Ginger appeared with his order. “That will be thirty dollars, please.”
He paid her and added more money to her tip glass. “Thanks for not reporting me. Does Caesars always toss suspicious-acting people they find hanging around?”
“Heck no. We get people snooping around the property all the time,” she said. “Just last Saturday I caught a reporter from TMZ secretly videotaping a famous actress kissing a guy inside the casino. I alerted management, and they didn’t do a thing.”
“So why this week? What’s going on that warrants tossing people?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“But you know.”
“Of course. There are no secrets in this place. You’re not really a detective, are you?”
“You’re right, I’m not. What tipped you off?”
“You’re way too cute.”
“There’s a suit from the NFL visiting the hotel right now. Who is he?”
“Sorry, but that’s going to cost you.”
Another hundred found its way into her tip glass.
“His last name is Butz, first name Chester.”
“Chester Butz, the NFL commissioner?”
“That’s what I’m told.”
Chester Butz ran the NFL with an iron fist and did not take crap from the players. Billy was having a hard time believing the suit in Night Train’s suite was the same person. Using his cell phone, he typed Butz’s name into Google and did an image search. A montage of head shots appeared. Each matched the face of the guy talking to Night Train and his teammates.
“Believe me now?” Ginger asked.
“What’s Butz doing here?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
In Vegas, it was about being in the know, and it irritated Billy that Ginger knew the score while he was in the dark. She gave him a flirtatious wink.
“See you around,” she said.
Nineteen
It was time to go see Night Train. Billy left the cabana and went to the front desk, where the manager on duty had already been alerted of his pending arrival. The manager said, “Mr. McClain said you’d be coming. Do you know the way?”
“Yes, I’ve been here before,” he said.
While Billy took the long walk back to the villas, he tried to figure out why the head of the NFL had flown to Vegas to meet with Night Train and his teammates. There had been no agents or lawyers in attendance, which would have suggested that it was a friendly gathering, only the looks on the football players’ faces had suggested the meeting was anything but that.
Choo-Choo greeted him at the door. “I’m not playing cards with you anymore. Night Train’s on the patio waiting for you.”
He made his way back to the patio. Night Train sat at the head of the table with a shopping bag before him. He guessed the bag contained his winnings and took a chair.
“Want something to drink?” Night Train asked.
“I’m good,” he said.
Night Train slid the loot toward him. He opened the bag and had a look inside. Money made the world go round, and there was enough inside the bag to make it go around several times. From his pocket he removed Night Train’s father’s watch and placed it on the table.
“Here you go.”
“Don’t you want to count your money?”
“I just did.”
“You’re a hustler, aren’t you?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
Night Train picked up the watch and gazed at the inscription on the back. It was a cheap watch, but that didn’t diminish its value. Night Train’s old man had toiled for years to earn that watch, and his son kept it to be reminded of the sacrifices his father had made.
“I’ve been beaten at cards before, but never so quickly,” Night Train said. “You cheated us.”
“Takes one to know one,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You rang in a cooler on me, and I spotted it and spilled my drink on the cards.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Night Train’s cell phone rang. The famous football player cursed and dug through his pockets. Out came a fancy alligator-skin wallet, which was dropped onto the table, followed by the cell phone, which Night Train answered. He frowned and rose from the table.
“I’ll be right back.”
Night Train went into the villa and shut the door, leaving Billy to wait. Night Train’s denial didn’t shock him; the first rule of getting caught cheating was to deny it and make the accuser prove the allegation. Most people didn’t have the courage and would back down.
Ringing in a cooler during a card game required skill and timing, plus stacking the deck to be switched into the game. If one card was out of order in the stack, the scam wouldn’t work, and the victim might end up winning the money. Hustlers who used coolers relied on formulas to set up the cards. These formulas were written down and kept hidden in the hustler’s wallet. During the game, the hustler would take a bathroom break and use the time away from the table to set up the deck to be switched in. The formula would calculate the game that was being played, along with the number of players, thus ensuring that the hustler got the money.
Every hustler who employed coolers used formulas to stack the deck, and Billy had to believe that Night Train did as well. The formula was written on a piece of paper in the event there was trouble during the game and the hustler had to get rid of the evidence. This was done by crunching the formula into a ball and swallowing it.
He glanced through the glass door into the villa. Night Train was still talking on his cell phone. Reaching across the table, he picked up Night Train’s wallet and did a quick search. Every fancy men’s wallet had a secret compartment that was nothing more than a clever fold of leather; Night Train’s wallet was no different, and he extracted a slip of paper and unfolded it. As he’d expected, it contained Night Train’s winning formula for seven-card stud, the same game in which Night Train had switched decks and tried to cheat him.
Night Train was finishing his call. Billy placed the formula beneath the wallet so it was hidden from view. Night Train returned to the patio and took his seat at the table.
“Where were we?” the famous football player said.
“You were denying that you used a cooler on me yesterday.”
“I never cheated anybody in my life, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”
The best way to catch a cheat was to paint him into a corner with his own lies. Billy reached across the table and dramatically lifted the fancy wallet off the formula.
“What are you carrying this formula in your wallet for? Shits and giggles?”
Night Train was not going down without a fight. “Give me a break, man. That’s a game the team plays during trips. I wrote it down because it’s complicated, that’s all.”
“Nice try. Actually, it’s the stack you used in our game. There’s a code written across the top for easy reference: 6612. The first number tells you how many hands the deck is stacked for. In this case, it’s a six, which is how many players we had.
“The second number in the code tells you which hand will be the winner. That number is six, the last hand, which happened to be yours.
“The third number in the code tells you the strength of the winning hand. One is a four of a kind, two is a full house, three is a flush, four is a straight, and five is three of a kind. The third number in the formula is a one, meaning the winning hand will be a four of a kind.
“The last number tells you which player will get fleeced. In this case the number is two, the second player to the dealer’s left, my seat. I was supposed to get a full house and bet all my money thinking it was a winner. Only things didn’t work out the way you planned.”