Doug Allyn - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 104, No. 4 & 5. Whole No. 633 & 634, October 1994

“No.”

“Good. Here’s the balance of your money. It was a pleasure to work with you, Mr. Velvet.”

“The pleasure was mutual.”

He left the hotel room and counted quickly through the money as he waited in the empty hallway for the elevator. It had been one of the smoothest assignments he’d ever carried out. If they were all that easy—

A stocky man with graying hair had come out of one of the other rooms and was walking toward him down the hall. Nick felt a moment of panic as he sensed something familiar about the man, something from way in the past. “Hello, Nick,” the man said as he reached him. “Nice to see you again.”

“I think you must be mistaken. My name’s Dave.”

The man grinned. “Don’t recognize me, do you? Too many years since our last meeting. I’m Charlie Weston — Lieutenant Weston to you.”

The memories came flooding back. First New York, where Weston had been with the 17th Precinct, then a slower-paced New England police force in Eastbridge, Massachusetts, near Plymouth. Nick had stolen some letters from a sign there, and tangled with Weston again after that, but he hadn’t thought about the man in years. “You’re looking older, Charlie. I didn’t recognize you.”

“We’re all looking older, but I spotted you right off.”

“You with the New Orleans Police Department?”

“Yeah. Still a lieutenant, but the weather’s better down here. I’m too old for all that New England snow.”

The elevator chimed and its doors slid open but Weston placed a restraining hand on Nick’s arm. “Come down to my room for a few minutes and we’ll talk about old times.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No,” Weston said with a chuckle. “You always were a smart boy. I won’t keep you long.”

They went back down to the room as Nick began to wonder what a New Orleans detective lieutenant was doing with a downtown hotel room in the first place. The room was identical to the one Nick’s client occupied a few doors away. Nick settled into a chair and waited for Charlie Weston to start talking. When he did speak, his words couldn’t have surprised Nick more. “I want you to steal something for me.”

“Come on, Charlie.” Nick tried to laugh, growing more apprehensive by the second. “I haven’t done that sort of thing in years!”

“No? Then you can hand over the money in your pocket. Let’s stop kidding around, Nick. I arranged for you to come here, but that other business was just a blind. I need you for something important.” Nick studied the lined face opposite him, trying to read something into those half-remembered features. “All right,” he said at last, realizing he was in a trap even if he didn’t quite understand the nature of it. “What did you want stolen?”

“Time. Twenty-nine minutes of time.”

“Time! How does anyone steal time?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I want twenty-nine minutes stolen from the five hundred or so customers and employees aboard a gambling ship docked on Lake Pontchartrain.”

“It can’t be done,” Nick said immediately. “At least not by me. I only steal objects of no value. Certainly you must know that time is money, as Benjamin Franklin and others have told us.”

Weston uttered a curse. “We’re not playing games, Velvet. If you refuse to help me, I’ll arrest you on the spot for stealing that man’s mask. The victim and the woman who hired you are both prepared to testify.”

“So it was all set up in advance. Tell me, what’s the sentence for stealing a two-dollar Halloween mask in New Orleans?”

“Enough to make you regret it. Our judges don’t like you Northern criminals importing your crimes into Louisiana.”

“I can remember when you were a Northerner yourself, Lieutenant.”

“What’s your decision?”

“All right,” Nick said with a sigh. “How much are you paying me?”

“You have half of twenty-five thousand in your pocket right now, and you already received the other half.”

Nick Velvet smiled and shook his head. “No, we start fresh. Another twenty-five or it’s no deal.”

“All right, but after you do it.”

“I’ll need money for supplies in advance. The only way you can steal twenty-nine minutes from a boatload of people is to drug them, and that—”

“No drugs.”

“What?”

“No drugs. When I say twenty-nine minutes I mean exactly twenty-nine minutes, not twenty-seven or thirty-one. Any sort of drug you could give to five hundred people would be too variable in its effects.”

“I don’t know how it could be done without drugs.”

“That’s what I’m paying you for.”

“When is this to take place?”

“It must be this coming Friday night, the eighteenth.”

“That doesn’t give me much time. Seventy-two hours.”

“I’ve seen you work. You can do it.”

“May I ask why you need this done?”

“No.”

“Is it police business or something private?”

“That’s not your concern.”

“All right. Tell me about this gambling ship.”

“It’s one of two anchored on the lake, just north of the city. The other is quite legal but there’s a question about the Cajan Queen that’s being argued in the courts right now. They claim they’re not technically a gambling ship because the gambling only follows a full evening’s entertainment including dinner and a stage show. And the ship is designed to look like an old Mississippi riverboat. But that needn’t concern you. Take a look at the place tomorrow night and figure out how you’re going to do it.”

“By Friday.”

Charlie Weston nodded. “It must be Friday, or I’ll have you in a jail cell before you know what’s happening to you.”

The first thing Nick did when he reached his hotel room was to phone Gloria at home and tell her what had happened. “Nicky, you’re in trouble,” she decided when he’d finished talking. “How can we get you out of this?”

“He’ll probably have someone tailing me, so I have to go through the motions. That’s what I’m calling about. Could you fly down here in the morning and help me out?”

“What do you need?”

“I want to visit the Cajan Queen tomorrow night, have dinner, take in the show, and do a little gambling. Then I’ll know better what has to be done.”

“I’ll catch the first plane,” she promised.

Seeing her come off the jetway shortly before noon the next day, Nick was reminded once more why he’d stayed with Gloria all those years, even without a marriage license. Her hair was starting to gray now, and she refused to color it, but there was still the sense of ironic good humor about her. She viewed all of life as an amusement, one designed especially for her, and Nick was the greatest amusement of them all. She was probably the only sort of woman with whom he could ever have been content.

“Have a good flight?” he asked, giving her a quick impersonal kiss.

“It was smooth, I think. I dozed most of the way.”

“You’re not used to getting up early.”

“I guess not. What’s this place we’re going to tonight?”

“A gambling ship docked on Lake Pontchartrain, just north of the city. Only they don’t advertise the gambling. They simply call it the complete experience, like a theme park or something.”

That evening, having phoned for reservations and been told they must arrive promptly at seven, Nick and Gloria set out for the ship. It was actually on the north side of the lake, across a twenty-nine-mile-long toll causeway, and Nick entertained Gloria on the way with bits of knowledge he’d picked up during his stay. “It isn’t really a lake at all. If you look on a map you can see it’s a shallow extension of the Gulf of Mexico.”