here?”

“Naw, he’s home sleeping.”

Doyle entered through the back of the house with Valentine behind him. The interior was lit up by Coleman lanterns. They found Fossil in the kitchen, walking off whatever had knocked him silly.

“Tony, that you?” the older man asked.

Valentine put a finger to his lips. “Keep it down. How you feeling?”

Fossil was favoring his right side, and grimaced every time he took a step. He stopped and put his hand on the kitchen counter, breathing deeply. “I’ll live.”

“You should have called me,” Valentine said. “I would have told you how to handle them.”

“I didn’t think they were dangerous.”

“Think again.”

Fossil looked away, embarrassed as hell. “Guess I blew it, huh?”

“Happens to the best of us,” Doyle said.

Valentine went into the living room, and found Romaine sitting on a bar stool. Romaine looked like he’d just gone ten rounds with George Foreman, and pressed a bulging ice pack to his misshapen skull. Talking under his breath, Valentine said, “Romaine, it’s me. What the hell happened?”

“Tony?”

“Don’t use my name.”

“Sorry. I tried to grab one of them, and he smacked me over the head with a bottle.”

“Let me see where he hit you.”