Game of Chance

by Jack Ewing



Idaho resident Jack Ewing published his first short story in 1960. Since then, he's placed about 400 stories in publications such as Image, Cold-drill, Raconteur, and Pipe Smoker's Ephemeris, and in online ezines like Judas, A Writer's Choice, The Alternative Freelancer, and Orchard Press Mysteries (forthcoming). He has published five novels, including the mysteries Freak-Out (1998) and Kissing Asphalt (2000), and several nonfiction books. Since 1970, Jack has specialized in advertising copy writing, winning more than 200 regional and national awards for his work.





· There, Sam. What do ya think?

·· Possible. Throw the light on him.

· Hey, you! Kid!

··· You talking to me?

· A comedian. Three A.M., nobody else on the street, and he pulls the "Who, me?" bit. Yeah, you!

··· Who are you? What's with the light?

·· Police detectives, sir. Talk to you a moment, please?

··· Police? Sorry, couldn't see you with that light in my eyes. What can I do for you, officers?

· Polite, ain't he, Sam? Stand there, kid, while we get out of the car.

·· Don't move. And please keep your hands in sight, sir.

··· What's this all about? I didn't do nothing.

· Then you got nothing to worry about. We got a few questions. First question: what's your name?

··· Joe.

·· Last name?

··· Don't think I got to tell you that.

· Some reason you don't want us to know your name?

··· Look, I know my rights.

· That so?

··· Sure. I got the right to keep quiet. I got the right to a lawyer. I got â€"

· Here's another one: you got the right to scream bloody murder while I kick the living crap out of you. How'd you like that?

·· Easy, Harry. Joe, the law says you must identify yourself if asked by proper authorities in the course of their duties.

· See this badge? See this gun? They say we're proper authorities. So open up before you get yourself in trouble. Understand?

··· Okay, okay.

·· Full name?

··· Joseph Anthony Basucci.

·· Where do you live?

··· Collingwood Arms. West 64th.

·· You're a long way from home, Mr. Basucci. Where have you been until three in the morning?

··· I'd rather not say.

· He'd rather not say! Let me shake him up a little, Sam.

·· Easy, Harry. You with a girl, Joe?

··· No.

·· Visiting a friend?

··· No.

·· At a late movie?

··· No.

·· You work a night shift somewhere this side of the city?

··· No.

· Is this Twenty Questions? We got places to go, Sam. Let me speed this up.

··· Hey, don't wrinkle the jacket, man.

· Out with it: what are you doing five miles from your apartment at a time when honest people are in bed?

··· Just walking along, minding my own business. Then you cops â€" officers â€" come along to hassle me. What's this all about, anyway?

· We'll ask the questions, buddy.

··· Leggo. I didn't do nothing.

·· Nobody said you did. It's your reluctance to talk to us, Joe. Makes us suspicious.

··· Suspicious of what?

· We're always suspicious of people on the streets this time of night. Usually pimps, prostitutes, pushers, or punks.

··· You're getting spit on me!

·· We're especially leery, Joe, of people far from home and hesitant to explain why.

··· Told you, I was just out for a walk.

· Look, we can talk here, or we can go downtown and chat there.

··· No, I don't want to go to no police station. What do you want to know?

·· That's the attitude! Now, where you coming from, Joe?

··· Torchlight Room, Myrtle and Howard.

·· How'd you get from there to here?

··· Walked, like I said.

·· What streets did you take?

··· Up Myrtle to Sherman. Cut up Canal, then turned down Crawford to here.

·· Headed where?

··· Home. I was on my way to Main to catch a bus. Next one's in an hour. I can still grab it, if â€"

·· Don't worry, we'll give you a ride, if necessary. Now, Joe, during your walk, did you pass the Paradise Club on Bannister and Myrtle?

··· No. Told you: I came the other way.

· Didn't maybe stop into the Paradise Club for a quick one, an hour, two hours ago?

··· How many times I gotta tell you? No! N-O.

