“Where’s Nunzie?”

“Taking a siesta in the trunk,” Valentine said.

The rear end of the car started to rock. Nunzie was banging around like a bear. Vinny turned and yelled at him to calm down.

“He your brother?” Valentine asked.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Inflection.”

Valentine was standing by the driver’s window, and he tucked his weapon behind his belt, then knelt down so he and Vinny were eyeball to eyeball.

“How much do you boys know about me?”

“You’re an ex-cop from Atlantic City.”

“Anything else?”

Vinny scratched the stubble on his chin. He knew he was getting off easy, yet seemed unwilling to acknowledge it. “You do work for the casinos, catch cheaters.”

“That it?”

Frank leaned over, and whispered in his ear. Vinny’s face turned dead serious.

“You whacked the Mollo brothers,” Vinny said.

Valentine gave him his best, no-nonsense stare. The year before, some throwbacks in Atlantic City who’d been threatening Gerry had gotten blown up in a car. Even though Valentine had nothing to do with their murder, everyone on the island believed that he had. Sometimes, those things worked to your advantage, and he banged the rental loudly with his hand, then stood up.

“Don’t ever come back here again,” he said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Vinny said.

Valentine watched the rental drive to the next block, then stop. Vinny hopped out, and let his brother out of the trunk. As Nunzie climbed into the backseat, they all started yelling at one another, and he found himself smiling. Three guys in their prime had gotten outfoxed by a retired sixty-three-year-old. It didn’t get any better than that. He walked down the street to his house and was met by Gerry at the front door.

“What happened?”

“I let them go with a warning,” Valentine said.

“You beat them up any more?”

“Just their egos.”

Valentine went to his study and put the Sig Sauer back in the book, and then it hit him. While the suit from Celebrity had been threatening him, three punks had been threatening Gerry. Were the two events linked? He found Gerry waiting in the hall.

“Pop, I knowthose guys, for Christ’s sake.”

“Friends?”

“No, but I know them, from the old days.”

“They have an invitation?”

“No, but—”

“No buts. They were up to no good. A man’s house is off-limits, especially when his wife and daughter are there.”

Gerry rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Valentine went into the living room, and found his granddaughter playing on the rug with Yolanda. His late wife had hooked the rug out of his old police uniforms and Yolanda was always trying to clean up the messes that the baby left on it. Valentine had told her not to worry about it. He’d been spit on, pissed on, and puked on plenty of times as a cop; what harm would a little more do? He sat on the couch, and the baby crawled toward him. She’d be walking soon, and he clapped his hands and saw her smile.

“What’s the weather like in Puerto Rico this time of year?” he asked.

Yolanda lifted her head. Her parents lived in a bucolic town outside of San Juan, and she’d been talking about paying them a visit.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“I’d like the three of you to go down there. I’ll spring for the airline tickets and rental car.”

“Oh, Dad, that’s awfully nice of you,” Yolanda said. “I’ve got time off coming from the hospital, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Valentine picked up his squealing granddaughter while looking at his son. Gerry had a strange look on his face. He took his daughter from Valentine’s arms and handed the child to her mother.

“I need to talk to my father,” he said.

Yolanda started to speak, then thought better of it. She pushed herself off the floor and walked out of Valentine’s house with the baby in her arms. The front door made a loud click as it shut behind her.

Gerry sat down across from his father on the couch. “Pop, Yolanda doesn’t know I used to be a bookie.”

“You ever going to tell her the truth?”

“Sure, someday I’ll tell her.”

“Who the hell is Vinny Fountain?”

“An old business acquaintance. He came here to tell me that a mobster out of Newark named George Scalzo was responsible for Jack Donovan’s murder.”

“George ‘the Tuna’ Scalzo?”

“That’s right. The Tuna stole Jack’s poker scam, and had Jack whacked. The Tuna is out in Las Vegas, backing a player named Skip DeMarco in the World Poker Showdown. DeMarco is going to cheat the tournament using Jack’s scam.”

“What’s Vinny’s connection, besides his undying love for Jack?”

“Vinny agreed to buy the scam from Jack, with the money going to Jack’s mother. She lives on federal assistance.”

“And Vinny wants you to fly with him to Las Vegas, and get the scam back.”

“That’s right,” his son said.

“I hope you weren’t considering going.”

“It crossed my mind.”

“That’s dumb, Gerry.”

His son made a face like he wanted to argue, but knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere. He said, “Jack was my buddy. I owe it to him.”

Friendship had a way of making a person blind to certain realities. George Scalzo was a ruthless criminal who’d killed scores of men over the years. Vinny Fountain and his bumbling buddies were no match for someone like that.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Valentine said.

“What?”

“Take your wife and daughter to Puerto Rico and lie low for a while.”

A wall of resolution rose in his son’s face. “You’re saying I should put my tail between my legs, and run?” Gerry said.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Whenever George Scalzo gets involved with something, dead bodies turn up. I don’t want you to be one of them.”

“I can take care of myself, Pop.”

“What about your family?”

“I can take care of them, too.”

Valentine stared long and hard into his son’s handsome face. Gerry was thirty-six, and still young enough to think that nothing could harm him. Only age was going to teach him otherwise.

“Just do as I say, okay?”

“That doesn’t sound like a partner talking to me,” Gerry said.

Valentine took another deep breath. His son had joined his business with no money, and had been living off his father’s largesse while he learned the ropes.

“No, it’s your father talking,” he said.

His son rose from the couch with a dark look on his face.

“Gee,” he said, “and I thought we were in business together.”

He walked out of the room before Valentine had a chance to reply.

6

Valentine went to his study and shut the door. Gerry had a way of getting under his skin that left him feeling battered, and he wished Mabel was there. His neighbor was good at refereeing when their arguments got heated.

He sat down at his desk. Sticking out of his computer’s hard drive was the CD from the oil man that contained a clip of suspected poker cheating. Normally he didn’t work late, but he felt out of sorts and decided to have a look.

His computer whirred as it accepted the disc. Within seconds he was studying a grainy film of a poker game in the back room of a neighborhood bar. Eight middle-aged guys smoking fat cigars sat around a table with a castle of colored chips in its center. It was not something Valentine normally dealt with, and he found the letter that had accompanied the CD.

A Houston oil man had been invited to join an ongoing high-stakes game at a local watering hole. He had lost his shirt three weeks running. Suspecting foul play, on the fourth week the oil man secretly filmed the game with a video camera hidden in a briefcase.