“Unreal,” Hud said. “You hardly see her hands move.”
“The guys at CBS are going to love this,” Rand gushed.
Mags walked away from the table feeling queasy. She’d scammed plenty of casinos with the Savannah and never had a problem. Yet performing the move in front of a camera tied her stomach up in knots, and it made her wonder if she was cut out to be an actress.
“Mom, are you okay?” Amber asked.
“I’m fine. What did you think?”
“I think you’re going to pass out if you don’t sit down. You’re all pale.”
Amber found a chair, and Mags fell into it. She’d been running ragged for days, the tension building up inside her like a pressure cooker ready to explode. The show was riding on her shoulders, and the fear of failure had become too great. She couldn’t handle it anymore.
“Stay put. I’m going to get you some water,” Amber said.
Her daughter left. Mags tried to get her act together. The show was her chance to set a positive example for Amber. Mom makes good had a nicer ring than Mom does time.
Amber returned with a bottled water and a guest in tow. It was none other than Special Agent Grimes with a pair of nickel-plated handcuffs clipped to his belt.
Oh shit, Mags thought.
Thirty
They moved the party to Mags’s trailer. While Mags and Amber took chairs, Grimes positioned himself so he blocked the door. Frank wasn’t like most gaming agents. The sole purpose of his life was to wage war against the town’s cheats and hustlers, whom he despised. Mags had slept with him for eighteen months and still marveled at the darkness of his soul.
“I’m going to destroy you,” was his opening line.
Mags lit up a menthol cigarette and blew a blue cloud in his face. “Really.”
“Does your daughter know about your past?”
“What Amber does or doesn’t know is none of your concern.”
“My mom beat the casinos, and you weren’t smart enough to catch her,” Amber said.
Frank looked like he just might snap. Out of his pocket came the photo of the three members of the Gypsies having lunch with the claimer, which he waved in Mags’s face. “I had these people in my crosshairs. You tipped them off and they blew town, and my investigation went up in flames. You’re going to pay for this, Maggie.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Frank, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”
“Let me refresh your failing memory. While I was giving you and Rand a tour of LINQ’s surveillance room, a tech named Blake made one of the Gypsies capping his bets at blackjack. You slipped into a restroom and either made a phone call or sent a text. A few minutes later, the Gypsy bolted and ran. We were right behind him, only his family had a getaway car, which the Gypsy hopped into. We got everything on tape, except the getaway car’s license plate.”
“What a shame,” Mags said.
“Admit it, you tipped him off.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Of course you did! Why else would the Gypsy run? For the love of Christ, he left his chips on the table. He knew we were going to bust him because you told him.”
“Where’s your proof?” Amber interrupted.
“Who the hell is she, your fucking lawyer?” Frank snapped.
“Watch your mouth around my daughter.”
“How touching. Maggie the doting mother. I can hear violins in the background.”
“Up yours, Frank.”
“Where’s your proof?” Amber repeated.
“Right here.” Frank flipped over the photo of the lunching Gypsies to reveal a phone number written on the back. “I distributed this photo to every tech on the Strip and told them I’d pay them a reward if they busted these guys. This particular photo was on Blake’s desk at LINQ. We know that because Blake identified it for us. The phone number is a friend of his. You had a conversation with Blake, then asked him where the restroom was. When Blake wasn’t looking, you swiped the photo off his desk and later passed it to the Gypsies.”
“I did no such thing. I’ve never met these people in my life.”
“Look, Maggie, the Gypsies run in a pack, and it occurred to me they might be renting a house. So I made Airbnb cough up the names of houses rented in the past few weeks, and I checked them out. The last one, on the north side, was empty. But we found the photo lying on the grass by the driveway. And since we can place you in the LINQ surveillance room the last time the photo was seen, we can connect you to them.”
“No jury will buy that. Give me a break,” Amber said.
“I’m not talking about a jury,” Frank said. “If I convince a judge that your beloved mama is attempting to defraud the casinos, he’ll let me turn her life upside down. I’ll look at every cell phone call, every e-mail, every bank statement. No stone will be left unturned.”
“You won’t find anything,” Amber said. “My mom doesn’t do that stuff anymore.”
“You might be right. Maybe we’ll turn up nothing,” Frank admitted. “But she’ll still have to hire a lawyer. She won’t be able to act in her precious TV show because she’ll be too busy defending herself. We’ll still win.”
Mags rose from her chair. “No, you won’t. I’ll take a lie detector test and say that I’ve never met the Gypsies in my life. And your stupid investigation will end.”
Frank slipped the photo into his jacket pocket and smiled. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll make sure not to administer a lie detector test.” Mags and Amber both started to protest, and he shut them down. “In case you forgot, my career is riding on this case. And that means more to me than all the tea in China. Get it, Maggie?”
“I don’t know them, Frank. You have to believe me.”
“I do believe you. But that doesn’t mean I care.”
“You dirty shit.”
“Is that all you’ve got left in your sling? Pick up the phone and start calling your grifter friends. Find out where the Gypsies are. If you don’t, I’ll destroy you.”
“This is blackmail.”
“I won’t argue with you there. Have a nice day.”
Frank walked out of the trailer. Rand was standing behind the door and nearly got his nose broken. He had heard every damn word and looked fit to be tied.
Rand entered and shut the door. “How do we make this go away?”
Mags shook her head, defeated. “I have no idea.”
“Will he take a bribe?”
“You want to give him money? We could all go to jail.”
“We could have the carpenters working the shoot put new countertops in his kitchen. The wives always dig that.”
“Jesus Christ, Rand. You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What about appliances? All name brand. He can’t say no.”
“That’s not going to work.”
Rand was a Hollywood charmer. A knife could have been sticking out of his gut and he still would have managed to exude optimism. The smile slowly disappeared, revealing a deeply troubled man. “CBS has budgeted two million bucks for this pilot. If the shoot gets shut down, everyone will be fired, and my deal with CBS will fall apart. You need to fix this, baby.”
“I don’t know how to fix it,” Mags said.
“You swiped that photo. You had to realize there would be consequences if you got caught.”
Rand glanced across the trailer at Amber leaning against the fridge. His eyes stayed longer than they should have, then returned to Mags.
“I’m sure you and your daughter will think of something,” he said.
Thirty-One
Leaving Royal Links, Billy rolled down his window and let the desert air warm his skin. When he’d first landed in Vegas, he thought he’d walked into a pizza oven. Over time he’d gotten used to the intense heat and found himself looking forward to days when it broke a hundred degrees and the grass turned brown before his eyes.