· Let's cut to the chase. We know you walked into the Paradise. You pulled out a pistol. You held up the joint.

··· What? You crazy?

· You did it, kid. You also killed Phil Greene, the bouncer. Shot him dead when he tried to stop you walking out with a fistful of cash from the register. Ain't that so? Speak up!

··· Leggo! That hurts! I wasn't anywhere near that place. Never been in the Paradise club. Never!

· That's what you say. We say different.

··· I didn't do it. Take your hands off me!

·· Ease off, Harry. Joe, here's our problem: witnesses at the crime scene all gave the same description of the perp. See, the place is well-lit and done all in mirrors inside, so everybody got a great look at him.

· You're toast, pal.

·· Said the killer was about six feet tall. The bartender is just that height and looked at the gunman eye-to-eye.

· How tall are you, kid?

··· Half-inch over six feet. So what? Lots of guysâ€"

·· Witnesses said he was slender.

· Scrawny, like you.

·· Cook saw the killer through the kitchen window. He's used to gauging sides of beef and put the guy at 150 pounds.

· How much you weigh, kid?

··· Dunno. Around 145 maybe, butâ€"

·· Witnesses agreed the killer had dark hair, dark eyes, dark complexion, a thin, dark moustache.

· Sound like anyone you've seen in a mirror lately, jerk?

·· There's more, Joe. Every witness gave the same description of the killer's clothing. Red high-top sneakers ...

· Check.

·· ... black pants ...

· Check.

·· ... black T-shirt, red satin jacket with stripes on the cuffs.

· Check and double-check. You did it, creep.

··· You guys are nuts! There's gotta be some kinda mistake.

· No mistake. You fit the perp to a T.

··· A coincidence or something. Sure wasn't me. I tell you, I was never in that place in my life. I didn't hold it up. And I sure never shot nobody. Don't even own a gun.

· That's what you say. Facts say different.

··· Look, let me tell you where I really was tonight. Here, I'll show you â€"

· Watch it, Sam!

·· Remove your hand from your pocket, Joe. Real slow.

··· What's the guns for? I just wanted to â€"

· The hand, dimwit. Let's see it. Now! Or I'll blow you away.

··· Okay, don't get excited.

· All right, stupe. Turn around and grab that wall.

··· But officer, honest, all I â€" ow!

· When you're told to move, move!

··· Don't have to shove me. I didn't do nothing.

· You already told us that, so shut up!

·· Move your feet back. Now, spread those legs, Joe. That's it. Relax. This'll only take a sec.

· Find the piece, Sam?

·· Nope.

· Probably ditched it somewhere. It'll turn up.

·· No weapons of any kind, unless you count this nail file.

· Seen guys marked good with those. What else?

·· Keys on a ring. Cigarettes. Matches. Comb. Hanky. Wallet. That's it.

··· Can I stand up now?

· Stay still. Anything in the wallet, Sam?

·· What have we here? A big wad of small bills. Four hundred, five hundred â€" over a thousand dollars.

· A grand was heisted from the Paradise.

··· Listen, I didn't steal â€" Ouch!

· Shut up, I said. And don't move again. Don't even twitch. I'm warning you.

·· More stuff. Photo of a young female, signed: "Love, Karen."

· Your main squeeze, bozo?

··· None of your damn business.

· Watch that mouth now. Anything else, Sam?

·· Not much. Scrap of paper with a local phone number. Postage stamps. Department store receipt.

· That's all?

·· That's it. No driver's license. No Social Security card. No credit cards. Nothing that says this wallet and its contents belong to Joseph Anthony Basucci.

· Thought so. Okay, you, start talking.

··· What do you want me to say?

· Confess.

·· The truth, Joe. Tell us why you have no I.D.

· And where all the cash came from.

··· That's easy. See, a couple weeks ago â€" hey!

· Did I tell you not to move? Did I? Maybe this'll remind you not to move again.

··· Ow! My nose!

· Keep your nose pressed up against that wall, if you know what's good for you. You hear me?

··· I'm bleeding. My nose is broken.

