Whenever Rufus Steele tried to persuade suckers to bet against him, Valentine was reminded of that magical piano solo. Like Chico Marx, Rufus always went well past the end, his language as outlandish as music produced in thin air.

“Come on, boys, what do you say? Money talks, nobody walks. It’s time to put up or shut up.” Rufus smiled at the group of suckers who’d come to Celebrity’s golf course to watch him play the Greek. “This is one you can’t lose, what my daddy called a mortal cinch. No tricks, no deception, just a friendly game of golf. My opponent was a runner-up in the National Amateur Championship and is a scratch golfer. Isn’t that so, Greek?”

The Greek and Marcy Baldwin sat stoically in a golf cart. Lying in Marcy’s lap was Medusa, who’d emitted a horrified shriek upon seeing Rufus.

“That’s right,” the Greek replied.

“What’s yourhandicap?” a sucker asked Rufus suspiciously. He was a squirrel-like guy with a sprout of hair on his chin that resembled a dirty paintbrush.

“Besides my shining personality?” Rufus said. “It’s a ten. If you don’t believe me, call the pro at Caesars’ golf shop. I’ve been playing his course for twenty years.”

“Did you check that out?” the sucker asked the Greek.

“Yes,” the Greek said. “His handicap is ten.”

“What is Rufus trying to pull?” Gloria whispered in Valentine’s ear. “He’s going to lose if he’s not careful.”

Valentine felt the same way. He and Gloria stood by the practice tees, a small but dedicated rooting section. Golf was a game where you beat yourself, not your opponent. He couldn’t see Rufus overcoming ten strokes no matter how well he played.

“Explain the rules again,” the sucker said.

“Be happy to,” Rufus said. “The Greek and I are going to play eighteen holes of golf. Because many of you expect me to pull a fast one, I’ve given the Greek an edge. He gets to hit three drives on every hole, then pick the best ball to play with.”

“How many drives do you get?” the sucker asked.

“Just one,” Rufus replied.

“What kind of odds are you offering?”

“Even money. The Greek is betting me half a million dollars. I’d be happy to take your action or anyone else’s, if you’re so inclined.”

The suckers went into a huddle. Gloria nudged Valentine with her elbow, and he reluctantly went over to where Rufus stood. “How you feeling?” Valentine asked.

“Never better,” the old cowboy replied.

“You don’t think this is a mistake?”

“Only suckers make mistakes,” Rufus said.

The suckers ponied up another thirty grand, which Valentine agreed to hold for safekeeping. Rufus went to where their caddies stood by the bags. The Greek joined him and said, “I’ve got one stipulation before we start.”

“What’s that?” Rufus asked.

“I want our caddies to take off their shoes,” the Greek said.

“You got a shoe fetish or something?”

“No, I just want to look at them.”

Rufus turned to the caddies. “Boys, what do you say?”

The caddies removed their spiked golf shoes and handed them over. The Greek examined each shoe, pulling forcefully at the sole.

“What are you doing?” Marcy Baldwin called from the golf cart.

“I’m making sure the soles don’t come off,” the Greek said. “I had a guy trick me one time. His caddy’s shoes had removable soles. Every time his ball went into the rough, his caddy picked up the ball with his toes, and dropped it in a favorable lie.”

“Ha!” Marcy Baldwin said.

“‘Ha’ is right,” the Greek said. Finished, he handed the shoes back to the caddies. “Don’t let me catch you pulling any fast stuff, hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” they both said.

The Greek went to his bag and pulled out his driver, then removed three brand-new golf balls from the bag’s side pocket. He walked over to the first hole, teed up a ball, and drove it 250 yards down the fairway, then teed up two more balls, and drove them equally as far. His swing was clean and pure, and Valentine and Gloria craned their necks, watching the balls fly gracefully through the air.

“I’ll use the third ball,” the Greek said.

“Third ball, it is,” Rufus said.

Rufus teed up, and drove his ball 150 yards down the fairway. His swing was awkward and ugly, its only saving grace that it made the ball go straight.

The Greek burst out laughing. His ball was a hundred yards closer to the pin than Rufus’s. He hopped into the golf cart and Marcy gave him a kiss.

“Good going, honey,” she said.

By the ninth hole, the Greek was ahead by eleven shots, and insulting Rufus at every opportunity. The Greek had finally found a game he could win, and was doing victory dances on the greens each time he sank a putt.

“This is insulting,” Gloria said, sitting in a golf cart with Valentine. “Go sock him in the nose, will you?”

Valentine was at the wheel. She knew him too well, and he said, “I would, but there are witnesses.”

“I’ll lift my blouse and distract them,” she said.

He tried not to laugh too loudly and glanced at Rufus standing on the edge of the green, trading one-liners with his caddy. He’d helped Rufus win a lot of money in the past few days, and Rufus had given him his share that morning. Valentine had already decided that he wasn’t going to keep it, and now had an idea where it should go.

“Do you know anything about wiring money?” he asked Gloria.

“I’ve done it a few times. Why?”

“There’s a woman in Atlantic City I want to send the money Rufus gave me.”

“Is this woman someone I should know about?”

He nearly said yes. The case had started with Jack Donovan trying to sell his poker scam so he could give his poor mother in Atlantic City money to live on. That had been Jack’s dying wish, and now he was going to fulfill it.

“Just trying to help someone out,” he said.

Gloria’s arm encircled his waist. She pulled close to him and kissed him on the lips. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she said.

By the time they reached the thirteenth hole, the Greek appeared to be a sure winner. His victory dances had gotten longer, with him snapping his fingers and puffing out his chest like Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof.Then a strange thing happened.

The Greek teed up his first ball and hit his drive. Instead of flying straight and true, the ball shanked left and flew over a stand of trees, landing on the fairway of the third hole, which ran parallel to the thirteenth. Cursing, he teed up his second ball, and again shanked it left. In disgust he teed up his third ball and smacked it. The result was exactly the same.

“Those balls are out of bounds. That’s a two-stroke penalty,” Rufus said.

“I know the rules,” the Greek said testily.

The Greek pulled three more balls from his bag, teed up the first, and drove it. The ball again shanked left. Moments later, they heard a golfer on the third hole let out an angry yell.

“Sounds like you hit someone,” Rufus said.

The Greek shanked his second ball left, and his third. The yelling from the third hole became a bellowing rage.

“That’s another two-stroke penalty,” Rufus said.

“Shut up!” the Greek roared.

“He’s playing like he couldn’t hit the side of a barn,” Gloria said under her breath.

Valentine leaned back in his seat, seeing the trick that Rufus had played on the Greek. Driving a golf ball required a lot of arm strength, and the Greek had exhausted his muscles by driving the ball three times each hole. The Greek could have beaten Rufus without the extra strokes, but had let his desire to win cloud his judgment.

The Greek continued to shank balls, ignoring calls from Marcy Baldwin and the suckers to take a break and rest his weary arms. Then a man wearing loud golf clothes appeared with a sheriff in tow. The man had a sizeable welt on his forehead, and angrily pointed at the Greek. “That’s him! He’s the one who hit me.”