Unlucky (10 page)

"Stop touching me, you moron!" Royal yelled, and shoved the waiter away from him. "I'll be talking to Reginald about this. You
will
be buying me a new suit." Royal gave the waiter a final glare, then stomped across the dining area to the lobby exit, leaving a trail of spaghetti in his wake.

It was all Mallory could do to hold in her laughter until he'd made his exit. Amy's face was beet red and she had her napkin pressed over her mouth. Scooter was doubled over on the floor next to the table, giant tears streaming down his face.

When the door slammed behind him, the three of them collapsed in laughter. The other players stared for a moment, then started to join in by smiling or letting out a chuckle or two. After all, it
was
funny, and Walter Royal wasn't exactly the most popular man in Louisiana.

"I can't believe he was stupid enough to shake your hand," Amy said as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her napkin. "What was he thinking?"

"Royal is too self-absorbed to know anything about the locals," Mallory said. "Even if someone had warned him about me, he would have immediately dismissed it. His imagination would never stretch that far."

Scooter pulled himself up from the floor and slid back into his seat. "That was great, Mai," he huffed, still trying to get his breath back to normal, "but you still should have let me hit him."

Mallory grinned at her friend and shook her head. "I appreciate the desire, Scooter, and certainly have no doubts about the outcome, but you have to admit, the challenge isn't really there. It would be like shooting alligators in the game preserve."

"I guess," Scooter admitted somewhat grudgingly. "But I'm not above an unfair advantage as long as it's mine."

"Neither am I." She lifted one hand in the air. "It was handled the best way possible for the time being. Besides, I need you here watching Reginald. Royal wouldn't hesitate to file charges against either of us for hitting him and what we need to do can't be accomplished from jail."

"Why is Scooter watching Reginald?" Amy asked, a confused expression on her face.

"Because," Mallory explained, "I want to know what my uncle is up to before it comes back to bite us all in the ass."

Amy gave her a slow nod. "Okay, while I might agree in theory, do you really think it's a good idea to have Scooter following your uncle around?" Translation:
Won't Scooter make an ever-living mess of this the way he does everything
else?

Mallory shrugged. "He's the only one available, and Reginald will be more likely to say something important in front of Scooter than others." Translation: Reginald
thinks Scooter's an idiot and won't watch his words when he's around
.

Amy nodded her understanding, then turned to Scooter. "So did you find out anything?"

"Nothing to find," Scooter said. "He spent almost the entire morning back in his storeroom doing inventory. He came into the kitchen about twenty minutes ago and told me he was going to grab a bite to eat then take a shower and if I needed anything, he'd been in his office after that."

Mallory narrowed her eyes at Scooter. "I thought you told me he was taking a shower earlier this morning."

Scooter scratched his head and looked momentarily confused. "Yeah, I did. I mean, he did. At least, that's what he said." Scooter paused for a moment. "That's an awful lot of showering for a guy who spent his whole morning carrying around a clipboard."

"It certainly is," Mallory agreed. "Unless he isn't really showering."

"So what do you think he's really doing?" Amy asked.

"I don't know," Mallory said, a million ideas running through her head. Finally she turned to Scooter. "Is there any way to hear what happens in Reginald's office? I mean, how thick are the walls?"

Scooter shrugged. "The walls ain't all that thick, but if you're wanting to listen to Reginald take a shower, that's even easier to do."

"How's that?" Mallory asked.

"You see," Scooter explained, "Reginald had me put that shower in after the fact, guess he didn't think about it before, and there was no way to vent it through the floor--no room with the ducts for the air conditioning for the two levels of casino. I tried to get him to install it on an outside wall so we could vent outside the casino, but he didn't want to block his view." Scooter gave them a satisfied nod, like what he'd just said explained everything.

Mallory absorbed his ramblings for a moment, then smiled. "So you vented the bathroom into the hall, right?"

"Exactly."

Amy frowned. "So anything Reginald does in the bathroom is vented into the hall? That's gross on so many levels I'm not even going to get into it."

