Fuck, fuck, fuck, she thought.
“These checks are from five wealthy dowagers who recently visited Las Vegas,” Trixie said. “You cheated these women at gin rummy, and stole their money. That’s shameful.”
“Those checks don’t prove a thing,” she said, unwilling to go down without a fight. “You’re drinking your own bathwater, Trixie.”
“Who told you my name was Trixie?”
“A little bird.”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong. One of your victims, Mrs. Goldie Hill of Pembroke Pines, Florida, filed a complaint with the Vegas police, who passed the case to the gaming board. I handled the investigation because I knew you were on our payroll. I called Mrs. Hill, and she told me how she’d written you a personal check to cover her losses, and that you got all teary eyed and said you didn’t want her money. You tore up the check and burned it in an ashtray. End of story, or so Mrs. Hill thought. When she returned home, a bank statement was waiting for her, saying the money was gone from her account. Admit it, you ripped Mrs. Hill off.”
The walls of the restaurant were starting to close in, the air difficult to breathe. Mags shifted uncomfortably in her chair, feeling trapped.
“I contacted your bank to see if there were more victims,” Trixie said. “They provided me with four more cancelled checks. I called the women whose names were on the checks, and got the same story. A pretty Irish lass cleaned them out at gin rummy by the pool, took a personal check, then had a fit of conscience and tore it up. When they got home, the money was withdrawn from their bank accounts.”
“That still doesn’t prove I cheated them,” she said.
“You’re not going to play ball with me, are you?”
“Not if it means hurting Billy.”
“Have it your way. Give me your purse.”
“No.”
“Give it to me, before this gets ugly.”
“Do it,” Frank said.
Mag’s satchel purse hung off the back of her chair. She tossed it to the gaming agent and the bag struck him in the face. Trixie reached for his belt as if to grab his handcuffs, then thought better of it. He poured her purse’s contents onto the table and sifted through the lipsticks, birth control pills, and other personal items as if prospecting for gold. The waitress hovered by the counter, watching with the same morbid fascination that drew motorists to car wrecks.
Trixie hummed to himself while picking through her things. Stripping Mags of her dignity was the kind of dehumanizing activity that made his day. Frank, on the other hand, was not having any fun at all and sadly shook his head.
I’ll get both of you back, Mags promised herself, if it’s the last thing I do.
Trixie checked her wallet last. It was made of faux leather and matched her purse. He pulled it apart, tossing her money and credit cards onto the pile. Inside a hidden compartment he found a stash of folded checks, which he held triumphantly in the air.
“These blank checks are my proof,” Trixie said. “When your victim is writing you a check, you dive into your wallet, find a check that matches the color, and hide it in your hand. The victim gives you the check, and you go into your act and pretend to tear up the check. But you don’t-you rip up the blank and burn it, destroying the evidence. That’s the scam, isn’t it?”
Mags was beaten. The scam was called the Tear Up and had been devised by card cheats to be used on long railroad trips, the idea being that the sucker would forget about the loss once the check was destroyed. It was one of the first scams that Lou Profaci had taught her.
“Now, are you going to play ball, or do I run you in?” he asked.
The moment of truth had arrived. Long ago, she’d decided that she was willing to do just about anything to stay out of prison. She took a deep breath before replying.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“Tell her,” Trixie said.
“We want you to make sure that Cunningham is inside Galaxy’s casino on Saturday afternoon,” Frank said. “We’re going to take Cunningham down along with Doucette.”
Her skin for Billy’s. Another deep breath.
“All right,” she said.
“You’re going to have to connect with Billy before the raid,” Frank said. “Find out where he’s staying inside the casino and tell us. He’s a slippery little shit, so we’ll need to know.”
“If I do that, will you tear up my contract?”
The two gaming agents nodded solemnly, as if those gestures meant anything.
“And this shit with the checks will go away?”
They both nodded again.
“I want it in writing,” she said.
“You’ll get it.” Trixie consulted his watch and rose from the table. “I’m glad we came to this understanding, Mags. I’ll let Frank fill you in on the details.”
“There’s one thing I’m not getting,” she said. “How are you going to take Billy down? You don’t know what he’s doing in there.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Trixie said. “Billy’s scum. We’ll trump up a charge if we have to. Just make sure he’s inside the joint when the raid happens. If you do that, you’re home free.”
She drew back in her chair. “You’re going to frame him? What kind of assholes are you? Just because you can’t catch him doesn’t give you the right to trump up a charge.”
“Keep your voice down,” he cautioned her.
“You’re pathetic excuses for human beings. Both of you.”
“Watch your damn mouth.”
“Fuck you.”
“We’re out of here.” Frank threw down money for the food. “Let’s go.”
Standing, she began tossing her things into her purse, the words spilling out in a mad rush. “Billy comes into your casinos and beats your games in front of your cameras and your so-called security experts, and you’re not clever enough to figure out how to stop him. People do that at the racetrack or the stock market, and they call them geniuses and give them their own fucking TV shows. Not you guys. When someone’s smarter than you, you frame him. And you wonder why people in this town think gaming agents are shit heads.”
“Don’t play self-righteous with me, you little cunt,” Trixie said. “Cunningham is a plague, and I’m going to do whatever I have to do to put him away. Did you know that he went to MIT on a full scholarship? Kid’s a mathematical wizard, could have been the next Steve Jobs or Bill Gates, but no, he decides to quit after a year, and come out here, and start stealing. He could have made a difference in the world, but he chose not to. That makes him a world-class scumbag in my book. And so are you for thinking he’s some kind of prince.”
She tossed her purse over her shoulder. The difference between cops and criminals was that criminals knew when they were breaking the law, while cops rarely did. Trixie had stepped over to the dark side, just as Frank had stepped over, and there was nothing she could say to either one of them that was going to convince them how wrong it was.
“Whatever you say,” she said, and headed for the front door.
THIRTY-SIX
Billy parked the Camaro in the employee garage. It was easy to tell it was the employee garage; half the cars were falling apart. He knew a cheat named Ace who frequented bars where casino employees hung out. Ace would scour the lot to see whose car was in the worst shape, find the owner, and begin the recruitment process.
The elevator was on the blink so he took the stairwell. He had a lot on his plate, all of which needed to get done in the next thirty-six hours. He had to make the Gypsies, get Tony G off Gabe’s back, and prepare his crew for an eight-million-dollar takedown. A few hours ago, he might have said forget it, but not now. Being around his crew did that to him. By himself, there was only so much stealing he could do. With his crew, the possibilities were endless.