"Hey," she protested, "it happens."
"What are you saying?" Higgins said, the edge creeping into his voice. "You thought this was luck?"
"A blind pig gets an acorn every once in a while."
"Not like this," Higgins said forcefully. "Twenty grand the first day, thirty the second. You must have suspected something."
"You think I knew it was him? Look at the photos of Fontaine," she said, a fresh cigarette glowing angrily in her mouth. "Fontaine's chin's chiseled and his hair's thicker than Sonny's. Even his voice was different. I didn't realize it was Sonny until Mr. Underman told me."
Higgins frowned. "Why didn't you tell the police about Sonny before? It's against the law for a dealer to have a relationship with a hustler. You know that, don't you?"
"The law does not require my client to make her relationship with Sonny Fontana known," Underman said, speaking for the first time.
"What are you talking about?" Higgins said.
"Nola is still technically married to Sonny and has a certificate to prove it," the defense attorney said. "By law, spouses are immune from having to implicate their partners."
"You think that applies here?"
"Well, because they were married before Nola went to work at the Acropolis, yes, I do."
"Look," Nola declared, her nostrils flaring angrily. "I loved the guy, okay? But I didn't know it was him. The only reason I got arrested is because Sammy let Sonny fly out the door."
Sammy Mann erupted. "That's a lie!"
"Keep your mouth shut," Higgins told the head of security. To Nola, he said, "You're saying the casino is using you as a scapegoat."
She blew a monster cloud of smoke across the room. "You're goddamned right I am."
"You spent a week with him," Sammy said accusingly, ignoring Higgins's command.
"So?" Nola shot back.
"You were in from the start," Sammy said. "You broke the law, and you know it."
Nola cast an evil eye at Sammy, then the others. When no one corrected him, she jammed her cigarette into the tin ashtray, fighting to control herself. "Which law is that? The one for being naive? Or maybe there's one for letting your heart be broken by every sweet-talking guy you meet. Yeah, I broke both of those laws. Go ahead, put me in jail and throw away the key. I deserve to be punished."
"So who you picking?" Wily asked, slurping a Mountain Dew while staring at Nola through the two-way mirror.
"Holyfield," Nick replied, eating a bag of stale pretzels.
"They're giving two-to-one odds over at the Golden Nugget."
"They're morons," Nick snapped.
"You read the paper?" Wily asked. "Guy who writes sports for the Sun, Joe Taylor, says the Animal is in the best shape of his life. Running five miles a day, knocking out his sparring partners. Joe Taylor says-"
Nick turned around in his seat and cuffed Wily in the head.
"Holyfield! You hear what I'm saying? Holyfield!"
Wily refused to give in. "But the Animal looks great."
Nick tossed a handful of pretzels into the air, just to get Wily's attention. "No buts, stupid. The winner is gonna be Evander Holyfield. The casinos in this town have lost more money giving odds against Holyfield than any athlete who's ever lived. Three-to-one underdog against Buster Douglas; five-to-one underdog against Riddick Bowe in the rematch; twenty-to-one against Iron Mike in the first fight, even money the second. Now you're telling me some punk who just got out of prison is gonna win. Holyfield. Let me hear you say it."
"Jesus," Wily said. "Can't I have an opinion?"
"A what?"
"An opinion."
"No. Now say it."
"All right already. Holyfield."
Nick patted him on the shoulder. "You're learning, kid."
Through the glass, they saw Longo escorting Nola and her attorney out of the interrogation room. Something important had happened and they'd missed it. Valentine appeared in the doorway with a disgusted look on his face.
"What's going on?" Nick asked.
"Everyone's going out to Nola's house," Valentine said. "Nola says she has e-mail letters from Fontaine that will prove she's innocent."
Nick tossed the pretzels into the wastebasket. The Holyfield fight was two days away. Tomorrow the whales would start rolling into town, deep-pocket guys who knew how to throw money around. All he needed was one to walk into his joint and his financial troubles would be gone. He was sick of Nola, ready to move on to grander things.
"So?" Nick grumbled.
"If the letters are real, Longo will have to let her walk."
"What about my fifty grand?"
"Kiss it good-bye," Valentine said.
Nick jumped up, knocking his chair over.
"Over my dead body," he said, running out the door.
15
Chewing on an unlit cigar, Nick drove his Cadillac Seville through the prefab development Nola Briggs called home. A hundred yards ahead, Longo's unmarked sedan turned down a dead-end street. Nick flipped his turn indicator on, then fiddled with the AC. They'd been on the road twenty minutes and the vents were still blowing hot air.
Valentine rode shotgun, Wily and Sammy Mann in the back. No one had spoken since leaving Metro LVPD headquarters, and it made the ride seem twice as long. Finally, Wily broke the silence. Sponging his face with a hankie, he said, "Where the hell are we, anyway?"
No one knew. Sammy griped about not being able to find his way around the burbs anymore, the developments choking the desert like weeds. Nick slowed down for a mob of kids on roller blades.
"You still think Nola's guilty?" Wily asked Valentine.
Valentine fanned himself with a magazine. "I sure do."
"I don't know," Wily said, drawing glares from everyone in the car. He quickly added, "I mean, she's looking at five to ten years. Why doesn't she turn state's evidence and rat on Fontaine? They'd probably let her go."
Wily was talking like a moron. Valentine tried to explain it to him. "Because she's in too deep. She's switched sides."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've seen it a hundred times before."
"You have?"
Valentine turned around to look at him. "When the circumstances are right, most people will cheat. It's human nature."
Wily said, "Define most people."
"Most people means everybody who gambles," Valentine replied. "Look, my own grandmother used to cheat. I'm talking about family games, mind you. She'd hold her cards in one hand and her rosary in the other. I used to think she was praying, but one day I noticed her lips moving, and I went out of the room, then snuck back in behind her. Guess what? She was using the rosary like an abacus. Granny was card-counting."
"Your own grandmother," Wily said, astonished.
"It was a real eye-opener," Valentine admitted.
Longo pulled his sedan up Nola's driveway. Nola's house was identical to every other one on the block, the sameness giving Valentine pause. How could someone live here ten years, he wondered, and not get angry?
Nick parked across the street. The four men got out and crossed together. Handcuffed, Nola huddled on her front lawn with Longo, Higgins, and her defense attorney.
"Let's make this fast," Longo said as they converged. He had pinned a silver badge to his lapel to make it clear to everyone that he was in charge.
"I want to see those letters," Nick said.
"They're real," Nola told him. "You'll see."
A pubescent horde had gathered curbside. Nola raised her manacled wrists and called to them. "Hey, Johnny; hey, Taylor; hey, Josh. You boys staying out of trouble?"
"Yes, ma'am," they chorused, heads nodding in unison.
To her attorney, Nola said, "There isn't a boy on this block that I haven't changed diapers for."
"It must be hard to have them see you like this," Underman said.