"It's not so bad," Scooter said. "His office is on a deadend hallway between the storage rooms." He grinned at Amy. "No one really has any reason to be back there, and the stock probably won't complain if Reginald eats beans for lunch or anything."

"That," Amy said, "was entirely too much information."

Mallory laughed but then grew serious as she thought about the conversation Scooter had overheard. "I think a trip to my uncle's vent may be in order. Scooter, why don't you pay the kitchen a visit and see if Reginald's left yet."

"No problem." Scooter rose from his chair and ambled off into the kitchen. A minute later he poked his head out and gave them a thumbs-up.

"I guess that means Reginald is done eating," Mallory said, and rose from her chair.

"Or that he's still in the kitchen knee-deep in a twenty-ounce steak," Amy said. "What if Scooter misunderstood?"

Mallory shrugged. "It's a chance I'll have to take. Besides, what's Uncle Reginald going to do? Fire me?"

Amy pulled her napkin from her lap, folded it into four equal squares, and placed in on the table next to her plate. "Then I'm going with you."

"Oh no--"

Amy held up a hand. "Don't even argue. I've put you in a bad position by being here at all. The least I can do is help out. Besides, I'd like to hear firsthand what I've gotten myself into."

The hallway to Reginald's office was dimly lit and at the very back of the casino, which suited Mallory just fine, since it cut down on the chance of being seen. She slipped down the hallway, Amy close behind, and hoped that whatever Reginald had retired to his office for was still happening when they got there.

Directly to the right of her uncle's office door, Mallory spotted the vent Scooter had mentioned. It was too high on the wall to stand next to, but there were several empty wooden crates stacked across the hallway next to the warehouse door. Mallory snagged one and placed it below the vent, then kicked off her shoes and stepped carefully onto the platform, placing her ear against the vent.

It took her a second to realize that noise she heard was a shower running. Then she heard a series of beeps, like someone punching in numbers on a phone. Someone was definitely in the bathroom. Someone who was making a phone call while pretending to shower. Someone she hoped was Reginald.

She motioned to Amy to step onto the crate and moved over to the side to ensure her friend could join her on the platform without making any physical contact. Amy nodded and stepped gently onto the crate, carefully balancing herself on the other side.

Someone coughed on the other side of the wall, and Mallory heard Reginald say, "I'm getting a bad feeling about this. I don't think it's going to work."

She wished they could hear both sides of the conversation and not just the one.

"I've got everything I own and some things I don't riding on this," Reginald said. "If it doesn't come off like you said it will, I'm a fifty-four-year-old man with no viable skills, legal ones anyway, starting over in life."

Amy stared at Mallory, her eyes growing wider as Reginald spoke. Mallory placed one finger on her lips.

"No, God damn it!" Reginald shouted, and Mallory sucked in a breath.

"I don't prefer the alternative," he continued, "as that leaves me with nothing, too. What I prefer is to go back to my life the way it was before you showed up and ruined it."

Mallory pressed closer to the wall until she was almost flattened against it, but not a peep came from the bathroom except for the spray from the shower. Several seconds passed and Mallory was just about to motion to Amy to leave when she heard an explosion of plastic against tile. Assuming her uncle had thrown the phone against the shower wall, Mallory decided about right now would be the perfect time to get the hell out of there.

She motioned to Amy, who carefully backed off the crate. Mallory waited until she was clear, then took one step away from the wall and directly onto a section of rotten board. The board split instantly from her weight and her foot went crashing through, scratching the heck out of her ankle as it went. Amy gave her a horrified look as Mallory tried to yank her foot out of the crate.

It took two tries before she pulled it free, and already she could hear Reginald yelling in his office. Any second now, they were going to be caught.

Without a moment to spare, Mallory pushed open the storeroom door and Amy ducked inside. Mallory spun around to face her uncle's office just as he yanked open the door and glared.

"What the hell are you doing out here, Mallory?
Sounds like you're tearing shit up. This ain't one of Harry's sites, you know?"

