Raylan: A Novel (14 page)

Raylan said, “You have to speak the language to lay down a bet?”

“My regulars, yeah, they do. Guy calls, says he wants the Saints minus seven thirty times. What’s he betting?”

“Beats me,” Raylan said. “But what if the guy loses and says he never made the bet?”

“I got him taped. I got miles of it. I ask the guy, does he want to hear himself putting it down?”

“You say you gave Jackie backup money. She says you didn’t.”

“Come on—nobody coverin for her? She don’t have enough to pay a win, she calls me. The ones bet with her know she’s in the business; she loses, she pays. They know
me
. Listen to what I’m tellin you, all right? Jackie don’t lift the twenty and takes off with it. She borrows my eighty percent to play big-time and loses it. Gets picked up in a raid and walks away. Somethin she oughtn’ve done. Now she’s workin to recover what she lost so she can pay me back, and that’s all I know.”

“She gets square with you,” Raylan said, “then what? She gives herself up?”

“She be picked up before too long, way before she gets to Vegas. Understand, Jackie wants to play her way to the Poker World Series. See, but once you spot Jackie at a table anywhere, you look twice. You might even watch her play for a while, wonderin who she is. Jackie won’t get anywhere near Vegas.”

Raylan said, “She’s not one of the girls in the bank tapes, I know that.”

“I bet they chicks can’t pay the rent,” Reno said, “and will die for some blow. I think a dude’s usin them for his needs. They not chicks’d think of banks, they too loose. Any time now they gonna walk out and see policemen waitin behind cars holding guns. See, not one of those girls has Jackie’s way of movin. The cops find out they don’t have her and act surprised. ‘Man, the girl sure looked like her.’ All the time Jackie’s at a table someplace peekin at her hole cards.”

“You don’t think she’ll give herself up.”

“She won’t have to,” Reno said, “she’ll get picked up on the warrant and brought back here. I get one of my lawyer buddies, I doubt she does any time. Jackie don’t have a record of any kind, knows how to act polite.”

“You don’t walk on a fugitive warrant,” Raylan said. “They got the stuff on you. What you have to do is find her, get her to come in before she’s picked up. She tells her story and might only get a year or so probation.”

“You want you could help me out,” Reno said. “You the one knows how to find people.”

“I’m giving you a break,” Raylan said. “I find her before you do, she’s under arrest.”

Chapter Twenty-five

H
arry took her to the races at Keeneland and sat at his table in the Blue Grass Room: Jackie having crab legs and a Guinness, Harry, a pair of lobster tails and a double whiskey collins, while they watched the races on a rainy day, staring at the giant screen. Harry had won close to five thousand betting across the board on most races. Jackie wasn’t that interested in picking horses. She made side bets with Harry and took him for half of what he’d won. Harry said, “I’m getting an idea how you win at poker. You don’t bet your hand, you bet on the serious guys at the table folding.”

Jackie said, “What’s the difference?”

She was looking past Harry, seeing a woman with teased blond hair, cool in dark shades of designer sportswear, and a guy following her through the dining room, trying to keep up in his tan suit that looked like a uniform. Closing in, the woman was looking at Jackie, not smiling until she turned to Harry and said, “Carol Conlan, Harry,” placing a hand on his shoulder, a wide porcelain bracelet slipping on her wrist, “how’re you doing?”

Holding his drink Harry took time to come around enough to look up at Carol telling him, “The last time I saw you was the day you won the Maker’s Mark. Remember?”

“Running Black Boy,” Harry said, “I won three hundred thousand off that stud.”

“What I meant,” Carol said, sounding pouty now, “you do remember I was here?” Smiling now to show the pout was for fun.

“Yeah, Cuba and I did our routine and I sat down at your table. But hey, I want you to meet Jackie Nevada, my guest.”

Jackie watched Carol raise her eyebrows and say, “Really,” surprised for a moment.

“I want you to know,” Harry said, “I have a keen interest in this little girl.”

