Dragons Deal (14 page)

It was funny. Griffen had come to understand he didn't really know Jerome at all. How Mose did without him those long months when Jerome was up at college with him in Ann Arbor, he didn't know. He seemed to be able to juggle dozens of knives in the air all at once. Reserving suites, arranging players who would find one another's company pleasurable, hiring caterers as well as all the other people they used were only a few of the jobs he handled. He once asked if Mose knew all that Jerome did for them.

" 'Course he did!" Jerome had said, scornfully. "It's his operation!"

Touche,
Griffen thought. He had to lose his own ignorance, to be worth the people who worked for him.

"Play cards!" Ellis said. "We've only got an hour."

Griffen sat back at his ease to survey the others. He prepared to look for weaknesses in play and tells. He was amused to see they were all doing the same. Griffen couldn't take total advantage in this game. It was to benefit them, not him. He already took a piece of the gate, the percentage that came from the buy-in. He had to remember that and not play for blood. A little extra to cover his Mardi Gras expenses would be nice.

"Hey, I know you," Mike said to Peter. "I saw you on the World Poker Roundup! You made it to the final table four years ago."

Now Griffen turned to stare. The Asian man smiled modestly.

"Yes, I did," he said. "I did not win, though."

"You still took home a big purse. Over 350k, if I recall."

"That's right."

Jerome clapped his hands. "Well, we've got us a celebrity."

"Welcome," Griffen said. "It's an honor to have you at one of my games."

"Your games?" the man echoed.

"I'm Griffen McCandles. This is my operation. Thought I'd deal myself in today."

"Oh!" Peter seemed taken aback. "Well, it's a pleasure for me, then, too. This is a very nice arrangement you have. Five hundred."

He threw in his chips, and the game went on.

Griffen was curious to watch a professional at work. Peter had very neat movements, no wasted energy. His expression, when he was not chatting with the others, became a friendly grin. It was disarming, but Griffen knew better than to believe the surface appearance. He could sense dragon blood in Peter and wondered if he knew he had it.

At the hour, Noah dumped the current deck and smiled at the players. "Five minutes' break, please, gentlemen," he said.

"Hey, so what's it like playing cards for a living?" Mike asked Peter, as they got up to stretch.

Griffen went to load up on snacks from the chafing dishes on the caterer's table. He liked the suites in the Omni. Unlike some of the chains, the paintings weren't bolted to the wall, or the lamps to the desk. Hospitality meant not treating your guests like potential thieves, even though it meant that the ones who were took your towels home with them.

"Hey, man," Jerome said, appearing at his elbow. "Thanks for helpin' out."

"Happy to do it," Griffen said. "You handle so much. It's the least I can do. Any more flak from that game?"

They both knew what he meant. The cheating scandal. It still rankled with both of them. Jerome shook his head.

"No one's called it in to the police. Luis started talkin' about it at another game. The dealer had to ask him privately to knock it off, but you know how that guy loves to tell stories. No peep out of Len and Marion, but maybe they want to lie low."

"I can hardly believe that they would cheat," Griffen said, feeling at a loss. "Those two have been coming down here for years.
I've
played with him. He's cagey, but he's straight as they come. Almost pathologically honest. Mose said last time they were here they forgot to give one dealer a tip. They sent a money order from Toronto."

Jerome pressed his lips together. "I know, man. It's got to be the other one, the one who kicked up the fuss. Jordan Ma, I think his name was. I don't know how it happened. He must have noticed the missing card stuck under Marion's arm and made capital out of it. Kitty, the dealer, is too new. She's freaked out being in the middle of that. I'm gonna ride herd on her for the next few times. She won't have to deal for that man again. We have a couple of experienced dealers who can handle accusations of cheating or horseplay."

"Maybe I'll bring everyone together for a seminar," Griffen said. "We have to keep our reputation straight. It's all that we've got." A painful memory struck him. "Speaking of that, I had to let Jimmy McGill go."

"I thought that boy looked too furtive," Jerome said. "What was with him?"