Mallory took a quick breath and tried to regroup. "I needed to speak to you about a couple of things and banged my foot on one of those crates when I walked up." She twisted her foot to the side, hoping her uncle wouldn't notice the tiny trickle of blood running down her ankle.

Reginald glanced down at her feet, then shook his head. "You shouldn't be walking around without shoes on. Jesus Christ, Mallory, you weren't raised in a barn. So what do you want?"

"I'm a little concerned about my table."

"What's the problem? Your table is running fine."

"For now. But just how long do you think Father Thomas is going to make it without telling everyone at the table, or the tournament for that matter, that I'm a cooler?"

Reginald pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and lit it. "Father Thomas gave me his word he wouldn't say anything about you. It was the only way I would agree to let him play at your table."

Mallory threw her hands up in frustration. "His word? For Christ's sake, Reginald, he made a promise to God not to repeat things said in confession and he does that on a regular basis. Why in the world would you think he'd keep this a secret just because he promised you? And why would he want to be at my table anyway? He's got to . know he's going to lose if I'm there."

Reginald puffed once on the cigar, then yanked it from his mouth, his jaw set in a hard line. "The old fool wanted a crack at beating Silas Hebert at the poker table, so that's what he got. You were part of the deal and he knew it up front. I'm not going to waste any more time on this conversation. Just do your job and your table will be fine."

Mallory narrowed her eyes at Reginald. "I'm trying to do my job, although I'm beginning to wonder if you even want your dealer to win. What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Reginald? This whole tournament seems too much, even for you."

"What I do in my casino is none of your business."

"It is if the fallout is on me--and Amy and Scooter. I've already got a bad feeling about all this. I need to know exactly what I'm worried about."

Reginald stared at her for a moment as if trying to decide what to say. Finally, he puffed once more on the cigar and shook his head. "The only thing you have to worry about is shutting down Silas Hebert. The rest will take care of itself. And believe me, you and your friends are perfectly safe in the casino. You have no idea just how safe." That said, he stepped back into his office and slammed the door behind him.

What the hell? Mallory stared at the closed door, not knowing what to think.

Finding a new job was starting to look less complicated by the minute.

Jake stood on a balcony just off the back of the restaurant and pulled out his cell phone. There was a cool breeze blowing off the Gulf and he leaned over the railing, hoping to catch a bit more of the refreshing air. He had two phone calls to make--one he was dreading and one that he hoped would be good news.

He decided to bet on the good news first. The phone had barely started ringing when the young man he had been hoping to reach picked up the call.

"Jake, is that you? Man, I been trying to find you. You out chasing the ladies?"

Jake smiled. "Hello to you too, Brian. And to answer your question, no I'm not chasing ladies--I'm out of town on business."

Brian laughed, fully aware of Jake's job and what his "business" probably consisted of. "Man, you make it sound like a bankers' convention."

"As far as you know, it is. I don't have very long, but I wanted to check in with you, see if you had some news yet."

There was a couple of seconds' pause and Jake could feel the energy from young man, even across the phone line. "Yeah, I guess you might call a full scholarship to Georgetown some news."

Jake felt the grin spread across his face. "That's fantastic! I hate to say I told you so--"

"I know, I know. But you gotta admit, it was a long shot for a guy like me."

"It was never a long shot. You just didn't believe that."

"I know, but you believed enough for both of us. And Mama prayed enough for all the saints to hear. I appreciate what you've done for me, Jake. Helping me see the things I could accomplish without the risks I was running. Let's face it, I was headed down a whole different road before I met you."

"Maybe. Or maybe you were just taking the scenic route."

Brian laughed. "Yeah, it didn't look so scenic from the backseat of a police cruiser, but since I won't be taking a chauffeured ride with the Atlantic City PD again, I'll just have to live off the memory."

"Maybe that's a memory better forgotten."

"No way, man. That ride plopped me straight down at the youth center and on the other side of your desk. You are one hard dude, but you're making a difference here."