King Con (14 page)

“I do, I just don’t have a real strong stomach.”

“Listen,” Beano said, leaning in and lowering his voice, “if you think I’m interested in copping a free feel, forget it. That’s not what I’m looking for.” She was really pissing him off. “What I need is your help to pull this off. I can go hire a hooker, but then we got an accomplice who’s probably not too smart and will turn us in for money. You said you wanted to be in this. … You might as well learn to be a player.”

“I’m not gonna dress up like a whore.”

“There ain’t much you
will
do, is there?” Beano said, slipping back into his native South Carolina accent, which he had all but lost, except when he was truly pissed off. “You wanna have a piece of everything. But
you won’t tell me nothing ‘cept what you think is important. Don’t matter you never stole nothing in your life, you’re gonna be the expert, gonna approve everything. You wanna tell me and John how to run this game? You wanna dole out information? What the fuck good does that do?” He was almost yelling.

“Calm down, Beano,” John said.

Beano leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “You’re right. She gets to me, John. Maybe it’s just ‘cause I feel so shitty about Carol … or maybe it’s ‘cause she and I are just oil and water, I don’t know. All I know is, I wanna do this, and all I get outta Miss Hart here is stupid questions and reasons why what I’m trying ain’t right. We won’t have any coordination this way. We’re gonna crash and burn.”

Victoria watched as he bolted out of his chair and went to the bathroom at the far end of the room.

They hadn’t planned it in advance, but they’d done so many scams together since Beano was six, John knew Beano was going to throw a fit and leave the table the minute Victoria got stubborn. He left John to be the “singer” and do Beano’s commercial for him, the way it was supposed to be done.

“Good goin’. I never saw anyone get to him like that before,” John said, laying down a primer coat of guilt.

“Hey, Mr. Bates, if you two think I’m going to be a silent partner here, then you’re in for a startling disappointment.”

“He’s good, Miss Hart. Beano could sell Ebenezer Scrooge Christmas trees. There’s no grifter on this planet with more natural talent and I seen most of them.” His voice turned rich and velvety. “Maybe you should know he grew up with Carol Sesnick. Ever since they were nine or ten years old, they were like brother and sister. He loved her. He ain’t gonna show you how much ‘cause he’s a sharper, and a sharper don’t let his feelings
show. But his heart’s all wrapped up in this thing. I personally think that’s real dangerous when you’re running a sting. You need to be detached. Him gettin’ angry like he just done is a bad sign. If we fail with a mark like Tommy Rina, we’re gonna be hanging out with a buncha engine blocks at the bottom of some lake.”

Victoria didn’t answer, but when Beano finally came back from the men’s room, she could see he had water in his hair. She wondered if he had put his head in the sink to cool down. Once he was seated they sat in silence for a while, picking at the overcooked food.

“Okay, look,” she finally volunteered. “You mentioned that the Rinas don’t have a casino because they couldn’t get approved by any gaming commissions in the U.S.”

“That’s right,” Beano mumbled.

“But it’s wrong. They do have a casino.” Both Beano and John looked up. “They’re not on any of the ownership records, but according to my information, the Rinas are majority silent partners in a huge new casino in the Bahamas called the Sabre Bay Club. I couldn’t ever prove it ‘cause they’re not on any of the paperwork, but I suspect they may also have a piece of the SARTOF Merchant Bank of Nassau. SARTOF is an acronym. Stands for Société Anonyme de Refinancement Toutes Opérations Financières.”

“Ooh-la-la,” Beano said and looked over at Paper Collar John. “That bank could be the dead-drop.”

“If it is … that’s gonna make it a whole lot easier,” John said, and Beano nodded.

“Then we should be able to scam that Bahamian casino for a couple’a million,” Beano said, upping the amount. “We need to get ahold of ‘Fit-Throwing’ Duffy. He’s the best tat player in the family.”

“What are you talking about? What’s a tat?” Victoria
said. It was starting again; they were talking in a language she didn’t understand.

“A tat is a dice con,” Beano explained, then looked back at John. “And I’m gonna need a female mack to steer Tommy.”

“The Queen of Hearts.”

“No,” Beano snapped.

“Just don’t fool around with her this time. You want a mack, she’s the best. She’s also the best looking. You won’t have to troll her past Tommy more than once.”

“Damn it, stop talking over my head,” Victoria said. “I told you about the casino. What’s a mack? Who’s the Queen of Hearts? I want to know what the hell we’re talking about.”

