But today felt a little strange. He had plenty to do — with six e-mails having come in since last night — but his enthusiasm was not there. Perhaps it had something to do with the cryptic note he’d found stuffed in his newspaper from Gerry. His son had taken his family to San Juan early that morning, and promised to call in a few days.
Valentine stared out the window onto his backyard, and tried to put his finger on why he felt out of sorts. It took only a moment for him to realize what was wrong.
He was alone.
He’d battled loneliness since his wife had died, and considered it his greatest nemesis. He needed to stay engaged, regardless of the task. He was still staring out the window when his office line rang. He answered the phone without enthusiasm.
“Tony, is that you?” It was the familiar voice of Bill Higgins. Director of the Nevada Gaming Control Board, Bill was responsible for policing Nevada’s casinos. They had been close friends for over twenty-five years.
“Sure is. You’re up early.”
“Just doing the Lord’s work,” Bill said. “I’ve got a problem that I was hoping you could help me with.”
“Help’s my middle name,” Valentine said.
“Good. Are you familiar with the World Poker Showdown?”
“Sure. Largest open poker tournament in the world, held in Las Vegas for eight days every year, over five thousand players competing for a ten-million-dollar grand prize. This year’s event is being held at Celebrity’s new casino.”
“I didn’t know you stayed up on the poker stuff,” Bill said.
“Beats playing shuffleboard.”
“There you go. There’s an old-timer entered in the tournament named Rufus Steele. His nickname is the Thin Man. You know him?”
Valentine smiled into the receiver. Rufus was the last of the true Texas gamblers, and had never met a wager he didn’t like. “I helped Rufus out of a jam in Atlantic City twenty years ago. You know what they used to say about Rufus? If he stood sideways and stuck his tongue out, he’d look like a zipper.”
“Well, the zipper is kicking up a storm. He got knocked out of the tournament last night, and started yelling that he’d been cheated. The tournament is being televised this year by one of the sports channels, so of course they interviewed him. It’s making all the casino owners in Las Vegas nervous.”
“How so?”
“Poker has been Las Vegas’s salvation since 9/11,” Bill said. “It draws more players with money than any other game. It’s keeping the casinos happy.”
“And Rufus saying that he got cheated in the biggest game in town might kill the goose that laid the golden egg,” Valentine said.
“Exactly.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Two things. The interview is going to be shown on television again. I’d like you to watch it, and see if you think Rufus has a legitimate beef. If he does, I’d like you to watch a surveillance tape of Rufus’s table in an e-mail I’m about to send you.”
Valentine stared at his computer screen. The six e-mails he’d received last night were from casinos that paid him monthly retainers. He needed to address them, but didn’t want to leave Bill hanging. He didn’t put money before friendship, and never would.
“When does the interview come on?”
“Ten minutes.”
“I’ll have a look, and let you know what I think.”
The only new thing Valentine had purchased since moving to Florida was a giant-screen TV, and that was because his old TV had gotten blown out during a lightning storm. Sitting in his La-Z-Boy, he hit the power on the remote, then surfed through the hundreds of channels he paid for but never watched, until he hit upon the sports channel showing the World Poker Showdown.
To Valentine’s way of thinking, poker tournaments were the only real competitive sport on TV. No one was getting paid except the blow-dried announcers, and every player paid an entry fee. He wondered how the prima donnas in baseball and football would feel if they had to pay to play their games in the hope of winning a prize.
An announcer named Gloria Curtis appeared on the screen. She’d been a big-time sports analyst for years, then gotten sent down to the minor leagues of cable. Valentine had always liked her and turned up the volume.
“This is Gloria Curtis, reporting from this year’s World Poker Showdown in Las Vegas. I’m standing here with poker legend Rufus Steele, who was knocked out of the tournament last night and is crying foul over what happened at his table.”
The camera pulled back, and Rufus Steele entered the picture. He still looked like an advance man for a famine. He wore his usual cowboy garb — boots, blue jeans, and a denim shirt buttoned to the neck — and could have stepped straight out of a rodeo. His Stetson was held politely in his hands.
“Rufus,” Curtis said, “could you explain to our viewing audience what happened last night?”
“I was cheated,” Rufus said, staring into the camera.
“Can you explain how you were cheated?”
“I’d be happy to. The tournament starts with everyone having two hundred dollars in chips. As a result, everyone plays tight. Now, the tournament directors also move players around every hour to keep things fair.”
“I’m with you so far,” Curtis said.
“Good. The second hour into the tournament, I was up two hundred dollars, and doing the best at my table. Then the tournament director brought over a new player. This player had fourteen hundred dollars in chips, which put everyone at a disadvantage. Within an hour, this player knocked several players out, including myself.”
“How is that cheating?” Curtis asked.
“The cheating occurred at that player’s previous table,” Rufus said. “It is statistically impossible for that player — who is an amateur — to have won that much money in such a short amount of time.”
She looked flustered. “But Mr. Steele, you’re playing cards. People get lucky.”
Steele gave her an icy stare. “Ma’am, are you familiar with something called the Poisson distribution?”
Gloria Curtis shook her head no.
“The Poisson distribution is a mathematical method of analyzing rare events. One assumption of the Poisson distribution is that the chance of winning is equally distributed. Every individual should have an equal chance when it comes to a game of cards, or playing the lottery. Make sense?”
“Certainly,” she said.
“Well, I went back to my room, and used the Poisson distribution to analyze the chance of that player being the only player in this tournament to have won that much money in such a short period of time. Would you care to know what the odds are?”
“Please.”
“Six billion to one. Where I come from, that ain’t called luck.”
Valentine heard the phone ringing in his study. He killed the power, and walked to the back of the house while thinking about what Rufus had just said. Rufus looked like a bumpkin, but it was just an act. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have lasted as long as he had.
He picked up the phone, and heard Bill say, “So, what do you think?”
“I’d say you’ve got a problem,” Valentine told his friend.
9
“You think Rufus was cheated?” Bill asked.
“It sure sounds that way.”