Funny Money by James Swain Read Free Book Online Page A

Porter swallowed his Adam's apple.
    â€œNo police,” he said.

7
    A Tree in the Forest
    A rchie's spare car was a Mercedes SL 600 coupe. It had more amenities than most third-world countries, and while sitting at a traffic light, Valentine played with the different buttons on the dashboard.
    He hit the button for the CD player and was assaulted by a throbbing rap song. The lyrics were about abusing women and killing cops, and he ejected the offensive music. Archie was of his generation—big band, Sinatra, the other crooners. This crap wasn't him at all, and Valentine tossed the CD into the glove compartment.
    His motel room had been cleaned, the tread marks fresh in the carpet. The red light on the bedside phone was blinking, and he dialed into voice mail. Two messages awaited him.
    â€œHey, Pop,” his son said. “I just got a call from my bartender. Big Tony took over this morning and fired everybody. He's running my bookmaking operation and has some scary colored guys collecting bets for him. I've got to get him the money. Call me, will you?”
    Valentine couldn't believe his son's nerve. The bar was
his,
and he wasn't going to pay for it a second time. He erased Gerry, then played the second message.
    â€œTony,” Mabel said. “I need your help. Please call me.”
    He glanced at his watch. It was nearly eleven thirty. He had promised to call Mabel every morning at nine sharp and hadn't done so once. He dialed his house.
    â€œGrift Sense,” she answered.
    â€œHey, kiddo, how's it going?”
    â€œThere you are. You must start leaving your cell phone on. I've got another panicked customer on the line.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œFrank Beck.”
    â€œNever heard of him.”
    â€œHe's the new head of security at Harrah's in Lake Tahoe. He's holding on the other line.”
    Harrah's was a good customer, and he sat on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned his jacket. “What's the problem?”
    â€œBeck thinks he has a dice cheater in his casino. This player wins money
every
time he bets. Beck can't figure out what he's doing.”
    â€œAsk Beck if the guy is throwing the dice, or just a bettor.”
    Mabel put him on hold, then came back. “Beck says he's just betting.”
    â€œAsk him to describe the type of bets the guy is placing. This might get a little complicated, so you'd better write it down.”
    She was gone a little longer this time.
    â€œThis is so exciting,” Mabel said when she returned. “The man is in the casino
right now.
Beck says he always puts $1,000 on the Field bet, $600 on Place bet on 10, $600 on Place bet on 9, $200 on 12 ‘On the Hop,' $200 on 11 ‘On the Hop,' and $600 on any 7. Whatever that all means!”
    Valentine closed his eyes and ran over the bets in his head. Opening them, he said, “Tell Beck I'll call him right back.”
    Mabel put him on hold. When she returned, she said, “Do you have any idea what this man is doing?”
    â€œYes. He's part of a crew. They're laying sixes. It's one of the oldest dice scams in the world.”
    â€œWhy didn't you have me tell him?” she asked, sounding a little miffed.
    â€œBecause I didn't want to embarrass him.”
    â€œWhy would that embarrass him?”
    â€œBecause if Beck knew anything about craps, he would have made the scam. Only he doesn't, which means he's new.”
    â€œIf Beck doesn't know anything, how did he get his job?”
    â€œHe must know somebody upstairs. That happens a lot in casinos. It's called having juice.” Valentine glanced at his watch. A minute had passed, and he had Mabel give him Beck's phone number. Then he said, “You still liking the job?”
    â€œIt's very exciting,” his neighbor said.
    â€œTalk to you later.”
    He hung up, then punched in Beck's number. Beck answered from the floor of Harrah's casino. He was panicking and sounded a heartbeat away from a stroke. Valentine