I checked the time. Los Angeles was two hours behind Mayville Heights. If I was lucky Mom was back from the set. If she wasn’t I could try her when I got home. It was Dad who answered. “Hi, sweetie,” he said. “It’s wonderful to hear your voice.”
“It’s good to hear yours, too,” I said. “How’s Los Angeles?”
“Busy. They’re using your mother as much as they can, because we’ll be leaving in another week. And everywhere we go someone recognizes her. Not to mention men half my age are putting the moves on her right in front of me.”
“He’s exaggerating,” I heard Mom call in the background.
I laughed. It didn’t matter how many men tried to charm my mother. She only had eyes for my father. She told me once that being divorced from Dad showed her that she didn’t need a man she could live with. She needed a man she couldn’t live without.
“May I talk to her, please?” I said.
“Of course,” he said. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, Dad.” I leaned back in my chair and my mother’s voice came through the phone, just as full of warmth as if she’d been in the room with me.
“Hello, Katydid,” she said. “How are you?”
The sound of my mom’s voice always made me smile. She could be dramatic and aggravating and she’d never been the make-cookies or take-me-to-girl-scouts kind of parent, which I’d longed for at times growing up. But she loved me and Sara and Ethan with the ferocity of a mama grizzly bear and I knew no matter what any of us did in life, she always had our backs. “I’m fine,” I said.
“And how are Owen and Hercules?”
“They’re both all right now, but Owen did have a bit of an altercation with a stray dog last week.”
“Is Owen all right?” she asked, and I could hear the concern in her voice. Mom and the cats had bonded the first time she came for a visit.
“He had to have stitches and wear a fabric cone for a few days, but he had Marcus feeding him things he probably shouldn’t have had and me carrying him everywhere, so he survived. And for the record, according to Roma the dog looked worse.”
Mom laughed. “That’s probably the last cat he’ll tangle with,” she said. “And how’s Marcus?” There was a teasing edge to her voice that made me blush even though she couldn’t see me.
“Perfect as always,” I said.
“You’re happy.” It wasn’t a question.
“We are.” I pictured her probably curled up in a big chair, elbow on the armrest and her head propped on her hand, and a wave of homesickness rolled over me.
“I have a feeling you didn’t call just to tell me how terrific Marcus is,” she said. “So what’s up?”
“I’m hoping you can teach me about playing blackjack.”
“Are you planning a career change you haven’t told me about?”
I laughed and propped my feet on the edge of my desk. “No. Do you remember me telling you about Mia Janes, who works for me at the library, and her dad?”
“Simon,” Mom said. “The developer.”
“Yes.”
“This has something to do with his father’s death, doesn’t it?” My mother read the Mayville Heights Chronicle every morning online. I should have guessed she’d make the connection.
“Leo—Simon’s father—played blackjack. He was pretty good.” The brownie I’d brought for dessert was still sitting on top of my desk next to a half-warm cup of coffee. I broke off a piece and popped it into my mouth.
“Did it get him killed?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “All I can tell you is that he won around a million dollars at one particular casino and no one seems to know for sure exactly how he did it.”
“I’m surprised he wasn’t banned from the tables.”
“He was. And not just at that casino.”
“How much do you know about the game?” Mom asked.
“I understand the rules,” I said. “Players compete against the dealer but not against each other. The object of the game is to beat the dealer, by getting twenty-one points with your first two cards, say with an ace and a queen, or having your final score be more than the dealer’s without going over twenty-one, or by the dealer going bust.” I had another bite of my brownie.
“That’s right,” she said. “Face cards are worth ten and an ace can be worth one or eleven. The dealer deals two cards to everyone from the shoe.”
“The shoe holds the cards, right?” I said.
“Yes.” I could picture my mother nodding on the other end of the phone. “Invented, by the way, by John Scarne, one of the most incredible magicians I’ve ever seen. Before that the game was dealt from a single deck. The shoe can hold between two and eight decks of cards.”
I did a little math in my head. “So, wait a minute; using more cards is going to give an advantage to the casino.”
“Exactly,” Mom said. “And it works against someone like Mr. Janes, who had to have been counting cards to have won that much money.”
“He did have a PhD in math,” I said.
“So he probably had math skills that were better than the average person.”
“Yes.” I checked my watch. I only had a few minutes left on my supper break.
“After those first two cards are dealt a player has several choices. ‘Hit’ means take another card from the dealer.”
“And ‘stand’ means you don’t want any more cards.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “‘Double down’ means you can increase your original bet. If your first two cards are worth the same you can split them into two hands. That’s called a split.”
“So if Leo was counting cards, what was he doing?” I said. “I’m guessing it means keeping track of what’s been dealt and what cards are left to be played.”
“Essentially that’s it. A good card counter knows what the odds are of getting the card he needs. But keep in mind not only is the dealer watching, there are also cameras overhead watching. Card counters get in trouble when it’s obvious what they’re doing, for instance when everyone can see them looking around. I take it Mr. Janes didn’t do anything to give himself away.”
“I guess not,” I said.
“Smart man,” Mom said, and I caught a hint of approval in her voice. “Keep in mind,” she continued, “it may be considered to be wrong by the casinos but card counting isn’t illegal, not unless the player is using something other than his own mental acuity—some kind of computer for instance.”
“So why was Simon banned from playing anymore?”
“Because a casino is private property. Just the way you can refuse to let someone in your house, a casino can refuse to let someone play. If I’m in your house after I’ve been told I’m not welcome, that’s considered trespassing and that is a crime. The same would be true in a casino.”
I checked my watch again. It was almost time to get back to work. “Thanks, Mom,” I said. “This helps a lot.”
“You’re welcome, Katydid,” she said. “Stay safe. Tell Marcus I said hello. And tell Maggie there’s a surprise wedding coming on the show.”
To my surprise Maggie had turned out to be a huge fan of The Wild and Wonderful. “Whose?” I asked. “Wait a minute, are you getting married? Is that why they wanted you for more shows?”
“You know I can’t tell you that,” she said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I said. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
I ended the call and set my cell on top of the desk.
Card counting was a lot harder than I’d realized. Leo had been good enough that no one knew how he was doing whatever it was he’d been doing. I could see why Elias wanted to figure that out, why any casino owner would. Had Leo taught his technique to some of his students? He’d already cost Elias a million dollars. How much money had they, or could they, win as well?