Valentine was crossing Celebrity’s casino when his cell phone rang. Thirty minutes had passed since he’d contacted Gerry to tell him his life was in danger, and they’d been thirty of the longest minutes of his life. As he flipped the phone open, a hand came down squarely on his shoulder.
“Cell phones are not permitted inside the casino,” a security guard said.
“It’s an emergency.”
“I’m sure it is. Please take the call over there.”
He followed the direction of the guard’s finger, and crossed the casino to the front lobby with its screeching exotic birds. By now his cell phone had gone quiet, and the message icon was flashing on its face. He retrieved the message, and heard his son’s exuberant voice. The lobby noise was intense, and he pushed the volume control on high.
“Hey, Pop, it’s me. I don’t know how you knew my life was in danger, but your call saved my life.”
Valentine felt the air trapped in his lungs escape. His son was okay.
“I’m sure you’re pissed off that I didn’t tell you I was coming to Las Vegas, but I decided I had to find Jack Donovan’s killers,” his son went on. “You know what you’re always telling me about following my heart? Well, my heart told me to do this, so here I am. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me for disobeying you.
“I’ll call you later tonight. Maybe we can hook up. I’ve got some dirt on cheating that’s going on at ring games at the World Poker Showdown that I thought you’d like to hear. Oh, and Pop? — ”
“What?” Valentine said without thinking.
“—Thanks for the save.”
He erased the message. He and Gerry hadn’t seen eye-to-eye since Gerry had been a teenager. After his wife had died, they’d tried to get back on neutral ground. Although the relationship wasn’t perfect, Gerry was getting better at explaining himself, and he was getting better at listening. As he shut the cell phone, a yellow-headed parrot in a nearby cage began to flap its wings.
“Thanks for the save, thanks for the save,” the bird screeched.
Taking the elevator upstairs, Valentine found himself thinking about his dinner with Gloria Curtis. He wanted to make a good impression, and wished Mabel were around to suggest what clothes he should wear. Not that he had much in the way of a wardrobe, but Mabel’s help would quell the tiny butterflies dancing in his stomach. As he entered his room, he saw the red light on his phone flashing. He picked up the message.
“Hey, Tony,” Rufus Steele’s voice rang out. “I’m in a jam and need your help. Would you mind coming down to my room? Thanks, pardner.”
He glanced at his watch. He had a few hours to kill before dinner, and guessed he could get Rufus to help him pick out his clothes. It wasn’t that Rufus was a great dresser either, but he needed another opinion to get his nerves calmed down. He took the elevator down to Rufus’s floor. The old cowboy answered the door on the first knock.
“Hey, Tony. Sorry to bother you, but I’ve got a real problem here.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Come inside and see for yourself.”
He entered the room expecting the worst, and was not disappointed. Everything was gone — the double bed, the night table, the couch, and the two chairs by the window they’d sat in earlier. Even the wall hangings and clock were gone. The place had been stripped clean, with Rufus’s clothes left in a sloppy pile in the room’s center.
“Who did this?” Valentine asked.
“The hotel,” Rufus said. “They really want me out of here.”
“Did they take any of your personal belongings?”
“No, they left those.”
“What about the twenty grand you won?”
“That’s in the vault behind the front desk,” Rufus said.
“Did you go downstairs and lodge a complaint?” Valentine asked.
“Sure did. They acted real concerned. Guy at the front desk said someone would be sent up to ‘look into things.’ That was an hour ago. That’s the thing I hate about this town. People will piss on your leg while swearing to you it’s raining.”
“How can I help?” Valentine asked.
The old cowboy removed his hat, and held it in front of his chest. “I hate to impose upon you, but I’m too old to be sleeping on the floor. I’d be forever grateful if you’d let me park these tired old bones on your couch.”
Having a roommate during an investigation was never a good idea. But Rufus had his pluses. He’d been the first to nail DeMarco for a cheat, and knew as much about playing poker as anyone alive. Valentine pointed at the pile of clothes on the floor.
“Let me help you with those,” he said.
They stowed Rufus’s clothes in the closet of Valentine’s room, his shaving kit beneath the sink. Rufus was testing the softness of the couch when Valentine approached him.
“I need a favor,” Valentine said. “I’m having dinner with a woman tonight, and was going to buy a shirt down in the men’s shop. I was thinking of blue.”
Rufus threw his legs up onto the couch, and stretched out luxuriously. The couch was not long enough for him, and his cowboy boots dangled over the end.
“Light or navy?” he asked.
“Navy.”
He decided the accommodations were to his liking, and brought his feet back to the floor. “Navy’s strong. You seeing that newscaster woman?”
“Yeah, we’re getting together later. Too strong?”
“No, navy’s good, especially with your dark features. How long you known her?”
“We met this morning.”
“Heck, I’m going to start calling you Sir Speedy.”
Valentine laughed under his breath. “She likes hearing about scams.”
Rufus patted the cushion beside him, indicating he wanted Valentine to sit. Valentine accommodated him, and watched the old cowboy remove a pack of Lucky Strikes from his shirt pocket and bang out a smoke.
“Sounds like a match made in heaven. She’s a smoker, isn’t she?”
Valentine nodded. Rufus placed the cigarette between his lips and took out a book of matches. He hesitated before lighting up. “Do you think it’s possible to light a cigarette, take four puffs, but not change the length of the cigarette?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think it’s possible,” Valentine said.
Rufus lit the match, and placed the flame in the center of the cigarette. It quickly caught fire, and he took four puffs without the cigarette shrinking in length. Valentine saw himself having fun with that, showing Gloria over dessert.
“Know any other pearls?” he asked.
“I know hundreds of the damn things,” Rufus said, exhaling two huge plumes of smoke. “Sometimes I think people take me up on them because they enjoy being hornswoggled. Say, do you mind if I help myself to something to drink?”
“Not at all,” Valentine said. “The minibar’s in the corner.”
Rufus went to the minibar and Valentine saw him remove the last Diet Coke. He sat down on the couch and started to twist it open, then stopped.
“Heck, that’s mighty rude of me. You want this?”
“Come to mention it, yes,” Valentine said.
Rufus was still holding the matches, and he tore one from the pack, then handed it and the pack to Valentine. “Light the match, and hold the flame lower than your fingers.”
Valentine lit the match and held the flame below his hand.
“How long do you think you can hold it that way?” Rufus asked.
The flame was racing up the paper match and starting to warm his fingers.
“I don’t know — five seconds?”
“Betcha this soda pop I can hold it for a minute.”
Valentine blew out the match that was starting to burn his fingers, and dropped it into an ashtray on the table. Then he tore a second match from the pack, and handed it and the pack to Rufus.