“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“Explain,” Valentine said.

Bill tugged at his necktie like it was choking him. “ The owner of Diamond Dave’s had money problems, and decided to rig the games in his casino to pay off his creditors. We caught him, and shut the place down. We hauled Diamond Dave into jail, and guess who the first person was he called with his one phone call.”

“Governor Smoltz,” Valentine said.

Bill blinked again. “Who told you that?”

“I figured it out. Smoltz takes care of his friends. Diamond Dave probably helped put him in office.”

“That’s right. Diamond Dave was one of his biggest fund raisers. Two days after we arrested Diamond Dave, his casino manager turns up dead. He was our only witness. I got a call from Smoltz a few hours later, telling me to let Diamond Dave walk. Smoltz claimed the scandal would hurt the town’s business, and he wanted me to put a lid on it. I was under orders not to talk.”

Valentine had been a cop once, and obeyed plenty of orders he hadn’t agreed with. Bill had done what he’d had to do. But it still didn’t make it right. He watched his friend jerk his necktie off, and stuff it into his pocket.

“Let me ask you a question,” Valentine said. “When Bronco first told you there was a crooked gaming agent stealing jackpots, did you think this was blow-back to what had happened at Diamond Dave’s?”

Valentine already knew the answer to the question, but had to ask it anyway. Bill hadknown, which was why Smoltz had gotten involved. How Bill answered was going to determine whether they remained friends.

“Yes,” Bill said.

“Did Smoltz?”

“Yes, he figured it out as well.”

“Why didn’t you just focus your investigation on just the agents who’d been involved in shutting down Diamond Dave’s? Why throw such a wide net?”

“Because every agent working for the GCB knew about the scandal, and had been tainted by it,” Bill replied. “I had to look at everyone.”

Bill was being honest with him now. The dark secrets that Mira had told Mabel were hidden beneath the surface were finally coming out.

“What are you going to do now?” Valentine asked. “Or should I say, what’s Smoltz going to do? Let Fred Friendly and his gang skate?”

“Smoltz wants us to nail Bronco first, and muzzle him. Then we’ll haul in Friendly and the others.”

“Aren’t you afraid Friendly and his gang will go into the wind? They have to know that you’ve shut the Universal slot machines down.”

“I’m sure they do. But where are they going to go?” Bill said. “They all live here. Trust me, they’re going to be a lot easier to run down than Bronco.”

“I hope you’re right.”

One of the cops on the stakeout team appeared in the doorway.

“What’s up?” Bill said to him.

“The Asian just got a phone call,” the cop replied. “It’s Bronco. They’re setting up the meeting.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right in.”

The cop left, and Bill turned his attention back to Valentine.

“We done?”

“Done,” Valentine replied.

“I’m sorry I didn’t level with you Tony. I really am.”

“I’ll get over it.”

Bill nodded and went into the next room. Valentine started to follow, and saw Gerry motion for him to wait. His son went to the door and glanced into the next room, then came back and pulled his father into the corner.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Gerry said in a whisper.

“I’m never thinking what you’re thinking,” Valentine replied.

“If Bronco gets muzzled, only two people outside of Bill and Smoltz will know what’s going on. You and me.”

“So?”

“I sure hope we don’t end up with bullets in our heads.”

“Come on, Gerry, be serious.”

“I am, Pop. Think about it.”

Valentine did. And then it hit him. His son was right. In Vegas, it was all about the money, and the things they knew could permanently damage the way business was done. People had been killed in this town for less than that. A lot less.

“Guess we’d better watch each other’s backs,” Valentine said.

“Deal,” his son replied.

Chapter 52

Bronco was setting up the meeting with Xing, when there was a knock on his hotel room door. He said, “Hang on.” into his cell phone, and placed it down.

Going to the door, he stared through the peephole. A male uniformed hotel employee pushing a metal cart stood in the hallway.

Bronco opened the door. “What’s up?”

“Would you like your mini-bar restocked?”

“No thanks.”

He shut the door in the employee’s face. He’d had three visitors in the past hour. A maid wanting to turn down his bed, a maintenance man wanting to check the AC, and now this guy. It didn’t feel right, and he guessed the casino was getting antsy about him being in his room, and not downstairs gambling.

Or maybe it was something else. The police had probably figured out he was in town, and asked the hotels to check on any male guests who’d registered in the past twenty-four hours. Which meant that staying here was no longer safe.

He got back on the phone with Xing.

“You still there?”

“I’m here,” the Asian replied.

“Let’s do this now.”

“Come to my room in an hour.”

“Why not now?”

“Why? Are you in a rush?”

Xing was testing him. The Asian seemed to enjoy getting under his skin.

“No, I just want to get this over with.”

“One hour. The Cordova motel, room #24.”

“Got it.”

He folded his phone. If Xing knew that the slot machine scam was worthless, he hadn’t mentioned it. Hopefully, he hadn’t strayed far from his motel, and gone into any of the casinos on Fremont Street. If he did go into a casino, he was going to know, and then Bronco would have to kill him to get the Pai Gow secret.

Throwing his clothes into a suitcase, Bronco went downstairs and got his car from the valet. He still had not shaken the events of that morning, and his shirt was soaked with sweat. He pulled out of the hotel, and decided to cruise the strip.

He drove to the north end, turned around, and drove back. Back when he’d been married to Marie, he’d owned a convertible, and they’d often driven the strip with the top down, and looked at the tourists. He imagined Marie was sitting next to him, and heard her singing along with the radio. She’d always loved the slow stuff.

He came to Tropicana Avenue, and put his blinker on. The light changed, and his hands instinctively spun the wheel. He drove down Tropicana until he was in the desert. Up ahead, a road sign said Henderson, 10 miles. He was heading back to his house, and hadn’t even realized it.

He parked one street over from his house, and walked across a neighbor’s property to his own backyard. Yellow police tape was stretched across the back slider, telling him that his house had been turned into a crime scene investigation.

He stuck his head around a corner. No police cars were in the driveway or the street. He went to the front door, removed a key from a flower pot, and let himself in.

He wasn’t ready for the smell. Old cigarette smoke and spilled beer mixed with the house’s dead air. He considered opening up the windows and airing the place out, then realized he wasn’t coming back, so what was the point?

His next stop was the master bedroom. He instantly noted what things inside the room the cops had touched or moved. Nosy bastards.

Opening the closet door, he unzippered one of Marie’s clothing bags, and stuck his face into her dresses. Whenever he missed her so much that he felt like sticking a gun in his mouth, he’d gone and smelled her clothes. It was hard to explain how much he’d loved Marie; even he didn’t understand it. Or why he couldn’t get over her.

They’d met at a craps table at the MGM Grand. She’d been gambling with some friends. She was an innocent looking kid, real pretty, and Bronco had sensed she was someone he could work with.