“Leigh Gardner may or may not sell her land to you,” Winter said. “She is upset that she received your offer from her ex-husband along with what may have been an implied threat that something bad could happen if she didn’t take the offer. Something along the lines of what happened to Sherry Adams.”
“I resent your insinuations,” Mulvane said. “When we discovered that Jacob Gardner didn’t own or in any way control the land in question, which he told us he did, it put us in an awkward position. He assured us he could make the deal happen and would represent Ms. Gardner. That is why we have been going through Gardner. If we can’t reach an agreement on the land from Mrs. Gardner, we can have it condemned by the state and buy it anyway-probably for much less than our offer. But the idea that we would resort to threats or violence is preposterous.”
“Jacob led his ex-wife to believe that she or one of her children could suffer a similar fate as Sherry Adams,” Brad said. “This is a very serious accusation. And one of your employees did kill Sherry.”
“I never said any such thing to Jacob Gardner!” Mulvane stammered. “The man is a liar and a fool.”
“By the way,” Brad said, “I understand you believe Beals stole the money we found at his place from your casino? Any idea how much?”
“Ballpark,” Albert White said, “we’re compiling the exact figure, but it looks to be two hundred thousand dollars and change. How much did you find?”
“Albert, you know that’s confidential,” Brad said. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing your figures.”
Winter said, “We have evidence that Jack Beals was robbing, maybe even killing, winning customers, and we think he was picking them carefully so he wouldn’t get caught. We believe he may have had a partner here in the casino with access to information on the victims. We were sure the money we found hidden in Beals’s house was from that enterprise. But you say it was stolen from this casino, so we’ll be interested in your evidence, since it contradicts ours.”
Mulvane’s face had lost any semblance of its former cheeriness. White seemed at a loss for words as well.
“Maybe we should be talking to the director of RRI,” Winter said. “We have his name and address. Thank you for your time, Mr. Mulvane. We know the way out.”
The men stood to leave, and Pierce took a deep breath and followed them to the elevator. “I’ll ride down with you,” he said.
Winter and Brad stared at Mulvane in total silence after the door closed. Albert White had to take the stairs down since the elevator was too small for the four of them.
“Has it ever been brought to your attention that people who win here sometimes don’t always get to keep their winnings?” Winter asked.
“Of course not,” Pierce said, punching the button for the first floor three times even though the cab was moving.
“Well, Beals told David Scotoni that the casino sent him to retrieve the money he’d won at your tables. Scotoni is the guy who was being drowned by Beals just before Beals was killed. You know, Mr. Mulvane, you strike me as a man who’s living in a world filled with unfortunate coincidences. I know this place is a fantasy world without clocks or invasions of reality from outside, but beyond these walls, actual consequences await everyone.”
When the elevator stopped and the door opened, Brad stepped out and walked off a few paces. Massey blocked Mulvane’s exit, smiling at him.
Mulvane straightened and looked Winter in the eyes. “Are you threatening me?”
“Yes,” Massey said in a low voice. “That is exactly what I am doing. You may have some other people fooled, but I have you pegged. And I know that some others in here have dirty hands too.”
“How dare you,” Mulvane said.
“I’ll make this real simple,” Winter said. “Anybody threatens or tries to harm Leigh Gardner or her kids, I’ll assume it was you. And I generally act on my assumptions.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Mulvane said, baring his teeth. “I can have your badge.”
“You think I need a badge? You should check me out,” Winter said. “James Winter Massey. People who know anything about me will assure you that I am a man of my word. And I am giving you my word. So if the threat fits, wear it.”
66
Winter stepped out and Pierce Mulvane brushed past him to hurry into the casino, followed by a red-faced Albert White, who had just burst through the stairway door.
“What did you say to Mulvane just now?” Brad asked.
“Not much. I think I got through to him. If he and White haven’t checked me out, they will now. Having a reputation like mine is sometimes a good thing. Hopefully their sources are good, and they’ll get rattled, which is something those fellows aren’t accustomed to. Mulvane will stew some and then he’ll make a move.”
“Well, now I’m a little confused. See, I thought we had a plan that involved wiring Leigh and catching Mulvane forcing the sale. The thing we discussed with Alexa-Federal charges of extortion, uttering threats, maybe murdering Sherry Adams?”
“I changed that plan,” Winter said.
“So I noticed. Why?”
“Mulvane’s smart and he’s never going to say anything incriminating to Leigh. And wiring her would put Leigh in more danger. I’m convinced that he’s done some stupid and criminal crap, and I want him to know that the only way out is through me. It could get intense.”
“This hasn’t been intense?” Brad asked, incredulous.
“Yes, it’s been that, but all of it could pale in comparison to the next day or two. Styer hasn’t left the area, and maybe this will spur Mulvane or White to sic him on me.”
“You seem sure of that,” Brad said.
“Yeah,” Winter said. “Trust me on this stuff. I know how to fuel a fire.”
67
Aside from playing board games, Alexa had never rolled a pair of dice. Right now, she felt as clueless about the goings-on at the craps table as a dog would be about open-heart surgery.
“Here’s the deal,” Jason told her. “You have to place a bet to get a turn at throwing the dice, so I’ll make the bets. You just concentrate on rolling the dice when it’s your turn.”
“Okay,” she said.
Jason Parr put several stacks of chips in the racks before him on the table’s ledge, and with each roll, he reached over and placed them on various marked areas. When it was his turn to throw the dice, he was up thousands of dollars, which he attributed to Alexa’s presence. After he rolled eight times in a row, he kept tossing chips down and when he rolled his point, he won big. He rolled three more times, making his point each time. When he rolled boxcars-double sixes-on the fourth point roll, he placed bets for Alexa as the croupier pushed the dice to her using his L-shaped stick.
“Just throw them hard enough so they hit the back of the table,” he told her. “And don’t change hands with them once you pick them up off the table. You might arrange them on the felt and throw them thinking you can control them, but you can’t.”
“So it’s a crapshoot?” she asked, smiling.
“Sure as shootin’ is,” he said, laughing.
Alexa rolled a nine. Unbelievably, she rolled ten times after that, hitting a nine on the last one. Each roll brought about a flurry of activity from the players, and she watched without any understanding of why the chips were going down and being taken up again. Nobody seemed all that concerned when she crapped out.