·· Let's see. Just a nosebleed. You'll be fine. Tilt your head back. Here's your hanky.

· Maybe you'll do what you're told next time. Now, bonehead, what about the wallet and all that money?

··· I was trying to tell youâ€"

· Stop blubbering. And speak up! Sheesh! What a crybaby!

··· I lost my wallet a couple weeks ago. Maybe somebody lifted it. Anyway, my license, credit cards, everything was gone. I applied for copies. Ain't got replacements yet.

·· What's this receipt for?

··· The wallet. Just bought it at Crest's last week. Got my initials on the outside.

·· Oh, yeah. Look here, Harry: "J-A-B."

· So? Maybe the wallet's his â€" or maybe he stole it from John Brown. Tell us about the money. Where'd it come from, kid?

··· I won it.

·· How?

· When?

·· Where?

··· Tonight. In a poker game.

· Christ, that's the oldest one in the book. Don't lie to us, kid.

··· Stop pushing me around!

· Then give us the truth, or I'll really let you have it.

··· I'm telling the truth. You gotta believe me. I won that cash at a game in the basement of the Torchlight Room. That's straight. I swear it!

· Sure, sure. Tell us another one.

·· Details, Joe.

··· Honest, I was coming from a poker party when you stopped me. Didn't want to say anything at first, â€Åšcuz I know gambling is illegal.

· So's robbery and murder, you lying scut.

·· Go on. Joe. What time did the game start?

··· About eight o'clock.

·· When did it break up?

··· Two-thirty, quarter to three.

·· You there the entire time?

··· Never left. Didn't want to leave.

· Keep it up. Just keep it up and you'll get what's coming to you.

·· Patience, Harry. Let him tell it.

· Sure, Sam. Let the little schmuck ramble on. His story's a crock and you know it.

·· We'll see. Go ahead, Joe.

··· Not much to tell. I was hotter than a pistol all night. Turned lousy pairs into full boats. Drew flushes left and right. When I bluffed with nothing, it worked, every time. I couldn't lose.

· You'll always be a loser in my book.

·· Go on, Joe.

··· Anyway, when the smoke cleared, I was a grand ahead. In fact, the only reason the game ended was I cleaned everybody out. They were mad as hell.

·· Who is everybody?

··· Come again?

·· Who'd you play cards with tonight?

··· Jeez, must of been a dozen guys came and went while the game was on. Can't remember them all.

·· We need names, Joe.

··· Don't want to get anybody in trouble.

· You're the one in trouble, pally. Cough up names.

··· One was Marty, from work â€" we're both in the mail room at the Silverstein Agency, in the Brinkley Building, downtown. Marty invited me to the game.

·· Marty have a last name?

··· Sanderson. He'll tell you I was at that game all night.

·· We'll talk to him. Who else was there?

··· I don't know last names. I met the other guys for the first time tonight. Last night, I mean.

· Oh, puh-leese! You played poker with a bunch of strangers and they let you walk away a big winner? Do we look stupid or something?

··· Stop, willya? Leggo my arm!

· Be a man, you little schmo!

·· Back off a sec, Harry. Talk some more, Joe. Who else?

··· Some fat, bald guy. Named Angelo. Runs a cigar store down at Webley Square.

·· Angelo Sardino. Small-time bookie. I know him, Harry.

··· A thin black dude with a gold tooth. Works uptown in the insurance game.

·· Who else?

··· Fred somebody, day manager at Super K. Skinny, gray-haired guy named Ernie. Stocky guy called Jim, with a eagle tattoo on his arm. A short guy with a black beard â€" Don, Dave â€" works at some factory.

·· Doing fine, Joe. Who else?

··· Lessee. Harvey, sax player from some jazz club. Pete, an old rummy who racks balls down at Bob's Billiards. How many is that?

·· Nine. Three to go.

··· I said maybe a dozen. Might have been one or two others hanging around, but that's all I remember. Honest.

·· Okay, Joe. What do you think of his story, Harry?

· Still sounds like hooey to me.

