Read Online Lucky Break by Deborah Coonts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Coonts
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kinks in the system, but ask Jerry what he has.” The Head of Security at the Babylon, Jerry had been helping me refine the security system at Cielo. With no gaming on the premises, Cielo’s security wasn’t as sophisticated or refined as the system at the Babylon, but maybe he had something that might help. “Maybe you could get a bead on Kimberly Cho as well.” I gave him the skinny of our disappearing P.R. agent.
Jeremy stood. Stepping behind his chair, he held the back in both hands. “What about the prison? Maybe he said something to a cellmate.”
“I’ll take care of that. I am at the top of Ol’ Irv’s hit list. Maybe somebody might like to tell me how much he hated me and what he planned to do about it.”
Saturday night, the energy level at the Babylon at full-throttle, I decided to swing by Security to see if I could catch Jerry. The man worked almost as much as I did, so the odds were good. I fielded a couple of texts from Jean-Charles. Having someone check on me was a new thing—I think I liked it. No, I did like it; it just took some getting used to. We’d meet back at his restaurant when I’d finished with Jerry, if I found him.
Jerry kept the main room in Security dark, so after stepping inside, I needed a moment for my eyes to adjust. Monitors tic-tac-toed the far wall, each showing different views of the gaming tables: the players, the dealers, and a bird’s-eye view where experts could watch the hands dealt and the player’s movements, looking for a card drawn from the bottom or one pulled from a sleeve and all the more subtle tricks I didn’t want to know about or think of. Other clusters of monitors huddled in groupings around the large room, each showing different parts of the hotel and each monitored by one staff member. Safety, not only for the house’s money but also for those who donated to the cause, was a top priority.
My luck held. Jerry, his back to me, his hands clasped behind him, his feet spread, watched the ever-changing landscapes in front of him. He tossed me a sideways glance as I stepped in beside him. “Man, bad stuff tonight.” The stale smell of cigarettes clung to him, which always intrigued me, given the Big Boss had turned every square inch of the hotel into a non-smoking environment. Scratch that—the great State of Nevada, with local assistance, had pulled off that bit of illogic. Like hotdogs and mustard, gambling without smoking just wasn’t the full experience. The men groused, but the ladies in their Dolce and Chanel No. 5 on the way to a fancy evening loved the new, perfumed Vegas. I still straddled the fence.
Jerry and I had worked together so long we were family. When I’d had problems with the Big Boss, I’d turned to Jerry. When Teddie had taken a powder, Jerry had been the one to help me put my pieces back together. Tall and thin with dark skin, a bald pate that he shaved and waxed, a bright, infrequent smile and tired written all over him, Jerry still wore yesterday’s suit and today’s problems. He ran a hand over his head—a habit ingrained long before the hair had departed.
“They ever let you go home?” I nudged him with a shoulder.
“No reason to; wife’s out of town.”
“And you decided to wallow in a vice or two while she’s gone?”
“That bad?”
“Eau de Ashtray. Not sure you want to go hang with my mother. She’ll make you wish those cancer sticks had already killed you.” I didn’t understand, in light of all we knew, why people kept smoking. Of course, I often overindulged my affinity for Wild Turkey, so crawling up on a soapbox would subject me to the same scrutiny. Not a good plan, considering my collection of vices was as big as my backside.
Jerry took the last pull on the cigarette he’d been holding at his side, then mashed it out in his hand. “I avoid your mother at all costs.”
I
Jeremy stood. Stepping behind his chair, he held the back in both hands. “What about the prison? Maybe he said something to a cellmate.”
“I’ll take care of that. I am at the top of Ol’ Irv’s hit list. Maybe somebody might like to tell me how much he hated me and what he planned to do about it.”
Saturday night, the energy level at the Babylon at full-throttle, I decided to swing by Security to see if I could catch Jerry. The man worked almost as much as I did, so the odds were good. I fielded a couple of texts from Jean-Charles. Having someone check on me was a new thing—I think I liked it. No, I did like it; it just took some getting used to. We’d meet back at his restaurant when I’d finished with Jerry, if I found him.
Jerry kept the main room in Security dark, so after stepping inside, I needed a moment for my eyes to adjust. Monitors tic-tac-toed the far wall, each showing different views of the gaming tables: the players, the dealers, and a bird’s-eye view where experts could watch the hands dealt and the player’s movements, looking for a card drawn from the bottom or one pulled from a sleeve and all the more subtle tricks I didn’t want to know about or think of. Other clusters of monitors huddled in groupings around the large room, each showing different parts of the hotel and each monitored by one staff member. Safety, not only for the house’s money but also for those who donated to the cause, was a top priority.
My luck held. Jerry, his back to me, his hands clasped behind him, his feet spread, watched the ever-changing landscapes in front of him. He tossed me a sideways glance as I stepped in beside him. “Man, bad stuff tonight.” The stale smell of cigarettes clung to him, which always intrigued me, given the Big Boss had turned every square inch of the hotel into a non-smoking environment. Scratch that—the great State of Nevada, with local assistance, had pulled off that bit of illogic. Like hotdogs and mustard, gambling without smoking just wasn’t the full experience. The men groused, but the ladies in their Dolce and Chanel No. 5 on the way to a fancy evening loved the new, perfumed Vegas. I still straddled the fence.
Jerry and I had worked together so long we were family. When I’d had problems with the Big Boss, I’d turned to Jerry. When Teddie had taken a powder, Jerry had been the one to help me put my pieces back together. Tall and thin with dark skin, a bald pate that he shaved and waxed, a bright, infrequent smile and tired written all over him, Jerry still wore yesterday’s suit and today’s problems. He ran a hand over his head—a habit ingrained long before the hair had departed.
“They ever let you go home?” I nudged him with a shoulder.
“No reason to; wife’s out of town.”
“And you decided to wallow in a vice or two while she’s gone?”
“That bad?”
“Eau de Ashtray. Not sure you want to go hang with my mother. She’ll make you wish those cancer sticks had already killed you.” I didn’t understand, in light of all we knew, why people kept smoking. Of course, I often overindulged my affinity for Wild Turkey, so crawling up on a soapbox would subject me to the same scrutiny. Not a good plan, considering my collection of vices was as big as my backside.
Jerry took the last pull on the cigarette he’d been holding at his side, then mashed it out in his hand. “I avoid your mother at all costs.”
I
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