“Go away, Billy. Leave us alone.”
“We need to talk. I have a proposition for you,” he said.
“Not interested.” The trailer had a built-in dresser. Mags pulled open the drawers and removed her things, which she handed to her daughter while trying to ignore him.
“How come the set’s so quiet?” he asked.
“The show is on permanent hiatus.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe this will cheer you up. I’m doing a job and I need your help. Think of it as a last score for old time’s sake.”
“I told you, I’m done with grifting.”
“You haven’t heard the terms. I’ll pay you half a million bucks to paint cards.”
A plastic hairbrush bounced on the floor. Mags picked it up and tossed it to Amber. Her checking account had all of nine hundred bucks in it. Without the money from the show, she had no source of income and no immediate opportunities for work. She was flat broke and might end up living out of her car if her luck didn’t improve. No doubt about it, she needed a savior, but not this one. She’d promised herself she was going to stop thieving, and it was a promise she intended to keep, no matter how harsh the outcome might be.
“Not interested,” she said.
“It will be like stealing candy from a baby,” he said, unwilling to quit. “You’re going to paint cards in low-limit blackjack games, which are hardly watched by surveillance. The scam won’t take place until after you’re gone. You’ll be out of the line of fire.”
“My face is known to every casino in town.”
“You’ll be in disguise. They’ll never spot you.”
When opposing forces collide, bad things occurred. The urge to smack Billy in the face was growing stronger, and she turned to her daughter. “Let’s get some breakfast.”
Amber looked upset with her. Did her daughter want her to take the job? They left the trailer without saying good-bye and headed across the empty set. She heard the trailer door being shut behind them.
“Go away. I mean it,” she said.
“How can you run away from half a million bucks? Just answer me that,” he said.
“I don’t have to explain my decision to you.”
“Remember the day we met in Providence? You told me that you dreamed of coming to Vegas and joining a crew. You said the crews made the big money. I’m giving you the chance to fulfill that dream. Do one more job and walk away. You won’t regret it.”
Why wouldn’t he listen? She had made a clean break and kissed her past good-bye. No one had an issue with that except Billy. He was preventing her from escaping the black impulses that had consumed her for so long, and it made her want to hurt him. Reaching LINQ’s front entrance, she spun around. When he smiled, she slapped him.
“Last time. Leave me alone,” she said.
He brought his hand to his lips and came away with blood. It seemed to startle him, and he retreated a few steps. “Whatever you want, Maggie. But will you answer one question for me?”
“Will you leave if I do?”
“Yes.”
“Fire away.”
“If you were so intent on running away from being a thief, why did you agree to play a cheat in a TV show? How is that different from before?”
She swallowed hard. “Just... leave.”
“The answer is, it isn’t. You’re a thief and always will be. It’s in your blood. Think about it.”
“Go, damn it!”
“Nice meeting you,” he said to Amber before walking away.
Forty-Five
Pulling into the valet area of Turnberry, Billy spent a moment behind the wheel in thought. He had less than twenty-four hours to find a painter if the super con with the football players was going to succeed. That was hardly enough time with a casino scam.
Rushing a job was never smart, but he didn’t have any other choice. After this weekend, the football players were off to Phoenix for Super Bowl week, and his window of opportunity would be lost.
He scrolled through the names of local cheats in his cell phone’s directory. Painters were in short supply these days. The good ones were traveling the country fleecing the Native American casinos where the security was second-rate. He stopped on the name Casey Duvall. They’d worked together a decade ago running with a crew led by an old-timer named Crunchy. One night on a dare, Casey had painted all the high cards in a blackjack game at Bellagio using Vaseline, the jar conveniently tucked between his legs with the lid unscrewed. Casey had brass balls and would be perfect for this job. He called his old friend and heard him answer.
“Casey, this is Billy Cunningham. How you been, man?”
“Billy C, as I live and breathe, it’s good to hear your voice. What’s shaking?”
“I’ve got some business to discuss. You free tomorrow?”
“For you, man, of course.”
A rapping on the side glass made Billy jump. He turned his head to stare at the ugliest of sights. It was Grimes, and the special agent looked fit to be tied.
“I’ve got company. Let me call you later.”
“You know where to find me,” Casey said.
He ended the call and lowered the passenger window. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Let’s go for a ride,” Grimes said.
“Is something wrong?”
“There sure is.”
Maseratis were designed for people of smaller stature. Grimes climbed into the passenger seat and tried to put his seat back. When it didn’t budge, he let out a curse.
“Who designed this fucking car, a bunch of circus midgets?”
“Any place in particular you want to go?”
“Just drive around.”
The Las Vegas Country Club was Turnberry’s immediate neighbor. Billy did a slow loop around the emerald green eighteen-hole golf course wondering what he’d done to warrant a visit from Grimes. The special agent popped gum into his mouth and chewed vigorously.
“I have a problem that needs fixing. Broken Tooth hired a fancy lawyer out of LA named Max Stein. Stein was originally part of O. J. Simpson’s dream team, only he broke his ankle skiing and had to sit out the trial. Stein appeared in court today and told the judge that neither Broken Tooth nor his henchmen killed Travis Simpson, and that the body in the trunk of the rental was a frame-up. The judge ordered that we do a forensic test on the two handguns we found in the house. Guess what? Neither handgun killed Travis Simpson.”
“That’s a problem,” Billy said.
“Yes, it is. So here’s what I need. One of your friends shot Travis. Call him and find out where he ditched the weapon. I’ll go get it, and we’ll switch it for one of the guns we found at the house. Then we’ll run another ballistics test and get a match.”
“You didn’t share the first test with the judge.”
“That happens tomorrow. When it does, the test will be positive. Now make the call.”
They came to a red light. Billy braked and turned in his seat. “How do I know that you’re not wearing a wire and that this whole thing isn’t a setup to frame me?”
Grimes blew a bubble in the young hustler’s face that burst with a loud snap. “You think I’d incriminate myself and throw my career down the drain by what I just said? Wise up. I need the murder weapon, and I need it right now. Make the call before I get pissed.”
“What if my friend threw the gun over the Hoover Dam, and it can’t be retrieved?” he said. “What are you going to do then?”
“Your friend buried the gun in a deserted lot. I know that because I was a homicide dick for five years, and that’s what most killers do. The deserted lot is within a radius of two miles of where your friend lives, and it’s about three feet down in the ground.”