The lie was filled with enough information to make it sound right. Her tone softened.
“Little Billy plays golf. How cute. You any good?”
“Good enough to hustle.”
“Go ahead. Just be sure to pass any information to Marcus.”
“I’ll do that. I need to get some clothes from your men’s shop so I look the part. I promise not to spend too much.”
“Aren’t we being polite. Crunchie told my husband that he thinks you already know what the Boswell’s scam is, and that you’re holding out until Saturday afternoon so you can keep us to our word.” She paused. “Is that true?”
“I know part of the scam. It’s tied into the wedding.”
“Tell me, and I’ll go down on you.”
Normally, that kind of invitation got him all hot and bothered. Not this time around. Their last sexual encounter was still fresh in his mind, and he wasn’t about to take that kind of risk again. “Here’s what I figured out,” he said. “On Saturday afternoon, all of the men will be wearing tuxedos, while the bridesmaids will be wearing matching dresses. That’s important, because it’s going to let them trick your security guards while they rip you off.”
“Trick them how?”
“It’s called the Dazzle. The wedding party will converge around a designated area of the casino. The ringleader will give a signal, and everyone will start moving around and talking loudly. The movement will cause their outfits to blend together, and trick your security guards into losing count of how many people are in the party. A member of the party will duck out of sight, rig one of your games, and rejoin the group, with no one being the wiser.”
“You’re saying we won’t see a thing.”
“That’s right. Totally invisible.”
“Which game are they going to rig? You must have some idea.”
He’d given that aspect of the scam a lot of thought. The Gypsies would rig a game with the capability of a monster payout, like craps or blackjack, and would avoid games like keno, which rarely paid out. Telling her this was not in his best interest, and he stalled.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he said.
“You’re bullshitting me. I can hear it in your voice.”
“No, I’m not. I’ll call you if I learn anything.”
“Liar.”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Every chance you can.”
The connection ended, and he tossed Ike the phone.
Downstairs in the casual men’s shop he grabbed a few pairs of loud slacks off the racks along with several crayon-colored polo shirts. A peppy salesgirl followed him into the back and unlocked a dressing room stall with a brass key attached to the belt of her dress. She counted the slacks and shirts before letting him enter the stall.
“Sorry, but I got burned the other day,” the salesgirl said.
“Get a lot of shoplifters?” he asked.
“It only takes one. Anything stolen gets deducted from my pay.”
“Don’t they have a security camera in the store to stop that?”
“I wish. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be out front.”
“What about the other stores in the casino? Same deal?”
“Yup. The employees are responsible for the merchandise. It sucks, if you ask me.”
He went into the stall to try on the clothes. Every Strip casino had security cameras inside their retail stores to protect the merchandise. Galaxy didn’t, and he guessed there was a reason for that. By entering through a back way, Rock and his bodyguards could visit the casino’s different stores and not be filmed, letting the drug kingpin come and go as he pleased.
He had learned something important. He could use the retail stores inside Galaxy to move around the property and not be detected by the eye-in-the-sky.
He settled on a pair of hideous red slacks and a clashing navy polo shirt with wide green stripes. The clothes scored high on the ugly meter, and he spent a moment appraising his reflection in the full-length mirror inside the stall to make sure he hadn’t gone overboard.
A knock on the door. The salesgirl, checking up on him.
“I’m almost done,” he announced.
“Let me in,” a female voice said.
Not the salesgirl, too sultry. He unlatched the door, and a woman wearing oversized shades and a floppy straw hat meant for the pool stood outside. The face was too hidden to ring any bells, but her body’s tight curves left no doubt who it was.
“For the love of Christ, what are you doing here?”
“Oh my God, what are you doing in those clothes?” Mags asked.
“I’m going to hustle a guy on a golf course.”
“It figures you’d be up to something. I came here because I wanted to see you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, or your offer to join your crew. I want in, Billy.”
He’d told Mags he’d call in a few days, and that should have been enough to keep her happy. Before he could voice his displeasure, she tore away the shades and pulled off the hat, letting her dark locks fall on her shoulders and frame her gorgeous Irish face. That day in Providence came back in a thrilling rush, and his unhappiness melted away.
“God, you look beautiful,” he said.
She smiled and just stood there, torturing him.
“How’d you track me down?”
“I came to the casino earlier and was playing the slots. You came out of the elevator and entered the store, and I followed you.”
“I told you not to come back here. These people are animals.”
“I wore a disguise. I had to see you.”
Mags had been hustling nearly twenty years. She hadn’t lasted this long as a grifter by intentionally walking into bad situations. Her story wasn’t ringing true. He wanted to ignore it, but that was a mistake. He needed to find out why she was here.
“Let me pay for these clothes. Then we can talk,” he said.
He paid with his own money. It was quicker than charging the clothes to Doucette and having the salesgirl make a phone call to the casino boss to verify the charge. The salesgirl put his old clothes into a plastic bag and passed them over the counter.
“Have a nice afternoon,” the salesgirl said.
When he turned around, Mags was gone. A quick search of the store found her on a couch by the pants section. Knowing the store had no surveillance cameras made him feel comfortable enough to sit down beside her.
“I can’t believe we hooked up after all these years,” he said.
“Or that we’re going to be working together. When can I start?” she asked.
“I need to get this job finished up. Then I’ll introduce you to my crew.”
“When will you be done here?”
“Saturday afternoon. Let’s hook up on Sunday, grab some lunch.”
The answer seemed to satisfy her. She wasn’t prodding him for information or asking bad questions, and his earlier suspicions that she was up to something faded away, replaced by the delicious idea of them ripping off Vegas casinos together. What a wild ride that would be.
“I just remembered something. You dropped a photograph of your daughter on the floor in the cocktail lounge the other night.” He took out his wallet and rifled through the billfold. “Damn. It’s not here. I must have lost it.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty more. How’d you know Amber was my kid?”
“Come on-she could be your clone.”
“Acts like me, too, got a mouth on her you wouldn’t believe. She’s in community college, going to graduate in the spring. I’ve already got my ticket booked.”
“You must be real proud of her. What’s she majoring in?”
“I’m embarrassed to tell you.”
“Why?”
“She’s studying CSI. My baby wants to be a cop.”
They shared a laugh. Mags had a deep, throaty laugh, and he imagined hearing it in bed and how pleasing it would be. Hooking up hadn’t been right fifteen years ago, but now it felt okay. The age difference between them no longer mattered. He had caught up to her, and the long-awaited prize was about to be his. He decided to test the waters and dropped his hand on her knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. She didn’t seem to mind.