Step To The Graveyard Easy Part 6

"Bellboy. He thinks you're a stone fox."

"f.u.c.k the bellboy. Where's Boone? My G.o.d, you didn't do anything to him?"

"Not yet. He's probably counting the take right now."

"You just want your money back, is that it?"

"That's it."

"And how much more?"

"Nothing more, not for me," Cape said. "The other five marks get theirs back, too-that's the second part of the deal."

"What deal?"

"Me keeping my mouth shut, letting the two of you off the hook."

"They all lost except Boone, is that what you're saying?"

"Lost big, a couple of them."

"I don't believe he cheated any of you. My brother's honest, you can't prove otherwise."

"Can't I?"

"I know how he plays poker. Brand-new sealed decks, and the deal pa.s.ses every hand. How could he cheat six men in that kind of game?"

"Marked cards," Cape said.

"Using sealed decks? That's impossible."

He took the ace of diamonds from his wallet, showed it to her. "I palmed this from one of those sealed decks. It's marked, all right. I checked to make sure. What's known as shade work, right?"

Openmouthed stare.

"Let's see if I've got the gaff right," Cape said. "What you do is buy some decks of Bicycle cards, one of the most common brands. Blue-backs or red-backs, either one. You open the cellophane wrapper along the bottom of the box, taking care not to damage the manufacturer's stamp on top. Slide the box out, use a razor blade to pry the glued flaps apart along one side. Then dilute blue or red aniline dye with alcohol until you've got the lightest possible tint, wash it over the red or blue portion of each card back with a camel's-hair brush-tinting the white part just enough in different spots so you can see the shading if you know it's there. How am I doing so far?"

Tanya kept on staring at him, not saying anything. The poker face had begun to lose a little of its pa.s.sivity.

"Once you've got all the cards marked, you put them back in the box and reseal the flaps with rubber cement. Slip the box back into the cellophane sleeve, refold the sleeve ends along the original creases, and reseal them with a drop of glue. Do the job right, n.o.body can tell the package has been tampered with. Then when you get up a game, you make sure one of your vies opens the sealed deck. You also make sure the lighting isn't too good so n.o.body can spot the shading on the cards except you."

She said, "Jesus. How did you-?"

"I told you at the Drake, I've always been interested in gambling. I also read a lot."

She sat down on the bed next to the nightstand. "You mind if I have a cigarette?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached out to open the nightstand drawer.

Cape was across the room in five long, fast strides. He caught her wrist just as her hand came out of the drawer, twisted it, and made her yell and relax her grip. He wrenched the gun out of her fingers, backed away quickly to avoid the kick she launched at him.

"You son of a b.i.t.c.h!"

"You already called me that. Try a new one."

She rubbed her wrist, panting a little. "I wouldn't give you the satisfaction."

Cape looked at the gun. Flat, lightweight automatic, toy-size. The safety was off; he put it on and managed to eject the clip. Five cartridges, a full load. d.a.m.n deadly toy.

Before he dropped it into his jacket pocket, he said, "What were you going to do? Shoot me for a prowler?"

"No."

"Threaten me?"

"Something like that."

"It wouldn't have worked."

Tanya shrugged, watching him through lowered lids. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, knees together, the folds of her robe drawn across her thighs. She drew back slightly, parting her legs so the robe fell away. Underneath she was naked. Slowly she lifted one leg, crossed it over the other. Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct.

He gave her a mirthless grin. "That won't work either."

"What won't?"

"First you try bluffing, then the gun, now s.e.x. I'm not interested."

"I could make you interested."

"Before tonight you might have. Not anymore."

The hazel eyes dissected him. She shrugged again, pulled the robe back over her legs.

"Now what?" she said.

"Now we wait."

"For what?"

"For Boone to show up."

"What makes you think he's coming here?"

"Same thing that makes me think he's not your brother."

A key sc.r.a.ped in the lock at a quarter to four. Cape was slouched in an armchair to the right of the shallow entrance foyer, so he couldn't be seen from the doorway. Tanya was on the bed, propped up against the pillows, pretending he wasn't there at all.

Boone came in, saw her, and said, "Good, you're awake. Score was better than we hoped, close to sixteen thousand-"

"Seventeen hundred of it mine," Cape said.

Boone, coming through the archway, carrying a small black satchel like a doctor's bag, stopped as if he'd walked into a wall. His head swiveled jerkily; his eyes bugged a little. The smile he'd been wearing slipped, and he had difficulty pulling it back up.

He said, "Matt. Jesus, you gave me a jolt there." He glanced at Tanya, put his eyes on Cape again. "What're you doing here?"