“Sounds like fun,” Carol said.

Harry said, “Guess what she does.”

Carol took a moment. “She’s a jockey?”

“You aren’t even close.”

“But she has something to do with horses,” Carol said. “She whispers in their ears and they nod their heads?”

“She’s got nothing to do with horses. Jackie’s out in the world associating with people.”

“She’s an exotic dancer,” Carol said.

Jackie smiled and looked at the guy in the tan suit, pretty sure it was a uniform. She said to him, “What do you think I do?”

He said, “Somethin I believe must draw a crowd.”

“Once in a while,” Jackie said.

“Boyd knows all kinds, good and bad,” Carol said. “It’s why I keep him handy. Harry, you know I owe my life to Boyd.”

Harry was still holding his drink. He said to Carol, “That was a tragic situation. I guess there was nothin else your boy could’ve done but shoot that miner. What was his name, Otis something?”

“I couldn’t move,” Carol said. “Boyd stepped in front of me drawing his revolver—”

“I read in the paper,” Jackie said, “it was an automatic, a Glock? If you’d like to know what I do, I play poker. Harry staked me when I was down, just about out, and takes me to poker games.”

“I put up ten grand,” Harry said. “This was after she’d lost twenty thousand to some boys I happen to know. I was curious and had a feeling about Jackie, the way she talked about poker, on intimate terms with the game, and I decided why not? I gave her ten big ones, and said you lose it, I’ll drop you off at the next crossroads. Well, the little girl’s been on a hot streak, a few clubs in Indiana, two whole days in Louisville playin some boys don’t know what hit ’em.” He said to Jackie, “Tell Carol how much you’re up.”

She said to him, “You know you never helped me count my winnings?”

He said, “You poor thing,” and to Carol, “Louisville, Jackie put a wad of bills in the bank and got an ATM card. You want to know for how much? Ask her, she won’t tell me.”

“Well, if she was playing against high rollers,” Carol said, “and you say she was on a streak, I’ll guess . . .” Carol paused, looking at Jackie. “You’re not saying a word, are you? If you talk about it, I might think you’re bragging, so you keep it to yourself. That’s admirable restraint for a young girl . . . twenty-one years old? You’ve been playing poker all your life, haven’t you?”

“About seven years,” Jackie said.

“You started when you were—”

“Sixteen,” Jackie said, “playing online.”

“That’s close to all your life. You always play for money? What’s the point if you don’t, right? I suppose at school.”

“Butler,” Jackie said. “I played every night.”

“Do you cheat?”

“No.”

“You mean you don’t have to. You read people.”

“It’s unavoidable,” Jackie said. “You check out mannerisms while you’re deciding on the odds.”

“All there is to it,” Carol said. “We should get together, play a little poker.”

“She’s busy,” Harry said.

“When she’s not,” Carol said. “Have a drink and chat.”

“I’m actually twenty-three,” Jackie said.

Carol gave her a nice smile. She said, “Does it matter?”

N
ow at Carol’s table in the middle of the Blue Grass Room, Boyd wasn’t saying a word, hands folded in his lap. Their drinks came, white wine for Carol, Boyd, a bottle of Rolling Rock. She didn’t let him drink anything hard while he’s driving her around Lexington. He poured his beer, raised the glass to take a sip and placed it on the table again.

“I know what it was,” Carol said, “Harry calling you boy. ‘Your boy had to shoot Otis Culpepper.’ Harry calls any guy under fifty boy. He calls Jackie ‘this little girl.’ Did you hear him? Jackie’s twenty-three. She knew I’d caught her, so she owned up. It doesn’t matter to me how old she is. She’s a kid, but she’s aware.”

Boyd said, “Cause you owe your life to me you keep me
handy
? In case you want me to drive you or run an errand? You know what it’s like, hear people talkin about you while you’re sittin there?”

“She jumped on me,” Carol said, “for calling the Glock a revolver. But I don’t think to correct me. She said it to get my attention.”

