“I said I had an idea, that’s all.”
“That’s half a movie, with holes in it.” Harry looked at Karen. “Maybe forty minutes of screen time.”
Karen said, “How did you know Harry was here?”
Like that, getting back to it.
“His car’s in the garage,” Chili said.
“You called, that was four days ago. How did you know he’d be here this evening?”
“I’ve been stopping by. See if there’s a gray ’83 Mercedes around with ZIGZAG on the license plate.”
“So you walked in. What if all the doors were locked?”
“I would’ve rung the bell.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry said. “The guy’s a friend of Dick Allen’s. He’s not gonna take anything.”
“It might be okay with you,” Karen said. “What you’re doing, Harry, you’re bringing your dirty laundry into my house and I don’t want it.”
Chili felt she was going to keep talking but Harry moved in saying he should’ve rung the bell. Why didn’t he? Chili said he wanted to surprise him, catch him with his pants down, so to speak. A little humor there. Nobody laughed though or even smiled. Karen asked, what if she had called the police? Chili told her Harry would’ve explained to them it was okay, just like he explained it to her now. She stared at him and he stared back at her until Harry told him, well, anyway, he had the beginning of an idea but it was full of holes.
“In the first place,” Harry said, “it’s not believable the wife would get a settlement that fast. From an insurance company? Without them checking her out?”
“They did,” Chili said. “I didn’t tell you all the details, how nervous she was about it and all.”
“Harry doesn’t realize it’s a true story,” Karen said.
They were both looking at her now.
“That Miami flight that went down in the Everglades, it was on the news every day for about a week, covering the investigation, interviews with witnesses, relatives of the victims from around here . . . Harry was busy.”
Chili caught the tone. So she knew about Harry’s problems, but wasn’t exactly crying over them.
Harry was squinting, as if to get his memory to work, saying, “Yeah, on the news . . .” and then turning to Chili. “That’s where you got the idea.”
“Part of it, yeah.”
“And you made up the rest.”
“No, it’s all true, Harry, everything I told you.” This got him squinting again. Chili could see his mind working. He expected to hear from Karen, but Harry was staying with it.
“The part about the shylock?”
“Everything.”
“Wait a minute. You’re not the guy, are you?”
Chili said, “You mean Leo?” shaking his head. It was getting good.
“You wouldn’t be talking to me if you were.”
“I’m not the guy, Harry.”
Again he expected Karen to jump in and say something as Harry started thinking, looking up at the pots and pans before getting an idea.
“You know the wife?”
“Yeah, I know her. Fay.”
Harry seemed to like that. It got him hunched over the table. “You’re related to her. Wait— you’re her brother.”
Chili shook his head, not giving him any help.
“But you’re a close friend. She asked you to help her find her husband.”
“I talked to her, that’s all.”
Chili waited. Harry was still thinking of it as a movie instead of real life. You could see him going over the story in his head, trying to come up with the answer. Staring at his glass now to see if it was in there.
Harry said, “Okay, the guy goes to Vegas . . .” Then stopped and looked at Chili. “How’s the wife know for sure that’s where he went?”
“Take my word for it.”
“Okay, he’s in Vegas,” Harry said, “he can’t trust anybody . . . So he uses an assumed name. Right?”
“Larry Paris.”
“How do you know?”
“Trust me.”
“Okay, he starts gambling, gets hot right away . . . Wait a minute, you made that part up. The guy doesn’t win. That’s it—he not only doesn’t win, he blows the entire three hundred thou, gets into Mesas for a chunk of dough and they send you to find him.”
Now he was back to real life, putting in things he knew, but still making it sound like a movie. Chili felt like saying to him, See? Not a bad idea, huh? At least so far. But Harry was still talking.
“It’s what you do, working for the casino. It’s why you’re here tonight.”
“You’re close,” Chili said, “but you’re coming at it wrong. I’m looking for the guy, yeah, but it wasn’t the casino sent me. They asked would I look you up, that’s all.”
“Which I resent,” Harry said, “and believe me Dick Allen’s gonna hear about it.”
“Okay, but getting back,” Chili said, watching the way Harry was staring at him, still interested, “where you think I fit in the picture?”
Karen said, “Harry, for God’s sake,” sounding bored.
They both looked over at her, Harry saying, “What’s the matter?”
“He’s the shylock,” Karen said.
She was staring at him again as Harry said, “Is that right, that’s what you do for a living?”
“What I did up till recently,” Chili said, still looking at Karen. “After I get done here I’ll think about what I’m gonna do next.”
Karen straightened, where she was leaning against the doorjamb. “With your experience,” she said to Chili, “you could always become an agent. Right, Harry?”
“Yeah, that’s what we need,” Harry said, “more agents.”
Still looking at Chili she said, “Well, if I don’t see you again . . .” gave him kind of a shrug and walked away, left them.
“She’s upset,” Harry said.
“You think so?”
She didn’t seem upset to Chili; he thought she had it together, handled it just right.
“You should’ve rung the bell,” Harry said, hunching over the table. “But getting back for a minute—it was the guy’s wife told you where he went, huh?”
“Yeah, Fay. She felt it was her money more’n it was his,” Chili said. “So she offers me half of whatever I bring back, if I find Leo and he has any of it left.”
“You didn’t mention this before.”
“You said keep it simple.”
“But what it does,” Harry said, “it adds a whole new dimension to the story. So you went to Las Vegas but did-n’t find him. The guy stayed a jump ahead of you.”
“No, I found him,” Chili said, and paused.
Harry, waiting, seemed more interested now than he did before.
“You want to hear about what happened in Vegas?”
6 
The next evening after the visit with Fay he was in Las Vegas, checked into the Golden Nugget and on the phone with Benny Wade, the man in charge of collections at Mesas. Chili knew him well enough to call his house, tell him he was in town looking for a Leo Devoe and didn’t have much time, a couple of days . . .
“Never heard of him.”
Chili said to Benny somebody must know of a flashy kind of guy comes to town with three hundred grand. Benny said high rollers left their money at home and played on credit; this guy sounded like a runaway, the kind dreams of making a score and then flying down to Rio by the sea-o.
“Can you check for me? I’ll do you one gratis.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Where are you?”
“The Nugget, downtown.”
“What’s the matter with Mesas? Give you casino rate.”
“The Strip,” Chili said, “you have to get a cab to go anywhere. Here, you walk out the door you’re in Vegas.”