Robert Randisi: Bullets & Lies

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

“What?” Harwick looked startled again.

“Don’t think about getting into that game.”

“Why not?” Harwick asked. “It would just be a way to pass the time.”

“Not for them,” Roper said. “The reason there are three of them is that they’re waiting for a fourth, like you, to sit down so they can skin him—you.”

“Skin?”

“Take,” Roper said, “cheat.”

“What makes you think they cheat?”

“I’ve ridden a lot of trains, Mr. Harwick,” Roper said. “I’ve seen a lot of traveling poker games like that one. Maybe they won’t out-and-out cheat you, but they’ll work together against you. You wouldn’t have a chance.”

“I happen to be a very good poker player,” Harwick said stiffly.

Roper could see he wasn’t going to get anything out of Harwick, and he probably wasn’t going to be able to talk any sense into him either. He pushed his barely touched beer away and got up.

“Thanks for having a drink with me, Harwick. If you’d like to have a meal together later, stop by my compartment.”

“Fine,” Harwick said, his attention already back on the poker game.

Roper left the car.

Harwick did not stop by, and when Roper got hungry, he went to the dining car and saw that the lawyer had, indeed, joined the poker game. He barely acknowledged Roper when he went by. There were others there now, dining, some together, some alone.

Roper found himself a table and ordered a steak. He sat facing the poker players so he could watch the game. It became evident while he ate his meal that the three men had found themselves a pigeon in Edward Harwick.

The three men were laughing and jostling each other, drinking—or pretending to drink—while Harwick himself was very serious about the cards in his hand. To anyone watching, it would seem he was the only one taking the game seriously, but Roper could clearly see he was being whipsawed. The lawyer should have heeded his advice. He did not, and now he was going to pay.

Roper finished his meal and returned to his compartment.

3

Roper was reading Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper , resting on his berth, when there was a knock on his door. As he slid the door open, one hand behind him holding his gun, he was surprised to see the waiter who had served him his dinner.

“Yes?”

“Your friend, sir,” the black waiter said.

“My friend?”

“The man you had a drink with? The one playing poker?”

“Oh, him. What about him?”

“I believe him to be in danger.”

“In danger of losing his money, and it serves him right,” Roper said. “I told him not to play with them.”

“No, sir,” the waiter said. “That’s not it.”

“What is it, then?” Roper asked.

“Well, sir…he’s winning.”

“What?”

“Yes, sir,” the waiter said. “And the other men are not happy.”

“I guess not,” Roper said. “The three of them are working together. For him to be winning, they’d have to think that he was—”

“Cheating, yes, sir.”

Roper stepped back, put his gun down, donned his shoulder holster, replaced the gun in it, then put his jacket on over it.

“Let’s go,” he said, stepping into the hallway.

As Roper entered the dining car, he knew they were right on the verge of trouble. Other diners in the car had taken up positions around the game and were watching intently. He had to push his way through the crowd in order to get a clear view himself. Harwick was sitting with a lot of paper bills in front of him, more money than the other three men had, combined. He watched a couple of hands—which the lawyer won—and could not detect any cheating on the man’s part.

“Jesus Christ!” one of the other three said, slapping his useless cards down on the table. “How is he doin’ it?”

“I told you,” Harwick replied. “I’m a very good poker player. I did warn you.”

“Yeah,” one of the other men said, “but you didn’t warn us that you would cheat.”

Harwick paused in his collecting of the money and stared at the men.

“I assure you, gents, I am not cheating.”

The third man leaned forward. His jacket gaped and Roper saw the gun inside. “It’s the only way you can be beating us.”

“You all assumed that by working together you could beat me,” Harwick said. “In reality, all you could control was the way the hands were bet. None of you was good enough to deal seconds. I simply played the cards I was dealt.”

The tension grew and the crowd drew back, giving the four players space to settle their argument. Some of them even rushed from the car, not wanting to be around when lead began to fly.

Roper, on the other hand, stepped forward.

“He’s right.”

The three men looked at Roper.

“He’s better than you are,” Roper said. “There’s no shame in losing to a better player.”

“You better mind your own business, friend,” one of them said.

“This is my business, friend,” Roper said. “This man and I are traveling together on business. If you kill him, I don’t get paid. I can’t allow that.”

“You can’t allow?”

“That’s right.”

“What do you intend to do about it?”

“That depends,” Roper said, “on what you three intend to do.”

“We aim to make this cheater give us back our money,” one said.

“And then we’re gonna teach him a lesson,” a second said.

The remaining onlookers hurriedly left the car. Some remained just outside the doors at either end to peer in the windows.

“Not a chance,” Roper said.

Roper knew Harwick was not armed, and yet he didn’t seem overly concerned about his safety.

“Collect your winnings, Harwick,” Roper said. “We’re leaving.”

The three men tensed, and Roper spoke quickly.

“I’ll kill the first man who pulls a gun.”

“There’s three of us,” one said.

“I know,” Roper said, “and soon there’ll be two…then one…and finally…” He shrugged.

Harwick gathered his money into his hands in a wrinkled bundle and stood up slowly. The three men watched, all straining, itching to make a move. But Roper was an unknown to them.

“Out, Harwick,” Roper said.

“And you?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“Gentlemen,” Harwick said, “thank you for a very interesting, and lucrative, game.”

“Harwick,” Roper said between clenched teeth, “go!”

The lawyer left the car.

“And now, gents, you can go back to your game.”

“This ain’t over,” one of them said.

“What’s your name, friend?” another asked.

“Roper,” the detective said. He backed toward the door that Harwick had gone through. “For all our sakes, I hope this is over, but…until we meet again.”

He turned and went out the door.

“We can’t let them get away with this,” Eugene Cummings said.

“Don’t worry,” Arthur Carl said, “we won’t.”

“I wanna kill that Roper, whoever he is,” the third man, Ben Landau, said, “but before we kill the lawyer, I wanna know how he did it. How he cheated us.”

“He didn’t cheat us, you idiot,” Carl said. “He beat us fair and square with better cards.”

“But…we still can’t let him get away with it,” Cummings said.

“We won’t. The lawyer said he was going all the way to West Virginia. We have plenty of time.”

“To do what?” Landau asked.

“To get our money back.”

“But Roper…he must be some kind of gunman. We can’t hope to beat a gunhand.”

“Not face-to-face anyway,” Carl said.

“You mean—”