John turned to face her. “A mack is a sharper who runs lover cons. Cons of the heart.”

“Are we talking about some sleazeball who marries poor dumb pensioners, then takes their money and disappears?” she said.

“Yeah,” Beano acknowledged. “That’s about it. We’re also talking about my cousin-in-law, Dakota Bates. She’s a widow now, used to be married to my cousin Calvin Bates. He died in prison. They call her the Queen of Hearts, but she’s not going to be part of this hustle.”

“Just don’t hand your heart to her this time,” John advised. “You give a mack your heart, Beano, and she gets confused. She don’t know what to do with it, ‘cept squeeze it for cash and throw it on the ground. She always loved Carol, she’d wanta do this, and she’s the best. Since when did we start usin’ seconds on a sting this dangerous?”

“Okay, call her up,” Beano finally agreed. “I think she was in California, last I heard.”

“She’s right here in Adantic City. She’s been bucking the tiger in clubs off the Boardwalk.”

“I hesitate to ask,” Victoria said.

“Faro player,” Beano explained. “She hangs out on the faro tables, looking for full Toledos who pull into town flashing diamonds and driving Cadillacs. She does real good.”

There was a long moment and then Beano looked over at Victoria. “Okay, what’s it gonna be? You gonna hang on me, laugh at my jokes, and let me buy you a pearl? It’s you, or I take a chance on a hooker. Either get in or get out. Last call,” he said. Beano felt tired; his vision was beginning to split. And every time he let himself focus on the Rina brothers, he felt a panic attack. He wondered if in a direct confrontation with Joe or Tommy he could hold it together. He yanked these unsettling thoughts away, took a drink of beer, and tried to calm down.

Victoria sawed off another piece of gristly steak and tried in vain to chew it. She finally tucked it back in the corner of her mouth, like a chipmunk with an acorn. “Okay,” she said around the ball of gristle, “I’ll do what you want. …”

“Big fucking deal,” Beano muttered.

They stopped at a Western shop across from Bally’s, and Beano invested another five hundred dollars in clothes. He bought an expensive Western jacket, a wide-brimmed Stetson, and a big cowboy belt with a real rodeo buckle.

John had the pickle jar in the canvas bag on his lap. He and Victoria were seated on the brass-studded leather bench when Beano came out of the fitting room, wobbling slightly on two-inch cowboy boot heels.

“Howdy, whippersnappers,” he said, and bowed slightly.

“Who are you supposed to be now?” Victoria asked, without smiling. She thought he looked stupid.

“Justice R. McQueed, ma’am, an’ in case you ain’t guessed, I’m just about all hat an’ no cattie.” The accent was perfect West Texas. “Just in from Locadocious, Texas, with the cutest little piece a’fluff this side of yer mama’s apron.” He gave her his biggest rainmaker grin, and it brought a few drops. She let a tiny smile play momentarily on her lips.

“You can’t be serious,” she said. “Isn’t that a little over the top?”

“Give ‘em what they want. Deep down, all these Yankees think Texans are big, goofy tnillionaires who couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if it had a hole in the toe. So that’s what I’m gonna give ‘em. A big, dumb, filthy-rich Texas idiot.” He looked at Victoria critically, “Now, Sugar Plum, we gotta get you gussied up some yerself.”

They found a shop near the casino that looked like it catered to strippers and B-girls. There was an awesome selection of spandex miniskirts and plastic platform heels displayed in the window.

Victoria could not believe the outfit Beano picked. She put it on in the changing room and walked out. … Traffic stopped in the small strippers’ boutique. The dress fit like a second skin and only barely covered her panties. She kept pulling it down. Beano smiled at her. “Honey-dove,” he drawled theatrically, “you look better’n twelve acres a pregnant red hogs. Weil take it,” he said to the sales clerk.

Ten minutes later, they pulled back up to the overlit entrance of Bally’s in Victoria’s white Nissan. Beano gave the valet the keys and all three of them walked into the casino. Paper Collar John was carrying the canvas satchel with Beano’s pickle jar full of cash. They separated once they were inside. John headed to the hotel cashier. Beano and Victoria walked across the purple
carpet, past the flashing entry lights and spinning granny-slots, up the stairs, under the Eye-in-the-Sky where leery casino shift supervisors watched the gaming room for crooked action. They headed straight toward the jewelry store. John was across the room depositing the fifty thousand in a casino bank account under the name of Justice R. McQueed. He waved at Beano as he finished the transaction.

“What do I do?” Victoria was saying, the first degrees of stage fright setting in.