"He was dealing cocaine for Tee-Bo on the side. I told him when he started that I don't allow a sideline in drugs anywhere in our operation. I gave Tee-Bo a call. He didn't know that Jimmy was working for us, either. I called Jimmy in and told him to choose which employer he wanted to stick with."

Jerome shook his head. "He gave you a sob story, didn't he? Grifter, you can't be soft on them, or they'll just walk on you!"

"I wasn't," Griffen said, feeling terrible about it all over again. "He claimed it was all a lie. I knew it wasn't. It was the second time I had caught him. I gave him another chance after he begged me to keep him. This time I fired him. I don't think Jimmy's going to be working for either of us again."

"You didn't have a choice, head dragon," Jerome said, gently punching him in the arm. "You got to do what's right and keep things straight."

Reputation was everything in the Quarter, where so many deals were sealed with a handshake. Griffen had vowed to be honest with everyone. He didn't want illegal drugs associated with his games. He had made it clear to all the employees in the operation from day one, and to everyone he had hired since he started. He knew what it had been like not all that long ago. Mose had turned a blind eye to the junk. Maybe there were other land mines that Griffen hadn't found yet. This would be strictly a gambling operation. There was plenty of money for everyone in that alone. If they wanted to do something even more illegal, Griffen wanted no part of it.

"Hey, if you have a few more games for me to sit in on, I'll play," Griffen said, as Noah called them back. "Mardi Gras is going to run me dry on capital."

"You're not supposed to be takin' profit directly from our clients," Jerome said dryly. "But I think a lot of them would be thrilled to have the big man sit in on a game. Just don't take 'em for too much."

"Me?" Griffen asked, planting a hand on his chest. Trying to keep the innocent expression on his face made them both laugh.

They returned to the table. The dealer, Noah, did a fancy shuffle on the new deck of cards. "What's your pleasure, gentlemen?"

"Texas hold 'em," said Peter. Griffen didn't groan, though he felt like it. The man seemed to pick up on his displeasure anyhow. He peered at Griffen apologetically. "You don't like hold 'em?"

"I'm old-fashioned about poker," Griffen said, startled. No wonder the guy was a professional. He could read minds. "I like the old games, even five-card stud."

"More possibilities of a working hand with hold 'em," Peter Sing said.

"Statistically, you are right," Griffen agreed. "I didn't mean to denigrate your choice. You are the guest. And you've had a lot more experience than I have. I only played in college before I came here."

"No offense taken. It's natural you have a preference. But," he said, appealing to the businessmen from Detroit, "it's my game. Shall we play?"

"Oh, yeah!" said Ellis, grinning.

Noah produced a white plastic button two inches across and put it in front of Peter. "Ten-dollar bets, blinds one hundred and two hundred."

The table anted up, and Noah dealt.

It seemed seconds later when Ellis looked at his watch and nudged his colleague. "Got to go back. Damm it. Wish we could stay."

"Me, too," Mike said. "I'd like to have had a chance to get back some of my stake." He grinned at Peter. "But it was worth it to have had a chance to play with a real pro. Too cool. Listening to tabulations of sales figures and projections for next year is just not going to cut it. Probably fall asleep during the presentations."

The man with the cockscomb hair was the big winner, having taken about a quarter of the money on the table. Griffen was next, having made a little less than 20 percent on his investment. He was fairly happy. You couldn't get that from the stock market. The businessmen had both lost money.

"Sorry you didn't do as well as you hoped," Griffen said.

Ellis was gracious. "Not to a couple of players like you. It was an education."

"We'll definitely get our buddies in," Mike promised. "Perhaps a room like this, with double tables? Mr. Sing, will you come?"

"Sure," Peter said. "I'm in town for a few more days."

"That's fantastic!" The men were enchanted. "Thanks again, guys. It was great."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Griffen said. "Looking forward to seeing you back again."

"Count on it!" Mike exclaimed.

After giving a generous tip to the dealer and the server, they headed for the elevator.

"Got two games going this evening," Jerome said, as they got up. "Put your phone on vibrate in case I need you."

"Not after eight, Jer. Having dinner with Harrison. I'd prefer not to be interrupted. I know you'll be able to handle anything that comes along."

Jerome nodded. "No problem. A little PR?"

