James Swain - Gift sense

Valentine shrugged. "Nick probably swore Sammy to secrecy- didn't want to risk losing his license."

"Okay."

"Jump to six months ago. Nola goes to Mexico, falls back in love with Sonny. She tells Sonny about the flaw, and they decide to rip Nick off.

"Nola leaves Mexico. Sonny thinks it through, realizes the scam is flawed. Nola knows too much; she'll never pass a polygraph. So Sonny changes the plan. He gets plastic surgery, then finds a look-alike and sends him to Tahoe."

"And that's who Little Hands whacked."

Valentine nodded. "Sonny, aka Frank Fontaine, moves to Vegas. He scouts the Acropolis and hears about Roxanne's ritual of playing Billy every day. He also learns that Roxanne hates Nick. Seems they had an affair-"

"Who told you that?"

"I saw an album that Nick keeps of all the ladies he's slept with. Roxanne was in it."

Higgins shot him an angry look. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Valentine shrugged.

"You fell for her."

Valentine shrugged again.

"You sly dog."

Old blind dog was more like it, Valentine thought.

"Roxanne joins the team," he went on. "They rehearse, then try their scam last week. Fontaine beats the house silly, hoping he'll get barred so he can start a fight. It's all a ruse to get Joe Smith out of his chair so Roxanne can rob Billy. On the third night, Fontaine gets his wish, and Sammy Mann bars him. Fontaine starts brawling, but Joe Smith stays put. The whole thing's a dud."

"I'm with you so far," Higgins said.

All the talking was giving Valentine a headache. They were up high enough to see behind Caesars, and he watched a legion of shirtless men dismantle the canvas ring where Holyfield had beaten his unworthy opponent. In a week, they'd show a replay on TV, and he'd make it a point not to watch it. It was never the same after it was over.

"Go on," Higgins prodded him.

"Nola gets arrested. Fontaine springs her, brings her into the gang. Then hatches a new plan. He puts Nola in a motel. She calls Nick, who rescues her and takes her back to the Acropolis. Nola fingers the gang to Nick. Nick sends his men into the casino, not realizing it's a ruse to get Joe Smith out of his chair."

"You're saying Fontaine set himself up," Higgins said.

"Uh-huh."

"But we arrested him. What kind of plan is that?"

"He'll be out of jail in a few hours," Valentine said.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he didn't break any law," Valentine said, wishing Bill would wisen up so he could go find Gerry's body. "Reading a blackjack dealer isn't illegal. And you can't prove Fontaine grabbed Nola at the house."

"But Nola fingered him."

"To Nick. I'm sure her story will change when she talks to the police."

"But Fontaine started a brawl in the casino."

"Nick's men started the brawl. Look at the video. The only thing Fontaine's gang did was resist Nick's men. And Fontaine didn't even do that. The only law he broke was stepping foot in Nevada, which you can only fine him for."

Higgins considered Valentine's point. "Jesus," he muttered.

"Am I right?"

"Of course you're right. Stop rubbing it in."

"Sorry."

Higgins made a face. "When I brought you the hangers, you realized Nola had been planning this a long time, didn't you?"

Valentine nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was afraid you'd tell Roxanne."

"You suspected her?"

Valentine nodded again.

"Why?"

"Because I'm sixty-two and she's thirty-eight," he blurted out, his eyes fixed on the sea of flashing neon that defined the Vegas skyline. "I wanted to believe she liked me, but deep down I knew it wasn't real."

Higgins heard something in Valentine's voice that made his own soften. He put his hand on Valentine's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Hey, it really happens sometimes," he consoled him.

"Only in the movies," Valentine replied.

Higgins dropped his hand. "So how do I go about prosecuting these people?"

"Put the screws to Roxanne," Valentine said. "Threaten her with hard time, then offer to cut her a deal."

"You think she'll squawk?"

"Like a chicken with its head on the block." Valentine turned from the window. "Look, Bill, I need to beat it."

"Longo's going to want to talk to you some more," Higgins said.

"Think you can explain it to him?"

"Why? Where are you going?"

"To New York."

"Something wrong?"

"Family emergency."

Higgins looked hard and saw the grief balled up behind his friend's face. "You got a flight to catch, then go."

The truth was, Valentine didn't have a flight to catch, but he figured he could talk his way onto one. Higgins walked him to the elevator. Valentine had run out of things to say and so he stared at the hideous carpet. Pushing the button, the GCB chief said, "You want to tell me what's wrong?"

Valentine lifted his eyes and met Bill's sympathetic gaze. It was a small consolation that in the past three days he hadn't ruined every one of his friendships, and he said, "My son got whacked this afternoon."

Higgins swallowed hard. "No, Tony…"

"It was Fontaine," he said. "He threatened me a few days ago."

A shadow passed over Higgins's face.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Valentine shrugged. "Maybe I thought I was Wyatt Earp."

The elevator doors parted.

"You want me to have him hurt?" Higgins said. "I can talk to Longo. He'll break Fontaine's legs if I tell him."

Valentine knew that. But it wouldn't bring Gerry back, and it wouldn't make him feel any better. He shook his head and got into the elevator.

"Call me if you change your mind," he heard Higgins say as the doors closed. "You hear?"

Back in his suite, Valentine sat on the couch and stared into space. Every part of his body hurt, his head most of all. And tomorrow, he was going to hurt a lot more.

The scent of Roxanne's lilac perfume clung heavily to the air. On the couch were the dents she'd left in the cushions; on the coffee table, a half-smoked cigarette and her lipstick-stained drink. She was everywhere, her lovely memory haunting him. He fired up a book of casino matches to erase the intoxicating smell.

A knock on the door interrupted him. Not every member of Fontaine's gang had been apprehended, and so he approached the door cautiously. Through the peephole he saw a uniformed waiter. He cracked open the door.

"What's up?"

"Mr. Valentine?" the waiter inquired.

"That's me."

The waiter handed Valentine a cream-colored envelope. "Mr. Nicocropolis apologizes for not delivering this in person, but he's busy with the police."

Valentine reached for his wallet and the waiter shook his head.

"No need, Mr. Valentine. Good night."

He walked away and Valentine tore the envelope open. Inside were fifty hundred-dollar bills. And a note. Tony, Billy's jackpot would have busted me-I'm liable for the first three million. Thanks. Wily told me about your son. Really sorry. My jet is still available. Nick P.S. You're a good guy, even if you are from Jersey.

Valentine took out his wallet and added the bills to his growing collection. Then he slipped Nick's note in behind his torn honeymoon photo. After Lois died, he found a scrapbook in her closet filled with newspaper clippings and commendations he'd received as a cop. She'd cared about that stuff, and he would add Nick's note to the collection, knowing how happy it would have made her.

He was tossing his dirty clothes into his suitcase when the phone rang. He ignored it, not wanting to talk. But to his annoyance, it continued to ring. Apparently this call was not going to voice mail. He lifted the receiver to his ear and said, "Yeah?"

"Tony? Is that you?"

"Mabel?"

"I'm free," she squealed with delight. "I know it's late out there, but I had to call and tell you my good news."