·· Easy enough to check names and descriptions. I say he's telling the truth.

··· I am! Ask anybody. They'll tell you I never left the game, except to go to the can. I was never gone more than a minute. I couldn't have pulled the job you were talking about.

·· Looks clean, Harry. If not, we know where to find him.

··· That's right! Can I go now?

· All right, beat it.

·· If I were you, Joe, I'd stay out of all-night poker games.

··· I will, believe me. Can I have my stuff back now?

·· Here.

··· Thanks. Uh, my money?

·· We'd better hang onto that.

··· What? You can't do that!

·· Yes, we can, Joe. You've already admitted to us you obtained this money illegally, by gambling. The law says â€"

··· Hey! That's not fair!

· It's the law, kid. Take it up with your congressman. You're lucky we don't run you in.

··· Run me in? For what?

·· Violation of statute 91.7, part B, of the city code: "willfully participating in a game of chance." We'd be derelict in our duty if we didn't confiscate the money, Joe.

··· Look, take a hundred. Hell, take two hundred for yourselves. But gimme back the rest, okay?

·· Careful, Joe. There's another statute about bribery.

··· You don't understand. Some of that money â€" a couple hundred â€" was mine before I got to the game. I earned that money. You can't just â€"

· Yes, we can just, kid. Now run along.

··· But my money â€"

·· It's not yours any more, Joe. There’s no proof it's your wallet. You can't prove your name. Nothing says which bills you brought and which you won illegally. So we have to take it all. Understand?

··· But you â€"

·· Don't worry, Joe. The money will go to a good cause.

··· Aw, but â€"

· Last time, kid, scram! Before we change our minds and you end up in the slammer after all.

·· Good advice, Joe.

··· Okay. You got me over a barrel. But you ain't seen the last of me. Gonna look into this!

·· You do that. It's your right as a citizen. Check it out, you'll see we're within our rights as policemen, too.

· In the meantime, move along towards home.

·· If you hustle, you can still make the next bus. Here's a couple bucks for the fare.

· Take it, kid. And move. Now!

·· Come on, Harry. Let's get back to the car. We've got our rounds to make.

· Christ, look at that kid truck along!

·· Shhh. Get in.

· Got a smoke, Sam?

·· Here. Turn on the radio, will you? And start driving.

· Sure. Jeez, that kid was sure stupid, wasn't he?

·· No worse than most.

· Didn't put up much of a fight for his dough, though, did he? How much we get?

·· Still counting. Hang a left here.

· Got ya. What's the tally?

·· Twelve hundred sixty-four dollars. Best take of the night. Here's your cut.

· Thanks. How much you figure we took in so far tonight, Sam?

·· A shade under two grand apiece.

· Not half bad.

·· Sure beats working.

· Say, that story you cooked up about the Paradise Club worked like gangbusters. But I thought we were going with the routine about a holdup at Doyle's Liquors. Kind of threw me a curve.

·· Sorry, Harry. I changed it to fit the kid's story about where he'd been. You picked up on it real quick.

· I get better at this phony cop bit all the time. Starting to like it.

·· What's not to like? We've done this â€" what? â€" fifty times last couple years. Never been caught. Hasn't even been any heat on us. Won't be, either, long as we only con less respectable citizens.

· You mean crooks like us.

·· Exactly. People with something to fear from a real cop. Especially a scary-looking cop. You're a big guy, Harry.

· I got a big gun, too.

·· Even if it isn't loaded.

· Least it's real. Beats than that cap pistol you carry.

·· Does the trick, though. You feel like one more job before we call it quits for the night?

· The more, the merrier, I say.

·· Then take a gander. You see what I see?

· Gotta be a hooker with them velvet shorts and that halter top.

·· For sure. Might have some loose cash or jewelry on her.

· Maybe even some drugs we could sell.

·· Pull over. I'll hit her with the light. We'll use the shoplifting bit, okay? Just follow my lead.

· You're the boss, Sam. Hey, lady! Hold it right there a minute.