“Yeah, but Josh creamed you. Took all your money, as I recall.”
“Josh was good.”
“He took lessons. This might sound funny, but my brothers and I wanted to recruit you. We were trimming the bus boys on the weekends at poker. We wanted you to act as our take-off man.”
“What’s that?”
“The take-off man wins the money from the suckers. He has to be a square john that everyone trusts.”
“Sounds right up my alley,” Valentine said.
“That’s what we thought. Only you had the hots for Lois Fabio.” Izzie let out a laugh. “God, was she a little tart.”
Valentine lowered his cup. “How so?”
“I got her on the golf course one night and tried to hump her in a sand trap. She let me take off her bra, but not her pants.”
“She showed you her breasts?”
“Yeah. They weren’t that great.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me she was your wife?” Izzie wailed ten minutes later, holding an ice pack to his swollen left eye.
Valentine’s hand was singing with pain. If they kept reminiscing, he might end up killing Izzie, so he decided to get to the point. “Two nights ago, you and your brothers dragged a guy through the lobby of Resorts’ hotel, and our surveillance cameras caught you stuffing money back into his shirt. Who was he?”
Izzie lowered the ice bag. “Some guy named Vinny.”
“What was his last name?”
“I don’t remember.”
“How did you meet him?”
“I picked him up inside the casino, and brought him over to the house. There was a misunderstanding, and Josh broke a bottle over his head.”
“A misunderstanding?”
“Yeah. We decided to take him back to his hotel room. While we were dragging him through the lobby, the money fell out of his shirt. Being an honest person, I put it back.”
“Was he wearing a money belt?”
“I believe he was.”
“How much was in it?”
“A hundred big ones.”
“That’s a lot of cash to be carrying around. You think the guy was mafia?”
“Beats me.”
“What happened when you got him into his room?”
Izzie’s ice pack had sprung a leak and was trickling down his forearm. Turning it upside down, he reapplied it to his eye. “Vinny woke up. Didn’t remember a damn thing. We got him a beer from the mini-bar and turned on the TV. He really had amnesia. We shot the breeze for a while, then left.”
“I want his last name, Izzie.”
“Why don’t you call the hotel and ask them?”
“The name.”
“I told you everything I know,” Izzie said angrily.
“No, you didn’t.”
“You’re not going to drop charges?”
“No.”
Izzie threw the leaking ice bag at him. “You prick!”
Valentine jumped up and kicked Izzie’s chair out from under him. It was a move that Banko had taught every cop in Atlantic City, and Izzie hit the floor and yelped.
“Cut it out!” he cried.
“Come on, let’s make a deal,” Izzie said an hour later. Handcuffed to the leg of his chair, he sat with his shoulders hunched forward and a pained expression on his face. Stump had made a second appearance, and done a good job convincing Izzie that he and his brothers were going to the big house, where, because of their diminutive size, they would be brutally victimized by the other prisoners. As Stump had left, he’d shot Valentine a little smile.
“What kind of deal?” Valentine said.
“You want a scalp, right? Let’s forget Vinny, and talk about some real scalps.”
Valentine leaned back in his chair. “You know something I don’t?”
“I sure do.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Your casino is getting ripped off,” Izzie said. “My guess is, you’re losing fifty grand a week, maybe more.”
“To who?”
“Professional gangs of cheaters, working different shifts.”
“Cut the bull. Tell me Vinny’s last name, or the DA will throw the book at you.”
Izzie stared at him with his good eye. “You’re just like every other casino cop. You thinkyou’re smart. You’ve got the eye in the sky and video tape machines and the other gadgets. And that’s just great, except for one thing. I can beat that stuff, and so can plenty of other guys.” Izzie paused, then added, “Want to learn?”
Izzie was being serious. Valentine leaned forward. “What’s the price tag?”
“Let me and my brothers go.”
By law, Valentine had to let the Hirsch brothers go. Only Izzie was scared, and he decided to milk that fear as much as he could. Taking the handcuff key from his pocket, he uncuffed his prisoner from the leg of his chair.
“Show me,” he said.
Chapter 29
They drove to Resorts in Valentine’s Pinto. Along with being a fire trap, his car was also a lemon, and sputtered uncertainly each time he put his foot to the gas. Izzie seemed amused, and Valentine caught him smirking several times.
“If you can beat any casino, why don’t you live in Las Vegas?” Valentine asked.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Why, is Vegas dangerous?”
“The casino owners out there will put a bullet in your head and bury you in the desert if they catch you cheating. Road hustling is easy.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Yeah. Guys who cheat private games are called hustlers. Guys who travel and cheat are called road hustlers, and guys who cheat casinos are called cross roaders.”
“You know a lot of hustlers?”
“Sure. I bump into other hustlers in games all the time.”
“What do you say — ‘Hey, I was here first?’”
They had reached Resorts. The valet wrote up a ticket, and they walked through the front doors. “Say I’m working a game,” Izzie said, “and another hustler sits down, and starts cheating. I’ll talk about a hunting trip I took, and how I killed some rabbits. That’s a signal that I’m a cheater.”
“Rabbits?”
“That’s right. Usually he’ll ask in code if I’ll cut him in.”
“Will you?”
“Sure. It’s good etiquette.”
They walked around the packed casino. Izzie’s purple eye was drawing stares, and they went to the cocktail lounge and grabbed a table.
“So how did you learn this stuff?” Valentine asked. “Did you have a teacher?”
“Everyone in my family cheated,” Izzie said. “They taught me the moves, and I practiced in front of a mirror. Once I felt confident, I tried the moves out in a soft game. Then, I graduated up to bigger games.”
“How about cross roaders? What’s their deal?”
“Cross roaders are different. They’re tough people, and most have criminal records. They’ll get together in someone’s house, and practice a scam. Then they’ll try it out, like a casino night at a church. If they’re successful, they’ll hit Vegas. Or your place.”
“Sounds risky,” Valentine said.
“Depends on the ringleader,” Izzie replied.
“What does he do?”
“He scouts the casino and looks for green dealers. Casinos have such high turnover that you can usually find one on every shift. The team goes in, and sets up. They try the scam, except they don’t actually do it. It’s called a splash move.”
“As in getting your feet wet?”
“Right. If the dealer doesn’t squawk, they do it later for real.”
A waitress took their drink order. As Izzie flirted with her, Valentine stared through the lounge at the casino. He still didn’t believe what Izzie had said back at the station house about all the games being susceptible to cheating.
“When does the lesson start?” he asked.
Izzie made a grandiose gesture with his arm toward the casino. “Whenever you want it to, my friend.”
“Start with blackjack.”
A bowl of salted peanuts sat on the table. Izzie popped them into his mouth while speaking. “Gamblers call it BJ, as in blow job, because that’s what you get if you play by the rules. Want to know how many types of BJ cheating I’ve seen in Atlantic City?”