"He spotted the gaff," Tanya said.

The smile slipped all the way off this time. Boone's round cheeks had been flushed; the color began to fade, leaving splotches of whiteness like cottage cheese curds. "What gaff?" he said. "Listen, I don't know what you think you-"

"The shade work," Cape said. "Quit trying to bluff. It didn't work for her, either."

A little silence. Then Boone squared his shoulders, drew himself up-little man trying to make himself big again. "Well. All right, then. I don't see any cops, so what is it you want?"

"He wants the money," Tanya said.

"Sure, no problem. How much was it you lost, Matt?"

"All the money. So he can give it back to the other marks."

"No," Boone said.

Cape said, "Yes. Put the satchel on the table over here."

Boone clutched it more tightly. He said without turning his head, "Tanya."

"I don't have the gun. He's got it."

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it!"

"Put the satchel on the table," Cape said.

"You don't understand. This money-we need it. We'll cut you in for a percentage, say five thousand, but we've got to have the rest."

"Why?"

"Seed money, that's why."

"For what? Another con?"

"We have to be in Tahoe day after tomorrow-"

"Shut up, Boone," Tanya said.

"Six thousand," Boone said to Cape. "That's as high as we can go."

"Put the satchel on the table."

"No. Matt, will you just listen-"

Cape took the little automatic out of his pocket. "One more time. Put the satchel on the table."

Boone obeyed finally. He took a couple of sideways steps, jammed the bag down hard enough so that the two top halves parted like a gaping mouth. He didn't look soft and pudgy any longer; he looked small and hard and swollen with corruption. Boone the boil, ready to pop.

"You won't get away with this," he said between his teeth. "This is my G.o.dd.a.m.n money!"

"Our G.o.dd.a.m.n money," Tanya said bitterly.

"Take it away, and you'll regret it, Matt. Guaranteed."

Cape got to his feet. "Go over and sit on the bed with your wife or girlfriend or whatever she is."

"You think I'd marry him?" she said. "A little toad like him?"

"Now you shut the f.u.c.k up, Tanya. This is all your fault. Why'd you let him in here? Why'd you let him get hold of your gun?"

She just looked at him, a faint sneer on her mouth.

"I ought to break your neck."

"Try it and see what it gets you."

"On the bed," Cape said again, gesturing with the automatic. "Go on."

Glaring, Boone went over and sat down apart from the woman. Cape picked up the black bag. "I wouldn't try setting up another game tomorrow night, if I were you. In fact, I'd be a long way from San Francis...o...b.. then. Word's going to get around when I return this money."

"Go to h.e.l.l."

"If I do, maybe the three of us can play poker with the devil."

Boone and Tanya both had something to say to that, but their angry voices commingled, and he didn't pay much attention anyway. He was already on his way out of there with the satchel.

8.

Cape made sure the blinds were tightly closed, then upended the satchel over the motel-room bed. Packets of rumpled green, a dozen or so, loosely held together with rubber bands. Something else, too: a nine-by-twelve manila envelope, mostly flat, closed but not sealed.

The money first. Six packets of hundreds, three of fifties, two thicker ones of twenties, another of tens, fives, and singles. He made a riffling count without removing any of the rubber bands. Eighteen thousand and change. The night's score was around sixteen thousand, by Cape's estimate and Boone's announcement on entering Tanya's room. The remaining two thousand belonged to the grifters-seed money to grow a bigger crop of seed money.

He fed the cash back into the satchel, opened the manila envelope. Photographs. Four eight-by-ten color glossies. Two of them were candid shots of the same woman, taken at relatively close range; the angles and her expression said she hadn't known she was being photographed. Sleek, big-eyed, tawny hair worn long enough to caress the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, some kind of beauty mark at one corner of a broad-lipped mouth. In one snap she was dressed in an expensive cream-colored outfit and getting into a silver BMW. In the other she wore a pale yellow sundress and was standing in front of the purple-and-gold entrance to what appeared to be a hotel-casino complex. Part of a name was visible in the background, the words LAK and GRAND.

The other two photos were studio portraits of men. One: sixtyish, distinguished looking, flowing silver mustache and wavy silver hair. The other: around forty, olive-toned skin, curly black hair, handsome in a slick, hard way, eyes like fragments of black ice.

Cape looked at the backs of the glossies. Nothing written on any of them. He checked the envelope again, examined the satchel inside and out. Nothing. He put the photos inside with the money, set the satchel on the nightstand.

The digital alarm clock read 5:10 when he finally crawled into bed.