Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 22, No. 5, April 1968

Odds Against Losing by Louis Riley

He saw Big Lefty’s cruel black eyes, and he remembered: “When it’s the devil’s dice— Death is the only winner!”

I held the dice cup high and rattled it loudly so all could see and hear, then sent the cubes hurtling against the backstop to watch them come up seven, as I knew they would. It was my seventh pass in a row and I had gathered in better than twelve hundred dollars in the past few minutes. It was now time to quit.

The prearranged idea now was for Little Manuel, who was near the backstop, to scoop up the dice in suspicious anger, examine them closely to see if they were loaded — which they were — make a fast switch and throw the new and legitimate pair against the backstop, as though testing them for their authenticity as he pocketed mine, the crooked ones I had been using.

He was to do this after the seventh pass, and he did so. The dice he threw out cropped up a four and everyone seemed satisfied that they were not crooked. Of course, they could not know that I had a thing going with Little Manuel.

Somebody tossed me the dice and said, “Your game, yet, Pal.”

The eager and apprehensive faces surrounding the table looked at me to see what I was going to shoot this time. I had been betting fairly heavy the last few passes and some of the boys had dropped a considerable bundle. It was now time for the trouble.

I pushed the dice away and shook my head.

“I’ve had it, boys,” I said. “I’m cutting out for tonight.”

A heavy silence came over the group. They peered at me as though I were some kind of disease.

A meaningful voice nearby said quietly, “Oh, no, you’re not,” It was Lefty Syl. “You’re not leaving right now,” he said. “Not when you’re so hot and you took in so much dough.”

I singled him out. He was just a few feet away. I stepped up to him and said in his face, “Yes, I am. And I don’t think there is anybody here that can stop me.” I opened my jacket to display the thirty-eight I had stuck in my belt.

Lefty sneered at it.

“That pea shooter don’t scare me,” he snorted. He opened his own jacket to show his weapon. It was a forty-five automatic. He caressed the butt of the rod with his fingers. “There are a lot of guys laying around in the graveyard,” he said, “that would tell you about this piece of ordinance. When this baby hits them—”

Lefty Syl shrugged.

I looked around at the other men present. Their faces were all tense, but they just stood about as though nothing was going on. Little Manuel purposely ignored me: he did not want to give himself away. According to the plan, we were to split my winnings later. If anyone tumbled to him now, we would both be dead ducks.

Turning my attention back to the cold-eyed Lefty, I said, “Just one fine minute, my friend.” I made my voice gruff. “I’m beginning to get the idea that you are trying to threaten me.”

He stuck his ugly puss in mine.

“I want to tell you something, pal,” he said, “I don’t threaten nobody. When I make a threat it is not considered a threat. It is considered a statement of fact!”

Solomn Sol, the guy who had promoted the loft we were playing in, stepped in between us and pushed us apart.

“Listen, you guys,” said Sol, “I don’t want any fireworks in here. What do you want to do, jam it up for everybody?”

He looked us each sternly in the eye. “I know both you boys happen to be tough cookies, but if you louse up this joint with a shooting you’re going to bring the law pounding on the door. A thing like that would get back to the syndicate and the big boys would become very unhappy. And the survivor of this little fracas will find himself in some very hot water, immediately.”

Lefty Syl seemed to cool off a bit, but he still kept his hand on his gun.

“All right,” he said to Sol. “But this punk’s got to give us another chance to get even, or at least a chance to get some of our dough back.”

Solomn Sol looked at me to see how I took it.

I said, “I resent being called a punk; but if I am one, all I can say is it takes one to know one.”

Sol stepped between us again just as Lefty was going through the motion of drawing his cannon. “Now I’m going to tell you fellows again, I don’t want no noise up here. Go ten blocks away and settle it. Go anywhere and settle it. But don’t bring any heat by settling it here!”

I glared at Lefty.

He glared at me.

Finally, he looked around at everyone and said, “I make a motion that he shoots one more time for high stakes and then he can go to hell whether he wins or loses. Do I hear anybody second the motion?”

There was a mumbling throughout the group as they considered the proposition! Eventually, all heads save Little Manuel’s nodded yes.

“Wait a minute,” I protested hotly. “I never seen no crap game conducted by rules like this. What’s with this motion bit?”

“We just took a vote,” said Lefty. “You’re going to shoot one more time, and you’re going to shoot high.”

I looked around again at all the mugs. Their faces were hard, all except Little Manuel’s. His had a hopeless expression on it. I gave him a reassuring glance, as if to say, “If I lose this time, we can do it again later in another game.” He seemed to get the idea and gave an almost imperceptible shrug of his narrow shoulders.

I took out my roll of bills and tossed them on the table. There was fourteen hundred dollars there.

Lefty scooped up the dice and handed them to me. I put them in the cup and made a few tentative shakes.

“Wait a minute,” Lefty shouted. “I want to make sure all bets are down!”

My money was covered immediately. The beady-eyed Lefty was betting like crazy on the side that I would crap out. He was getting tremendous odds. He claimed that the delay in my shooting had made my luck defunct. I looked at him disgustedly. I knew Little Manuel would have given me anything to slip me the crooked dice then, but there wasn’t a prayer.

Finally, all bets were settled. There was a lot of cash riding on my next throw, and you could almost sense the electricity in the smoky atmosphere.

Okay. Once more I raised the cup high and shook it loudly for all to see and hear. I also made sure they seen the scowl on my face, but these guys couldn’t care less. So I smirked and cast the galloping dominoes so hard against the backboard that they bounded back within my reach.

And came up snake eyes! I had crapped out!

Lefty was jumping jubilantly up and down as he collected his money. From where I stood, it looked like quite a bit, what with all the odds he got on my crapping out. As a matter of fact, it broke up the game. Lefty had just about cleaned everyone out. Nobody was able to fade the outrageous sums he wanted to shoot. So the game broke up.

I had picked up the errant snake-eyes and said I wanted the damn things for a souvenir. I slipped them in my pocket, their beady eyes still glowering at me.

We all filed downstairs, hearing Lefty bragging at the top of his voice to Solomn Sol. A lot of those boys hated Lefty then as they trundled down the steep steps from the loft. Personally, I had my own opinion.

Downstairs, in the dark street I talked to Little Manuel.

“Next time,” I told him, “I’ll announce that I am going to quit on the sixth pass. Then, when they yelp, I’ll tell them that I’ll shoot one more time, win, lose or whatever. You palm the dice after that last throw and then we got it made. There won’t be any sore losers. They won’t be claiming that they didn’t have a chance to redeem their money.”

Little Manuel’s face said that it was a better idea than we had in the first place, and why in the hell didn’t we think of it before?

I left him on the corner and took a cab.

In the back seat of the taxi I took out the dice I had thrown craps with and idly tossed them on the seat covers. Each time they came up snake-eyes. Lefty Syl was as good a switch man as Little Manuel.

When I met. Lefty a little while later at our rendezvous, he wanted to know if I thought Little Manuel would ever get wise.

Before I answered him I put my half of the take in my pocket.

“No, I don’t think so, Lefty,” I said; “At any rate, I’m going to use him in a legitimate little game I got set up next week. Suckers like him are hard to find.”