Smoke and Mirrors

84

After Billy filed the papers at the courthouse, Winter had him drop him off at his Jeep. A white SUV-which Winter assumed was carrying cutouts-tailed him from town out to the Roundtable. Winter figured Tunica County was filled with cutouts.

He parked in the Roundtable’s lot. After putting on a ball cap and shades he walked to the entrance, joining the arriving gamblers. With any luck, he would get inside before he was spotted by security. Winter wanted to get to Kurt Klein before Mulvane or White got between them.

Winter walked onto the gaming floor and, unbelievably, spotted Kurt Klein seated at a three-card poker table next to the security man Winter had seen arriving with the wealthy silver-haired industrialist. While Klein gambled, the security man sat with a glass of water in his left hand.

Winter put his sunglasses into his pocket, walked straight up to the table, and took a seat beside Kurt Klein. The security man looked across Klein to stare at Winter.

“My name is Winter Massey,” he said.

Casually, Klein said, “I’m Kurt Klein. Nice to meet you.”

Klein placed a bet, looked at Winter for the first time, and smiled. He slid a stack of chips from his pile to rest in front of Winter. “Something to keep your hands busy?”

Winter pushed them back. “I’m not much with cards.”

The security man beside Klein nodded almost imperceptibly.

“This is Steffan Finch,” Klein said. “He works for me.”

Winter looked around and saw the two other security men who had arrived with Klein move forward, their hands behind their backs.

“I’m not armed,” Winter said, slowly drawing back his jacket so Finch could see the empty high-rise holster on his belt.

Kurt Klein won with a pair of kings. The dealer had jack high.

“Do you believe in luck?” he asked Winter.

“Sometimes luck is better than skill,” he answered. “It’s just not very dependable.”

“I never depend on luck,” Kurt Klein said, raking in the chips he’d won. “I bet you are more skilled than lucky yourself.”

Winter shrugged. “I’m careful when I can be.”

“So, Mr. Massey,” Kurt said. “Are you here because you want to test your luck?” He placed four chips in front of Winter. “Play a hand with me.”

Winter placed the chips Klein had given him into the bet box, and Klein made a large bet. They watched the dealer toss out the cards.

“I guess I’m all in,” Winter said.

Klein chuckled. “That appears to be the case.”

Winter had nothing, Klein had a pair, and the dealer a king high hand.

The dealer stacked black and yellow chips in front of Klein.

“Luck doesn’t seem to be on your side,” Klein said.

“Not with cards. Is there a place we can talk in private?”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Klein said, tipping the dealer a pair of black and yellow chips. A man dressed in an official Roundtable jacket and red tie picked up Klein’s winnings, stacked them onto a tray, and walked off.

“Accompany me to the elevator,” Kurt Klein said, standing. Winter stood and walked beside Klein.

Finch led the way, the two arm-breakers trailing behind him.