With irritation, Lovell took three fifties from his wallet and shoved them into Rices suitcoat pocket. The detective jerked away as though hed been fouled, fished out the notes and folded them into his wallet.
What if they refuse?
Sweet-talk them. If that doesnt work, suggest youll wander around frisking the patrons.
Theyve got clout. Theyll laugh in my face. Id be busted back to uniform duty in fucking Ipswich if I hassled the patrons.
Lovell was exasperated. Youre the cop. You know how to get cooperation out of people. Look, just tell them some flash types from the States have been working a scam in the casinos out here and you need to see if theyve hit the Monte Carlo yet.
Rice tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of his unmarked Sigma and thought about it. Lovell was in the front seat with him. The car was parked in a side street adjacent to the casino. Three young women flashed by the car on roller blades. They were leggy and deeply tanned, licking ice-creams. Their bikinis were brightly coloured scraps of cloth that might as well not have existed, and both men groaned, collapsing flesh and ice-cream into one serviceable image. Nurse saw them too. He was waiting outside the car, sitting palely fat and selfconscious on a wood and cast-iron municipal bench under a young palm tree.
Lovell nudged Rice. Look at him. What a prick.
Rice looked but it meant nothing to him. Who is he anyway?
He can ID the woman.
I dont know about this, Lovell. How do I explain the pair of you to their security people?
You flash your badge, they wont want to see if weve got badges too. Just say were part of the task force, whatever it is you bastards play at.
Rice looked hard at Lovell. The detective was overweight, neckless, fair-skinned, and he wore a prickly, carroty moustache and metal-frame sunglasses ten years out of date. He shook his head. You two are the least likely cops Ive ever seen.
Lovell looked out at the soft, fat banker and then down at his own long frame, his jeans and boots. Lets just try it, okay? So long as they think its for their own protection and we arent there to hassle the patrons, they wont think about us.
They got out of the car. Lovell motioned to Nurse, who wriggled his backside to the front edge of the bench, placed his hands on his knees, levered himself to his feet. He looked pink and damp and exhausted. Where are we going?
Youll see.
Saturday, five oclock in the afternoon. The Monte Carlo operated twenty-four hours a day but Saturday afternoons and evenings were the most popular times. The three men pushed through to the main room, Rice flashing his badge a couple of times to force a path. The air was heavily scented with perfume, tanning oil and aftershave lotion. The Monte Carlo was small and downmarket. Lovell saw men and women in shorts and running shoes; one woman wore a halter top, one man a pair of thongs. There were plenty of potted plants and marble surfaces in the main gaming room. The carpet was spongy, in shades of stain-concealing red and brown. And no clocks, no windows to the outside, in this twenty-four-hours-a-day world.
Rice led them to a set of steps against a wall at the side of the room. A sign said Private. Up here, he said.
They came to a mirror-glass observation platform that ran around all four sides of the big room. A couple of still, silent men in tuxedos stood looking down at the gambling tables. Other men watched banks of video monitors. A glass door was set in the wall next to the monitors. The sign on it said Security Manager.
Rice knocked and went in, showing his badge. Lovell and Nurse crowded in behind him. Detective Constables White and Brown, Rice said, waving his hand at them. I wonder if you could help us.
The security manager had the word Security monogrammed to his shirt. His tie had tiny dice all over it like insects. Pinned to the tie was a nameplate, Wayland. He stood, frowning at them. Depends.
Weve had word that a ring of scam artists is in town. They milked a couple of million off some places in Reno and Las Vegas before they got barred. Now theyre trying it here. We need to look at your tapes. See if we can spot them.
The security manager looked appalled. Which ones? We run eight tapes, continuous twenty-four hour loops. Could take you days.
Weve narrowed it down to early last night, Lovell said, say, between eight and ten, one of the roulette tables. He turned to Nurse, who was watching glumly. DC White was here with his wife last night and thought he recognised one of them. Which table was it, Danny?
They ushered Nurse to the mirror-glass wall. He looked down, pointed wordlessly. Table Five, the security manager said.
He turned away to confer with a man watching a screen. Lovell dug his forefinger hard into Nurses flank. Brighten up, for Christs sake. Try to act the part.
Nurse shook himself, breathed in heavily, tried to smile.
Wayland came back carrying a tape. We can watch it in my office.
Lovell took the tape from him. Im afraid this is still a covert operation from a police point, of view. Perhaps if you could show us how to work the machine and then leave us to do our job? Wont take long, and if we see anything that concerns the casino, youll be informed straightaway.
Wayland shrugged. Suit yourself.
When he was gone, they played the tape. The time was displayed in the top right corner. It read 18:00 at the start. Lovell fastforwarded until it read 20:30, then slowed it to one and a half times normal speed. At 20:40 Nurse stiffened. There.
Lovell froze the image. It showed the roulette table, Nurse arrested in the act of staring into the cleavage of a young woman wearing a cocktail dress. There was a grimace on his face that might have been a leer, a ghastly smile on hers.
Cant tell a thing, Rice said. Move it on.
Lovell pressed the play button again. Faces and bodies became clearer in movement. The men watched for a while in silence.
Not bad, Lovell said. Did you dick her, fat man?
Nurse seemed to struggle with the question. Sure.
Bet you didnt.
Lovell concentrated on the screen again. Wonder who she is.
I know who she is, Rice said. The big detective stretched, easing a kink in his back. A gust of body odour escaped with it. Her names Carol Something. Used to work for an escort service in the city. Came down here about six months ago.
Know where I can find her?
Rice regarded him carefully. Whats on your mind, Lovell?
I just want to talk.
Sure you do.
On the way out, Rice slapped the tape into the palm of the security manager and was full of apologies. Sorry, pal, false alarm.
Wayland looked unhappily after them. But who are we supposed to look out for?
Two blokes, youngish, tanned, Rice called, describing half of the men in the casino. The other half were oldish and tanned. They plunged down the stairs and out of the building.
On the footpath outside, Rice scribbled an address on a piece of paper. Youre on your own now, pal. Remember there are things I cant turn a blind eye to.
No worries.
Lovell watched him go. The detectives suit was too small, the fabric sweat-stained and caught tight in his armpits and groin. Girls in singlet tops were leaning on an open MG. Lovell saw Rice stop to eyeball them. The mans tumescent heat was almost palpable.
Lovell clapped his arm around Nurses shoulder. Right, Chuckles, time you went home.
Is that it?
Lovells eyes were fierce and deep like coals and ice. I dont think so, do you? This is just the beginning.
He watched Nurse walk away. The address Rice had given him proved to be a block of townhouse apartments on a canal. The area was new, transported palms set in manicured lawns, private jetties and massive yellow-brick houses straight out of Boys Town raffle brochures. Lovell pulled in behind a hot-pink VW Superbug and drew on a pair of latex gloves.