Jackpot

Chapter 36

They took the elevator down to the casino. The doors parted, and Valentine and his son followed Impoco across the casino floor. The Peppermill was filled with elderly gamblers, maybe the most fervent gamblers known to man. Running through them was out of the question, and they elbowed their way toward the slot machines.

Valentine did a visual sweep of the floor. Rebecca Klinghoffer, her son and Bronco were nowhere to be seen, and he saw Impoco making a bee line toward the cage, where Rebecca would have collected her money. Impoco got the attention of the main cashier and asked where Rebecca had gone.

“She took her money and left,” the cashier said.

Impoco’s face went red, and he grabbed the bars of the cage. “I called down from upstairs, and specifically told you not to pay that woman off until I cleared it.”

“That’s right,” the cashier said.

“Then why did you?” Impoco asked.

“Because you called me back, and told me the woman was okay.”

“No, I didn’t.”

The phone in the cashier’s cage rang. Valentine heard Gerry calling him. He spun around, and saw his son standing twenty feet away, holding a house phone. Gerry hung up, and the phone in the cashier’s cage stopped ringing.

“It was Bronco,” Valentine told James. “He called and cleared it.” To the cashier, he said, “How long ago did they leave?”

“Couple of minutes,” the cashier said. “You might still catch them at the valet.”

The Peppermill’s valet stand resembled a car lot, with junkers and expensive sports cars parked side-by-side. Valentine went to the front of the line, his son and Impoco to the rear, determined to check every car before it left.

The valets had put up orange traffic cones to keep everyone driving at a safe speed. Valentine grabbed several, and used them to block off the exit. Hearing the screech of burning rubber, he lifted his head.

A white SUV had jumped onto a concrete median. It side-swiped a mini-van filled with people, then returned to the macadam. A valet ran toward it, waving frantically at the driver. The SUV sped up, and the valet dove out of its path.

Valentine froze in his tracks. The SUV was coming straight for him. Bronco was manning the wheel, Rebecca Klinghoffer riding shot, the kid strapped in back. He dropped the cones in his hands, and looked for someplace to hide.

There was none. He was a goner. He looked right at Bronco, and their eyes locked. He’d been chasing Bronco for as long as he could remember, making the guy’s life miserable every step of the way. Not the kind of thing to build a friendship over. When the SUV was on top of him, he dove instinctively to the ground.

The wheels passed inches from his head. Hugging the ground felt good, and he heard the SUV hit its brakes. It started to back up, and Valentine tried to roll away. Only, there wasn’t anyplace to roll away too.

From the car, he heard Rebecca Klinghoffer’s son screaming. The kid had Pavoratti’s lungs. It reminded Valentine of his granddaughter, who could scream so loud it set your hair on end. He braced himself to be run over, then heard Gerry’s voice.

“Don’t move, Pop!”

He lifted his head. A Cadillac Escalade leapt out of the line. It drove directly over Valentine, its wheels missing his body on both sides, then braked. It prevented the SUV from backing up onto him. Bronco hit the gas, and roared out of the valet stand.

Valentine crawled out from beneath the sports car. His son helped him to his feet, and brushed his father off.

“You okay, Pop?”

His son had been hell to raise, but was starting to make up for it.

“Never been better,” he said.