“He’s downstairs in the lobby,” Valentine said.
“Very funny. What do you want?”
“Can I sit down?”
“No.”
Valentine got a chair anyway, and sat down beside Callahan’s bed. There was a faraway look in Callahan’s eyes, and he shifted his gaze to the view of distant mountains circling the pinkish horizon.
“Nice view,” Valentine said.
“It’s pollution.”
“I busted you how many years ago?”
“Fifteen,” Callahan said.
“And you’ve been doing business ever since.”
The muscles in Callahan’s neck tightened, and he continued to look away. “I haven’t been cheating, if that’s what you mean. What happened in Atlantic City was a one-time thing. I was down on my luck, and made a mistake. I paid my debt to society.”
It sounded like a speech a lawyer had written for him. Valentine found himself staring at Callahan’s hands, which rested above the sheets. The nails were manicured by decades spent riffle-shuffling cards and were polished by smooth felt tables. They were a card mechanic’s hands, and Callahan guiltily pulled them beneath the covers.
“I want you to leave,” Callahan said.
“Just answer one question for me.”
“No.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Cold-deck the game in Atlantic City? I needed the money.”
“No, why did you cheat the World Poker Showdown, and signal the cards you were dealing to Skip DeMarco?”
Callahan’s face clouded with anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do.”
Callahan pulled himself up in his bed, and looked around for the call button, which was attached to a string and hung from the wall. The string was hanging behind the bed, out of Callahan’s reach, and Valentine made no attempt to retrieve it for him. “Get out of here, or I’ll start yelling my head off, and have you thrown out.”
Valentine rose from his chair. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed making creeps uncomfortable; it was one of the great perks that came with being a cop.
“I want you to think about something. You’ve beaten your cancer before, and you just might beat it again. If you do walk out of here, you’ll be facing a murder rap. Is that how you want to spend the rest of your life, in jail?”
“A murder rap?”
“That’s right.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Valentine put the chair back against the wall, and went to the door. “It’s been nice catching up with you. I’ll tell my partner you said hello.”
“Come back here,” Callahan said angrily.
“You’re not going to have me thrown out?”
“No, I want to hear about this.”
Valentine got the chair back, and returned to Callahan’s bedside. This time when he rested his elbows on the metal arm, Callahan did not look away.
“It’s like this,” Valentine said. “George Scalzo stole a poker scam from a guy named Jack Donovan. Jack was dying at the time, and Scalzo had Jack murdered so he wouldn’t squeal. Only, Jack did squeal.”
Taking out his wallet, Valentine removed the playing card that Jack had given Gerry, and showed it to Callahan. “This is our evidence. George Scalzo is going down, and so is his nephew. The question is, do you want to go down with them?”
“Can I see it?”
He let Callahan hold the playing card. Callahan stared at the card for a few moments, then handed it back.
“Is that your evidence?” he asked.
“That’s part of it,” Valentine said. “Do you want to go down the river with them or not?”
“Tell me something first,” Callahan said.
“What’s that?”
“This guy Donovan, what was he dying of?”
The hairs on the back of Valentine’s neck went straight up. He wanted to ask Callahan what that had to do with anything, but sensed that he’d blow whatever rapport he’d established.
“Cancer.”
“You said he was terminal.”
“Yes,” Valentine said.
Valentine saw Callahan’s eyes shift, and stare at the playing card that Valentine held in his hand. There was a connection here that he wasn’t getting, and he didn’t know how to press Callahan without revealing that he didn’t know how the scam worked. That was the problem when working with too little information. Sometimes, you got yourself painted in a corner and couldn’t get out.
“Afraid I can’t help you,” Callahan said.
Valentine stood up. “We’re talking about life in prison, Ray.”
Callahan’s face was vacant. He’d seen through the ruse, and wasn’t buying it.
“Don’t let the door bang you in the ass on the way out,” he said.
44
If there was a dead time on the congested highways of Las Vegas, it was midday, when everyone was at work. Valentine made it back to Celebrity in fifteen minutes, and walked through the hotel’s front doors with the picture of Gerry clutched in his hand. His son was being held somewhere in Las Vegas, and he wasn’t going to leave until he rescued him. Upstairs in his suite he found Rufus Steele sitting on the couch, counting the money he’d won that morning.
“Hey pardner, long time no see.”
The money was stacked in piles on the floor. Real gamblers did not use checks, and nearly all of Rufus’s winnings were in hundred dollar bills, most of them brand-new. Over the years he’d heard gamblers call money “units,” and learned that it wasn’t the value that was important, just the level of the action that the units allowed the gambler to play.
“I need your help,” Valentine said.
Rufus was wrapping the stacks with rubber bands, and looked up. “Well, it’s about time I returned you a favor. Name it.”
“I need for you to stage one of your scams later today, and get as many gamblers as you can involved. I’ll make sure Gloria Curtis is there. I’m going to alert the World Poker Showdown people to be there, and I want you to say some things about the tournament which aren’t particularly flattering.”
“Sounds right up my alley,” Rufus said. “What exactly am I going to say?”
“You’re going to announce that you’ve learned that the dealers in the WPS haven’t been cleared by the Metro Las Vegas Police Department, which makes them the only dealers in the state of Las Vegas who haven’t. You’re also going to say that you’re aware that one of these dealers has a criminal record for cheating.”
The fun drained from Rufus’s face and he gazed at Valentine with renewed respect. “Sounds like your investigation is moving right along.”
“It sure is.”
“The World Poker Showdown is behind this whole thing, aren’t they?”
“Let’s just say there’s a link which I need to get to the bottom of.”
“Just so I don’t get sued for slander, who’s this dirty dealer?”
“His name is Ray Callahan,” Valentine said, “and I busted him in Atlantic City for cold-decking a game fifteen years ago. He’s got a record.”
Rufus glanced at the piles of money at his feet. Just a few short hours ago, he’d been poorer than a church mouse, but that, as gamblers liked to say, was ancient history. Still looking at the money, he said, “Tony, your timing is impeccable. Right after you left, I got into a verbal altercation with the Greek and his friends. Seems they thought about my X-ray vision stunt, and didn’t like the fact I had a bag over my head.”
“You think they knew you were using a ventriloquist?” Valentine asked.
Rufus did a double take. The look on his face was priceless, and Valentine wished he had a camera with some film in it. The old cowboy coughed into his hand.