“What do we do now?” Vinny asked.
Gerry felt his friends staring at him, and tried to think what his father would do in a situation like this. Whenever his father had a pressing problem, he usually ate something and drank a cup of coffee. Gerry had always thought it was something that cops did, but now saw the value in it. A little break in the action was needed, and he went inside the convenience store.
He emerged a few minutes later with a cardboard tray containing four cups of coffee and a bag of doughnuts. The sun was setting, and the fractured light lit up the sky. He offered the food to his partners. As he did, a tiny sparkle of light on the roof of their rental caught his eye. It was there for an instant, then disappeared.
Nunzie grabbed the bag out of Gerry’s hand, and peeked inside.
“Jelly doughnuts. These all for me?”
“Share them,” Gerry said. He handed Vinny the tray of drinks, then started to take off his shoes and socks. The three men stared at him.
“What are you doing?” Vinny asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re taking off your shoes and socks. You going to walk around barefoot?”
“That’s right.”
Gerry climbed onto the hood of their rental, then slid his body onto the roof. In its center he found a small, circular reflector similar to the kind used on bicycles. He peeled it off the roof, then climbed down.
“Look what I found,” he said.
The three men stared at the reflector while eating the doughnuts.
“The reflector can be seen from up in the sky,” Gerry explained. “We were being followed by helicopter. That’s how the construction worker from Voodoo Lounge traced our car.”
Vinny took the reflector from Gerry’s hand, and stared at it.
“Jinky was using a helicopter?”
“Not Jinky,” Gerry said. “The cops. This is how the cops follow people.”
Vinny stopped eating his doughnut, and his face turned pale. Gerry knew exactly what Vinny was thinking, because it was the same thing he was thinking. Jinky Harris had a cop with the Metro Las Vegas Police on his payroll, and was using that person to track their whereabouts with a helicopter, then send hitmen to whack them. They didn’t stand a chance against someone with those kinds of resources.
“So, what do we do?” Vinny asked.
Gerry took the last doughnut from the bag and bit into it. There was only one thing to do, and that was find his father, and ask for his help. He’d been doing that most of his life, and his old man had never let him down.
“Call my father,” Gerry said.
“So, call him.”
A white Impala pulled into the gas station and parked in front of the convenience store. It was an unmarked police car, and a uniformed sheriff got out. He touched the brim of his hat as he passed them, and entered the store.
Gerry took the reflector out of Vinny’s fingers, and walked over to the Impala. He glanced inside the store, and saw that the sheriff was at the counter with his back to him. Gerry placed the reflector onto the Impala’s roof, and pressed down firmly. Then he walked over to his friends.
“That should keep them off our trail for a while,” he said.
Part II
Juice
26
“I think I’m being watched,” Gloria Curtis said. Valentine had insisted on paying their dinner bill, and was struggling to figure the tip. The service had bordered on comical, with none of their courses coming out when they were supposed to. But the waiter still had to pay his rent and put food on the table, and Valentine didn’t see any point in penalizing him just because the guy hadn’t been properly trained. He calculated 20 percent before tax, and added it to the bill.
Then he looked into Gloria’s eyes. They were a hazel green, and very soft. She had a face that got prettier every time he looked at her. They’d been eating dinner for an hour, and not once had the conversation lagged.
“By who?” he asked.
She’d lit up a cigarette after they’d finished their desserts, and it had taken all his resolve not to bum one off her. She drew back in her chair, and took a deep drag.
“Someone inside the hotel.”
“Any idea who it might be?”
She shrugged, and seemed to be wrestling with how to proceed.
“I don’t know if I should be telling you this,” she said.
He studied her face. He’d learned a long time ago that a woman wouldn’t confide in a man until she trusted him. It didn’t matter who that man was — a cop, a lawyer, or even a judge. If she didn’t think he was trustworthy, she wouldn’t talk. He sensed the same thing was taking place with Gloria. She’d spent dinner getting to know him, but still had reservations. He decided to take a stab in the dark.
“I was hired by the Nevada Gaming Control Board to investigate the tournament,” he said quietly. “I don’t work for the hotel, or the tournament, or the casino. I’ve also never been employed by any of them before.”
“No ties, huh?”
“None whatsoever.”
She crushed her cigarette in the ashtray. “So what you’re saying is, if I can’t trust you, there probably isn’t anyone in the hotel I can trust.”
“That would be a fair assumption,” he said. Then he added, “If there’s someone spying on you, I’d be happy to help you get to the bottom of it.”
“You can do that?”
He glanced at his cell phone lying on the table. As a rule, he kept his cell turned off, and in his pocket. But being that his son was in Las Vegas and had hitmen trailing him, he’d decided to make an exception and keep his phone within reach.
“With a single phone call,” he said.
Her face took on a new look. “Really? You have that kind of juice?”
“Yes,” he said.
The waiter came and took the bill. He thanked Valentine, and as he was walking away, opened up the bill holder and stared at the tip. Satisfied, he began to whistle.
“Looks like you made his day,” Gloria said.
No sooner was the waiter gone than a Hispanic bus boy appeared. He cleared off the table, oblivious to the fact that they were still sitting there. Valentine decided it was time to give the maitre d’ a piece of his mind when Gloria stopped him. She wanted to talk, and suggested the bar next door.
A hostess dressed in black greeted them at the bar’s entrance. She explained that the bar was full, and she couldn’t let them in without reservations. Valentine slipped a twenty into her hand, and she led them inside and seated them at an empty table.
The bar was typical of Las Vegas drinking holes, and filled with loud, obnoxious men. A bottle blonde with gravity-defying breasts was behind the bar, simultaneously mixing martinis, Manhattans, and Latin-style drinks as the men cheered her on.
“Scotch and soda,” Gloria told the waitress.
“I’ll have a water,” Valentine said.
“Perrier or sparkling?” the waitress asked. She was also in black, from her nail polish to her nose ring.
“Tap, if you have it,” he said.
The waitress frowned, then picked up the drinks menu from the table, studying it to see if his request was printed with the other outrageously expensive drinks.
“I’ll have to ask the bartender,” she said.
“Please,” he said.
Gloria waited until the waitress was out of earshot before slapping the table and breaking out in uncontrollable giggles. Valentine was glad one of them found the situation funny. It made it almost tolerable.
“Who do you think is watching you?” he asked.
Gloria lit another cigarette. “Let me tell you what happened, and then maybe you can tell me. I got a call from Zack in my room this afternoon. He said another dealer in the tournament had passed out, and been sent to the hospital. We decided to go downstairs, and check it out. When I was in the elevator, I realized I’d left my wallet on the bedside table. I went back to my room, and found two hotel employees inside. They were standing by the closet, and jumped when I came in. They claimed they were restocking the minibar, but that was bogus.”