“They won’t know what hit them,” the head of security said.
A half-hour later, Valentine, Doyle and Higgins were in Valentine’s office, toasting their good fortune. Not a single member of the gang had managed to get off the property. Handcuffed, they now sat in a holding room in the basement, waiting for a police van to take them to the station. The cocktail waitress was already showing signs of cracking.
“You boys learned the business fast,” Higgins said.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Valentine replied.
There was a return flight to Las Vegas that afternoon that Higgins wanted to catch, and when their drinks were gone, Higgins said he needed to run, and shook Valentine and Doyle’s hands, then departed. Doyle followed him out, and Valentine shut the door behind them, then sat at his desk and removed an Incident Activity Report from the drawer. Fitting the report into his typewriter, he started to write up what had happened, when his phone rang. It was Higgins, calling from the lobby.
“I need to discuss something with you in private,” Higgins said.
Valentine sensed something was up. “I’ll be right down.”
He met up with Higgins by the front entrance, and they went outside. Resorts’ valet was notoriously slow, and while they waited for Higgins’ rental to come out, his friend from Las Vegas explained what was on his mind.
“You’ve got grift sense, Tony. I saw it the first time I met you. You see things that nobody else sees. We could use you out in Las Vegas. I’ve got an opening in my department for a senior agent that I’d like you to consider. We’ll pay for you to relocate.”
Valentine was dumbstruck. It hadn’t been that long ago that Higgins had been teaching him the ropes, and it didn’t seem real that he’d now be offering him a job.
“What kind of money are you talking about?”
Higgins told him. The salary was twice what he was making, plus benefits. It was enough for he and Lois to stop skimping, and start saving for retirement. He’d been poor his entire life, which was why the words that came out of his mouth shocked even him.
“No thanks.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. It’s a generous offer, but I’m going to stay put.”
“Mind my asking why?”
Some answers were hard to put into words. Valentine guessed it had to do with his upbringing. He could still remember when Atlantic City had been the greatest place in the world to live, and he secretly longed for the day when the magic would return. Maybe it was a pipe dream, but sometimes those were the things that kept people going.
“This is home,” he explained.
Higgins smiled like he understood. His rental came up, and they shook hands. A few moments later he was gone, and Valentine went back to work.
Chapter 52
Back in his office, Valentine called Lois. Normally, catching a gang of cheaters left him feeling elated, only he couldn’t stop thinking about the anguish she’d experienced that morning. He caught her in the kitchen, fixing a casserole, and learned that a pair of detectives were parked on the couch in their living room, watching TV. Everything sounded fine, only there was an edge to his wife’s tone that didn’t sound right.
“You sure everything’s okay?” he asked.
Lois dropped her voice. “I got a call from Dick Henry at Gerry’s school. He needs to speak with you. I told him you were at the casino. He said he was going to drive over.”
“When was this?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
“Where’s Gerry?”
“In the basement. I pulled him out of school this morning, just to be safe.”
“Do you think Gerry’s in trouble?”
His wife’s voice dropped even lower. “God, Tony, I hope not.”
He started to hang up, then said, “You sure you’re feeling okay?”
Lois took a few moments to find the words. “I keep wondering why the killer didn’t come after me, instead of prostitutes. He’s fixated on me, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he just kidnap me, and be done with it?”
Valentine had wrestled with that question himself. He had a feeling that all the times he’d told guys to stop staring at Lois had something to do with it. That, and the fact that he was a cop.
“Maybe he was afraid to,” he said.
“Because of you?”
“That would my guess.”
“So you’ve been protecting me all this time, and we didn’t even know it.”
“Probably.”
“My hero,” she said softly.
He told his wife he loved her, and hung up. On his desk sat a video monitor, and he punched a command into the keyboard that was wired to it. On the monitor’s screen appeared the hotel’s valet stand, with a long line of cars waiting outside. He searched the drivers’ faces, and Dick Henry’s blow-dried hair popped up. He grabbed his overcoat and headed for the door.
Dick Henry’s car was at the front of the line when he walked out the front doors a minute later. Dick drove a souped-up red Corvette with a rag top, and Valentine jerked open the passenger door. “Looking for me?”
The principal of Gerry’s high school nodded, and Valentine hopped in. The car’s interior was in immaculate condition, and he said, “What year?”
“Nineteen sixty-six.”
“All original parts?”
Dick nodded and pulled away from the curb. He drove a few blocks south of the casino, then slowed down to avoid the gaping pot holes in the street. With all the money the state was making off the casino they still couldn’t fill the damn pot holes.
“I need your help,” Dick said.
“Doing what?”
“There’s a grocery bag in the back seat. Open it up.”
Valentine took the paper shopping bag off the back seat and peeked inside. It was filled with decks of playing cards and dice. He took the items out of the bag, and gave them a cursory examination. The cards were amateurishly marked, the dice either loaded or shaved. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’ve got gambling rings at your school again.”
Dick let out an exasperated breath. “We can’t seem to stop these kids. This stuff we confiscated this morning, along with a thousand dollars cash.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“I know it is. It has me worried. I feel like I’m dealing with real criminals.”
“Was my son involved?”
“With this? No.”
Valentine felt relieved and stared at the road. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’ve been told there is a magic shop in town which is selling this stuff to the kids. I don’t want to cause the owner trouble, but this has to stop.”
“Uncle Al’s.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah. He’s a decent guy, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“So you’ll talk to him.”
“Consider it done. Now, let me ask you a question. You said Gerry wasn’t involved with this. What is my son doing?”
Dick braked at a red light. The Corvette’s engine sounded powerful, and the car vibrated when it wasn’t moving, like an animal shaking its cage. He tapped his fingers on the wheel, as if contemplating his answer. “Your son is hanging out with a gang of older boys who are bookies.”
“What?”
“I can’t prove he’s doing anything wrong—”
“Real bookies?”
“That’s right.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Dick stared at a drunk crossing the street in front of them. “The boys patterned their operation after the teacher’s football pool.” The light changed, and he put the Corvette into drive, and the car jumped forward as it let out of its cage.