“Have a good time. You’re panning for gold and playing me like a widemouth bass. No matter what happens, if ya get tied up and can’t think of anything, all you gotta do is giggle. If I ask you anything and you don’t know how to answer, just say, ‘Whatever you want, Daddy.’”

“I call you Daddy?”

“Yeah … only not like in ‘Dad.’ It’s like in ‘Sugar Daddy.’ Make it as trampy as you can. Okay?”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. She was teetering slightly on the plastic platform shoes with their five-inch stiletto heels.
What a transition,
she thought. She’d gone from a no-nonsense prosecutor locked in a legal battle with Joe Rina, to a bimbo dressed in a spandex napkin, teetering on hooker heels, nervous about her one dumb bubblehead line. Two days ago, just the thought of pulling a stunt like this would have been enough to cause her massive immobilizing depression. … Now her heart was slamming inside her with unbridled excitement. “I feel like I’m the stilt-walking man at the circus on these things,” she said.

“Trust me here”—he grinned—“you don’t even faintly resemble a man on stilts.” He took her by the arm and together they moved into the jewelry store.

“Now, don’t y’all say another word. I made up my mind, Sugar-dove.” He belched at her loudly without
warning as they moved into the shop and over to the glass merchandise case. “Got some mighty fine sparklers here, don’t they?” Beano seemed slightly drunk, slurring a word here and there. It was amazing. … His drunk was subtle; he never took it too far. “Mighty nice piece’a ice, ain’t it?” he said, pointing to a particularly ugly diamond choker.

“Whatever you say, Daddy,” she said tentatively.

The store clerk caught a glimpse of Beano’s wide-brimmed Stetson and fixed on him like a heat-locked missile.

“I’m Matthew; may I help you, sir?” he said, rushing up.

“Well, I s’pose we gonna have to go an’ get us a little bauble fer Honeybee here. Ain’t that right?”

“Whatever you want, Daddy,” she simpered.

“‘At’s right, whatever I want.” He grinned at Matthew.” This lady, she already brung me a powerful heap a’luck. Yesterday I got nothin’ but losers. Couldn’t draw a pistol from a holster. Then I met Sugar Plum, and today I been so lucky, if I was settin’ on a fencepost the birds would feed me. Gotta keep the good luck flowin’, don’t we, Baby?”

“Whatever you want, Daddy.” She was beginning to feel like she needed to broaden her responses.

“What did you have in mind?” the young salesman said, as Beano started looking around in the case.

“See, I’m a big un fer lucky charms. How it goes is, I live right smack on the edge of Black Pearl Mesa, in Locadocious, Texas. So fer luck I’m gonna give this little lady the biggest black pearl y’all got in the place.”

“Could I suggest instead the diamond choker you were admiring?” he said, pointing to it.

“I ain’t about ta go an squat on my spurs here. Y’all don’t know much about luck, do ya? Gotta buy some-thin’ with meaning, son, gotta be a black pearl.”

“Oh boy,” Matthew said, “that’s going to be hard. Excuse me.” The young man rushed off and minutes later he returned with a tall, unctuous scavenger in a three-piece black pinstripe. After one look at Beano he started wringing his hands like a praying mantis.

“I’m Donald Stine. I run this store. Matt said you were looking for a black pearl?”

“‘At’s right, Don. Justice R. McQueed.” Beano shot his hand out, and when Don Stine took it, he got his knuckles cracked, Texas style.

“Gonna buy the biggest, largest ol’ black pearl y’all got.”

“Black pearls are quite rare,” Stine said.

“Then we’re at the wrong rodeo. Come on, Honey-bun.” Beano started to lead her out. Victoria now knew why girls in five-inch platform shoes all looked stupid. It was impossible to walk. You had to sort of shuffle moronically. She was teetering along behind Beano when Don Stine stopped them. “We have a few small ones in settings … but matching black pearls of any size or quality are almost impossible to find.”

“This here is one pearl we’re talkin” bout, Bucko. Don’t have t’be a match. Only got one girl, only need one pearl … see?” he grinned broadly. “I’m ready t’go to fifty thousand dollars. How’s that sound, Sugar?”

“Oh, Daddy, you’re so sweet. Whatever you say.” Victoria was beginning to get into it.

Donald Stine was distracted. He couldn’t take his eyes off her chest. She had to admit the little black stretch dress was providing good energy.

“I could call around, see what’s in our other stores. We have reciprocity with the other shops here in Atlantic City. And I’ll check the Jewelry Mart.”