“It’s your piece,” Boyd said. “I coulda told her that.”

“It’s like playing poker,” Carol said. “Her turn comes, she says, ‘I’ll raise,’ getting everyone’s attention and reveals what it will cost the table to stay in the game. I think understating the bet would be her style. I’d love to know how much she’s won, betting with Harry’s money.”

“I’ll ask her,” Boyd said, “you swear you’ll never mention Otis Culpepper again in my hearing.”

Carol sipped her wine.

“Why does it make you nervous?”

“You mean everybody thinkin I’m the one shot him? I don’t even own a gun no more.”

“We tell them the gun’s licensed,” Carol said, “and I gave it to you just in case, that evening, once we knew Otis was armed.”

Boyd stared at her across the table.

“We tell
who
the gun’s licensed?”

“The marshals,” Carol said. “One of them called again this morning.”

“Raylan?”

“No, a Bill Nichols. He’s writing a report. Wants to be sure he has the facts straight.”

“They got the sheriff’s account don’t they? Everything you told ’em?”

“They’re not coming to get us. He’d like us to stop by the office and I forgot,” Carol said. “He called again this morning and I told him we’d come in tomorrow.”

“It’s that goddamn Raylan,” Boyd said.

Chapter Twenty-six

N
ichols was telling Raylan back in the Lexington marshals office again, Jackie Nevada was no longer a bank suspect.

Raylan said, “She never was.���

“But could’ve been. Start with her droppin twenty grand in a poker game.”

“That’s her motive? You lose money, you rob a bank?”

“The Indy cops said she was acting desperate.”

“Wait,” Raylan said. “
Who
was acting desperate?”

“Why’re we arguing?” Nichols said. “We’re holding a twenty-five-year-old white girl walked out of a bank on West Main—it was this morning—with a little over two grand and a dye pack among the take. It goes off as she pushes open the door and colors her red for guilty.”

Raylan said, “She’s one of the girls in the surveillance tape?”

“The one Indy police swore was Jackie Nevada. She sent word from the cage she’s ready to talk to us. Like she’s changed her mind, gonna put the stuff on this guy has her robbin banks.”

“You know who the guy is?”

“We’re gonna find out, aren’t we?”

“What’s her name?”

“Jane Jones on her driver’s license.”

“You look her up?”

“Couple of falls for prostitution,” Nichols said. “Jane Jones both times. Her occupation’s listed as exotic dancer.”

“A stripper,” Raylan said, “when she’s not robbin banks.”

“Good-lookin young girl,” Nichols said, “blond. I wouldn’t mind seein her act.”

J
ane was brought in and seated facing Nichols at his desk, Raylan in the chair next to her. He said, “Jane . . . ?” She turned to him with not much of an expression, tired out. “You look good for gettin hit with a dye pack. Your face is just a little pink. No color on your jeans or your T-shirt.”

She said, “You should see my raincoat. You may as well throw it in the trash. I wanted to brush out my hair, but you don’t have a brush you loan out.”

Raylan asked where she was from and she said Kentucky.

“But not from around here,” Raylan said. “I think I hear Letcher or maybe Perry County in your voice. Am I right?”

“Born and lived in Hazard till I worked up my nerve to leave.”

Raylan, grinning at her, said, “Get out. You know where I’m from? Harlan County. Worked my way out and I’m back there again with the marshals.”

Now Jane was sort of smiling. “It’s hard to escape. You have to make up your mind, you gonna go? Then get the hell goin.”

“Your daddy,” Raylan said, “dug coal, didn’t he?”

“Till a mine blew up on him.”

“The one in ’96”—Raylan shaking his head—“when you were a little girl. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

“It’s all right,” Jane said. “I came away from Hazard to better myself, I end up dancin naked and robbin banks.”

Raylan smiled.

Jane said, “It isn’t funny.” But now she was grinning.

