“What about your nausea?”
“Too many damn carrots,” he said in between sliders. “Carotene poisoning. That’s why rabbits puke all the time.”
“I’ve never seen a rabbit puke.”
“You’ve never looked.”
While he was shoving the third hamburger into his mouth, keeping all the while a careful eye on the door, the phone rang. He nodded with his head to the phone and I answered it. “What’s Atlanta?” asked the whispery voice on the phone.
I relayed the question to Jimmy and he stopped swallowing long enough to say, “Six and eight over Houston.”
“Six and eight over Houston,” I said into the phone.
“This is Rocketman,” said the voice. “Thirty units on Houston.”
I told Jim and he nodded. “Tell him it’s down,” said Jimmy Vigs and I did.
“That’s the problem with this business,” said Jim. “It never stops. I’m scheduled for surgery tomorrow and they’re still calling. I need a vacation. Want a fry?”
“No thank you.”
“Good,” he said as he stuck a fistful in his mouth. “They’re not crisp enough anyway, you need to get them right out of the fryer.” He stuck in another fistful.
“You know, Victor,” he said when he was finished with everything and the bag and empty boxes were safely back in my briefcase and the only remnant of his surreptitious meal was the stink of grease that hung over the room like a sallow cloud of ill health, “that was the first decent bite I’ve had since I was admitted. Starting tomorrow I’m going to change everything, I swear. I’m going to Slim-Fast my way to skinny, I swear. But I just needed a final taste before the drought. You’re a pal.”
“I felt like I was giving you poison.”
“Aw hell, they’re scraping everything out tomorrow anyway, what’s the harm? But you’re a real pal. I owe you.”
“So then do me a favor,” I said, “and tell me about one of your clients, a fellow named Edward Shaw.”
Jimmy sat still for a while, as if he hadn’t heard me, but then his wide cheeks widened and underneath his tiny mustache a smile grew. “What do you want to know from Eddie Shaw for?”
“I just want to know.”
“Lawyer-client?”
“Lawyer-client.”
“Well, buddy, you know what Eddie Shaw is? The worst gambler in God’s good earth.”
“Not very astute, I guess.”
“That’s not what I tell him. He’s the smartest, most informed, most knowledgeable I ever booked is what I tell him. And he’s such an uppity little son-of-a-bitch he believes every word of it. But between you and me, and only between you and me, he is the absolute biggest mark I’ve ever seen. It’s uncanny. He’s such a degenerate he couldn’t lose more money if he was trying. He’s the only guy in the world who when he bets a game, the line changes in his favor, he’s that bad. He bets a horse, it’s sure to come in so late the jockey’s wearing pajamas. I could retire on that guy, go to Brazil, lie on the beach all day and eat fried plantains, suck down coladas, never worry about a thing, just bake in the sun and book his losers.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Well, you know how it is sometimes. Collection can be a problem.”
“Isn’t he good for it?” I asked, wondering how much Jimmy knew about the family.
Jimmy let out an explosion of breath. “You know Reddman Pickles? Well this loser’s a Reddman, and there aren’t too many, either. The guy’s worth as much as some small countries, let me tell you, but it’s all tied up in some sort of a trust. He lays the bets based on his net worth but he can only pay up based on his income, which is less than you would figure with a guy like that. When his old man dies, then he can buy the moon, but until then he only gets a share of a percentage of what the trust throws out in income.”
“Ever have any real trouble getting him to pay?”
Jimmy shifted in bed a bit and the line on his monitor flat-lined for a moment, his pulse number dropping to zilch, before the line snapped back into rhythm and the pulse registered ninety-three, ninety-six, ninety, eighty-eight. “What’s up, Victor? Why so much interest in Shaw?”
“I’m just asking.”
“Lawyers don’t just ask.”
“I heard that he got pretty far behind and you started getting tough, a little too tough.”
He turned his head away from me. “Yeah, well it’s a tough business.”
“How much did he owe?”
“Aw, you know me, Victor, I wouldn’t hurt a pussy cat.”
“How much?”
“Lawyer-client, right?”
“Sure.”
“Over half a mil. Normally I cut it off before it gets that high, just cut them off and work out a payment plan, but he has so much money coming and he loses so regularly, I just couldn’t bear some other book taking my money. I let it get too high, and I was willing to be patient, with the interest I was charging it was going to be my retirement when his old man died. But January a year back I took more action than I should have on the game and laid off too much to the wrong guys. The refs don’t call the interference on Sanders, and it was clear, so clear, but they don’t call it and I’m way short. Next thing I know those bastards started squeezing. I was in hock to them, Shaw was in hock to me, so I had to apply some pressure. It was just business is all, Victor, nothing…”
The phone interrupted him. I picked it up. “What’s the spread on the Knicks tomorrow night?” said a voice.
“Hello, Al?” I said into the phone, rapping the handset as if the connection was bad. “Al? Are you there, Al? I think the tap shorted out the wires. Al? Al? Can you get on that, Al?”
“Aw cut it out,” said Jimmy, reaching for the phone.
“I don’t understand it,” I said. “He hung up.”
“You’re killing me here.”
“You said you needed a vacation. Tell me what you did about Shaw.”
“I went to Calvi.”
“Calvi, huh?” I said. “I heard he’s gone to Florida. Any idea why the sudden visit South?”
“I don’t know, maybe the boss got sick of the smell of those damned cigars.”
“I wouldn’t blame him for that.”
“I also heard some rumors about him getting impatient with his share, stuff I never believed. But I got sources say that Earl Dante was behind the rumors and his ouster.”
“Dante’s rising fast.”
“Dante is a scary man, Victor, and that is all I want to say about that.”
Just then the door opened and a thin young man in a black leather coat and a black fedora stepped into the room. On some guys the leather coat and the hat would have made them look hard, like Rocky, but not this guy, with his long face and beak nose and wide child-taunted ears. He wore thick round glasses and between his pursed lips I could see a set of crumbling teeth. When he saw me he stopped and stared.
“Hey, Victor,” said Jimmy, “you know Anton Schmidt here?”
I shook my head.
“Next to you, Victor, he’s the smartest guy I know.”
“That’s not saying much for you,” I said.
“No, really. Anton’s the real deal, got a mind for numbers like a computer. And don’t ever bet him in chess, he’s a prodigy or something. He’s got a ranking. I didn’t know they gave rankings, but he’s got one.”
“How high?” I asked.
“Nineteen fifty as of my last tournament,” he said through his twisted set of teeth.
“Impressive,” I said, and from the way he said it I guess it was, though I had no idea what it meant.
“He’s almost a master,” said Jimmy. “Imagine that, and he works for me.”
“Anything going?” asked Anton.
“Rocketman bet thirty units on Houston.”
“He would,” said Anton.
“Other than that, Victor put on the kibosh so I think it’s going to be quiet. You got that match to study for, go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow after the procedure.”