"Fence-mending," Griffen said. "Good job, Noah." He gave the man a tip, too.

"Thanks, Mr. Griffen. It was a good game. Fun to watch you play."

Jerome turned to offer Peter a hand. "Thanks for sitting in, Peter. Hope you had a good time."

"Thank you," Peter said, slapping them both on the back.

"It was too short. I would have walked away with all your money if I had the time."

"Yeah," said Griffen. "You are welcome anytime. We'd love to have you sit in."

"Hey, Grifter . . . ?" Jerome began, a pinched look on his face.

"Just a moment. Here's my cell phone," Griffen said, jotting it down on a piece of paper. "Call me when you're free."

Peter produced a card from his pocket. "This is my number. Please call me when you have arranged more games."

The Eastern dragon grinned at them as he left the suite. He waited until he was alone in the elevator before he brought out his cell phone and pushed a speed-dial number.

"Yes, it's me. Better than you would ever dream." He grinned at the phone. "And you told me it was a liability that I played in that televised tournament."

Griffen
was nervous as he checked himself out in the mirror. He wore a dark blue matte silk shirt and a new pair of black wool trousers. He wanted to make a good impression, but not show off. Humble but honest was the name of the game. As a sly old sage had once said, sincerity was the key. If you can fake that, you've got it made. Griffen had been overcautious in telling Harrison what he needed to know to do his job, and the vice detective had let him have both barrels when he discovered how much Griffen was holding back. Griffen was concerned, and rightly so, that the human detective would freak out if he knew the whole truth, but it turned out for the wrong reasons. Harrison really wanted to know what he was dealing with. A homicidal fairy was not all that different in the damage he could do from a methhead on a toot. As a result, Harrison had been on his case. There were no breaks in Jesse Lee's murder. Harrison blamed him for that. Knowing that the victim was a dragon made it Griffen's fault. Griffen understood the logic. He felt the same way. If Griffen hadn't been a dragon, Jesse Lee might not have been killed even if he had come to work for him. The Eastern dragons saw it as the first chip off their power base.

What Griffen didn't like was that Harrison was letting his guys in vice hassle the dealers and spotters just a little, just to remind him how he had erred. Griffen thought they were both being punished enough because an innocent man had been killed. He had to make peace with Harrison. They really could help one another.

Griffen took the long way to the restaurant, stopping off at Tower Records. He browsed through the "Musicals" section of the DVDs. He had had a yen lately to watch
Guys and Dolls
. He was developing a keen sympathy for Nathan Detroit's problem of keeping one step ahead of the cops but still maintaining the Oldest Established Permanent Floating Crap Game in New York. His players were counting on him. His employees were counting on him. And now, so were the people in the Krewe of Fafnir. Griffen felt he ought to own his own copy of the movie so he could refer to it from time to time. It'd be nice to think he could handle himself with the same style and aplomb as Frank Sinatra.

With the little bag under his arm, he turned back into the heart of the Quarter. The restaurant was on a corner facing Jackson Square. Griffen strode the four blocks north on Decatur Street, dodging tourists and traffic.

The heart of the square was full of artists, fortune-tellers, and street performers. Close to the eastern edge of the park, a couple of the teenage boys were dancing to a boom box for a small knot of tourists. By their posture, Griffen didn't think they were inclined to leave tips in the upturned hat on the ground. He diverted into the stone-flagged confines and removed a five from his wallet. Ostentatiously, he dropped it into the hat. The boys did sunfish rolls on their sheet of cardboard in thanks. A couple of the visitors reached for their wallets. He grinned and angled for the diagonal path that would take him to the restaurant on the corner.

He suddenly felt uneasy. Someone was watching him, but where? He glanced around. A man in a lightweight gray suit was not-looking near the wrought-iron fence. Griffen eyed the broad shoulders. That was no tourist. He was a cop or some other kind of law enforcement. He wasn't the only one. Another man, in a tan jacket and dark blue pants, was reading a newspaper with his shoulder propped against one of the replica gaslight streetlamps. All he was missing was the rectangle cut out of the paper to peer through. Why the obvious surveillance? Was Harrison trying to hassle him just before they had dinner together? Why?