“The way you tell it it is,” Raylan said, “like ten years from now you’ll have people laughin out loud.”

She said, “That’s how long I’ll be in prison?”

“This fella made you rob the bank,” Raylan said, “didn’t he get you high and you’d think it was fun? I believe you have a case against this man. What’s his name?”

“The reason I didn’t tell it before,” Jane said, “I’m scared to death of him.”

“He’d beat you up?”

“He’d slap me I argue or don’t answer right away. Then says in his soft tone a voice, ‘Baby, you know I don’t like to hit you.’ Always this, ‘Please, baby, don’t make me do it.’ He told us we had to get five thousand each or don’t come home. So we go in a bank it’s what we ask for. Three times with the girls and once alone, when the fucking dye pack went off.”

“How much you get to keep of the take?”

“Couple hundred.”

“Did you know the other girls before?”

“Stripped with ’em for a while. Couple of Barbie dolls on drugs. Kim and Cassie.”

“He fixed you up?”

“He’d give us a hit, tell us, ‘You get done, ladies, come straight home, hear?’ This young guy would drive us to the bank and pick us up, but I bet anything Delroy was watchin.”

“Delroy,” Raylan said, “got you the jobs?”

“I said his name, didn’t I? It just come out.” Jane was squinting at Raylan now. “You know about Delroy Lewis?”

R
aylan remembered having to wait for Delroy to let go of the shotgun and put up his hands. “I arrested him one time. We didn’t say much to each other.”

“In Florida,” Nichols said. “Tall skinny guy? Convicted of assault meaning to do great bodily harm. He took a man’s arm off firing a shotgun at him as the guy’s pullin his gun.”

“Tryin to get it out of his pants,” Raylan said. “The guy wanted a million bucks for the loss of his arm. The only snitch I ever heard of packin a gun. Delroy drew seven to ten for tryin to kill him.”

“What’d he make off you girls,” Nichols said to Jane, “around forty, fifty thousand? We get him this time for bank robbery from a distance.”

“I talked to him,” Jane said, “on the phone.”

Raylan said, “You called him from here?” Wanting St. Christopher to stop her from telling Delroy she was being held.

“I told him I’d been picked up,” Jane said, “covered with red dye. You know what he said? No mellow tone a voice this time. He said, ‘Who is this, please?’ Trying to sound innocent. First time he ever said ‘please’ in his life. He knows cops are gonna be playin my call later. I’m like, ‘Come on, don’t fuck around, I’m in
jail
.’ Delroy says in a white tone a voice, ‘Who is this, please?’ I screamed at him, ‘It’s
Janie
. I got picked up.’ His white voice comes on the phone again, ‘I don’t happen to know anybody name of Jane,’ and shuts off his cell. I robbed banks for the son of a bitch. Now he don’t even know me.”

Raylan saw he’d better move this along.

Nichols’s phone rang.

He picked up and listened and said, “Tell Miss Conlan we’ll see her in just a couple minutes,” and hung up.

Jane said, “Delroy made porno movies too, in the back of his van. Kim and Cassie were in them. I wouldn’t do any.”

Nichols said, “I’ll take Miss Jones and get things started while you interview Miss Conlan.”

Raylan said, “And Boyd?”

“And Boyd.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I told the chief why you think Boyd shot Otis.”

“I know he did.”

“The chief said he wishes you’d go back to Harlan County.”

“What was his tone a voice? You don’t know when he’s kidding with you? He let you set it up, didn’t he?”

“You’re gonna owe me for this.”

“I get Boyd to shoot off his mouth,” Raylan said, “I’ll buy you a three-dollar martini.”

“Delroy’d get us in a nod,” Jane said. “I’ll have a case, won’t I? Forced to rob banks? You have to arrest him for sure now, right?” She said, “Oh my God, I just thought of somethin. The girls don’t know I’m in jail. You think I could call them? If I’m in jail they’ll know I gave him up. Somebody oughta tell them.”