|Brisco Waters, Private Eye (Part 3) (standard:mystery, 1478 words) [3/5] show all parts|
|Author: Red Storm||Added: Jul 22 2001||Views/Reads: 1210/802||Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Brisco, having found nothing but trouble in his quest so far, decides to gamble with his life at the casino. Will he find answers? Trouble? Both? Probably so.|
It was getting late, and I knew that the casino closed at three in the morning. It was nothing like the elegant casinos in upstate Illinois, more like an abandoned warehouse full of stolen slot machines, card tables, and roulette wheels. As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what it was. It was a legitimate business, though, and honest people as well as dishonest people gambled here, which made it a harder place to gather information. Should a fight break out here, there were innocent lives thrown into the mix. I didn’t like it, but had no other choice. It was at this point that I had a notion to make good on an offer from an old friend. I don’t really know why I did it, because I had never done it before, but I decided to put a call through to Chuck Mallard, Chicago P.D. and let him know the situation. I wanted someone to know where I was in case something happened. Like I said, it was a gut notion and I don’t know why I did it. The call went out from the police-band radio mounted on the dash of my coupe around midnight. Chuck was on patrol six miles away, and said that he would keep an eye on the area until I got back to him. Good, I was ready. The dress code wasn’t as formal as the uptown casinos, so I blended in well with my light brown overcoat draped over the usual button-up and tie. It was raining hard outside, and I was drenched when I walked into the bright building. It really was a pretty nice place, and gamblers covered the place like ants on a hill. The card tables were packed tight, as well as the slots. I knew that the high-stakes gamblers were card-playing mobsters, so I pushed my way though to the tables. Taking a newly vacated seat next to a well-dressed young woman, I dropped a few chips onto the green felt table to ante up. It was poker, my kind of game. The dealer tossed me two cards, which I hardly noticed until the betting began. I was scanning the area for any known faces, finding only one in the far corner of the building. Leon “the Tub” Wassaluki, a very large man who had known contacts in one of the more organized crime organizations in Chicago. He was seated among a couple of unknowns at a poorly-lit table in the dining area, taking advantage of the all you can eat oyster promotion. “Your bet sir?” The dealer asked me for the second time, snapping my attention back to the table. I tossed another chip into the pile and checked my cards. An ace of hearts and a three of clubs. Not an especially wonderful hand, but who cared. Another card, another chip. By the time my hand was full, I had the ace and three, along with a King and Queen of hearts and a five of spades. Throwing the last of my chips into the pile, I decided to give my three and five back and get two new cards. I smiled as the new cards came up a ten and Jack of hearts, Royal Flush. The other players immediately caught my grin and folded, but it was late in the game and I won a significant hand. Good thing I wasn’t here for pleasure, or I would have probably kept going and lost it all back to the dealer. I approached Tubby’s table and took a seat next to him, surprising myself at the boldness I was showing. “Brisco Waters, what the hell are you up to?” He asked, slurping an oyster down and licking his thick lips. “Just enjoying a few games of poker, you?” I asked casually. “Watching all of these fools lose their money playing a few games of poker. So, you come out a winner tonight, or a loser as usual?” He waved an approaching henchman off as I thought about the question. “Matter of fact, I’ve won $38,” I answered slowly. “Well, consider it good luck and call it a night. They say if you stick around long enough, you always lose.” The look in his eyes told me that we were no longer talking about poker. I didn’t feel like calling it a night just yet. “Good advice, Tubs. Now I need some more help,” I leaned over his table and lowered my voice, “information.” I leaned back in my chair and let him swallow that one, along with a heaping drink of red wine. Click here to read the rest of this story (82 more lines)
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