Mr. Lucky

24

Lamar Biggs sprung Gerry out of the Harrison County jail at 5:00 A.M. He was dressed in jeans and a Mississippi State sweatshirt and had a haggard look on his face. Every cop in the place knew him, confirming Gerry’s earlier suspicions that Lamar was not casino security but in fact involved in some area of law enforcement.

“Explain to me what happened during your drive,” Lamar said.

Gerry stared out the windshield. They were on the major east-west artery of I-10, six lanes of superhighway that shot traffic from Florida to west Texas. It was an industrial wasteland, and white dust jumped up from the road with each passing car. He found himself wishing he was back home with his wife and baby daughter.

“Three good ole boys ran me off Highway 49 near the pine-milling factory,” he said. “They had shotguns and were trying to kill me. I got desperate and pulled a lever that said do not pull. It released about a hundred logs and killed them.”

Lamar mumbled under his breath. He drove like a New York cabbie, his body hunched forward, his chin a few inches off the wheel. He took an exit and five minutes later pulled down an unmarked dirt road. They came to a handsome, two-story shingle house hidden behind a stand of trees. Lamar pulled up the driveway and killed the engine.

“You live here?” Gerry asked.

“Yeah. I figured it was the safest place to bring you.”

Gerry stared at him. “What am I hiding from?”

“My wife is making breakfast,” Lamar said. “Let’s have something to eat first, and then I’ll explain what’s going on.”

The smell of grilling sausage greeted them as they entered the house. The dining-room table had two place settings, and his host pointed at one of the empty chairs. Gerry dropped into it. Taking out his cell phone, he powered it up and checked for messages. Yolanda and his father had called, both sounding worried as hell. The door leading to the kitchen swung open, and Isabelle, the lady from Louisiana he’d met the day before, entered with two steaming plates of food. She served them, all the while smiling at Gerry.

“I heard you’ve had a rough night,” she said. “Hope this helps.”

Gerry stared down at his plate. Grits, sausage, a pile of scrambled eggs with green stuff mixed in, and two steaming-hot biscuits. That was one of the things he liked about the South. No one was ever on a diet. He dug in.

“Those three boys you killed were the Dubb brothers,” Lamar said, pushing back from the table when he was done. “They’re hit men for the Dixie Mafia.”

Gerry dropped his fork on his plate. “There’s Mafia in Mississippi?”

“Yeah. They’re not Eye-talian. But that’s what they call themselves. You done?”

Gerry nodded, and Lamar stacked their plates and took them into the kitchen, then returned with a pot of coffee. He filled Gerry’s cup without being asked, then his own. Sitting, he said, “Before the casinos came, Mississippi was the poorest state in the Union. Jesse Jackson once likened it to Ethiopia. The Dixie Mafia ran the crime. Mostly drugs, like crank and blow and amphetamines, but also prostitution and small-time gambling. They even sold ruckus juice now and then.”

“What’s that?”

“Moonshine. Then the casinos came. It wiped out their gambling dens overnight. Over time, it began to eat into their other operations, as well. Their customer base started to dry up.” He shook a toothpick out of a container on the table and worked it between his gums. “Now, what I’m going to tell you is not to be repeated.”

“Okay,” Gerry said.

“The Dixie Mafia has infiltrated the Dixie Magic and probably a couple of other casinos in town, as well. They’re stealing a lot of money. It’s their last stand, so to speak.”

Gerry understood the gravity of what Lamar was saying. If word got out that Mississippi had organized crime figures working in its casinos, the state’s gambling business would be ruined overnight. It would affect everything from health care to education.

“How do you figure in this?” Gerry asked.

“I run the enforcement division of the Mississippi Gaming Commission,” Lamar said. “Isabelle and everyone you saw in that room yesterday works for me. My job is to figure out how the Dixie Mafia is cheating the casinos, and put everyone involved behind bars.”

“Wow,” Gerry said.

“Wow is right. Now, I need to ask you a question, and I want you to come clean with me.”

Gerry stiffened. “Sure.”

“What the hell happened between you and Tex Snyder yesterday?”

The truth, Gerry knew, could be your best friend or your worst enemy. It all depended upon how it came out of your mouth. He put his elbows on the table and lowered his voice. “Tex asked me to help him fleece a sucker in a poker game yesterday afternoon. He offered me fifty grand. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t tempted.”

“But you said no.”

“That’s right. I said no and walked out on him.”

Lamar worked the toothpick between his teeth and gums. “That explains a lot.”

“Why, what happened?”

Lamar smiled thinly. “From what we can figure out, the sucker got lucky and beat Tex for a few hundred big ones. The problem was, Tex wasn’t playing with his own money. He was playing with the Dixie Mafia’s money.”

Gerry felt like he’d been jabbed with a cattle prod. “Did they—”

“Go after him? Oh, yeah. The Dubb brothers beat Tex to within a few inches of his life. He’s lying in the hospital in critical condition. My guess is, Tex told them that you ran out on him and screwed up his scam. That’s why the Dubbs went after you.”

Gerry stared into the depths of his coffee and took a deep breath. If Yolanda hadn’t put his daughter on the phone, he probably would have gone along with Tex and fleeced the sucker. And that would have put him in cahoots with a group of organized criminals.

“Am I a marked man?”

“You are until we catch the last Dubb,” Lamar said.

“There’s another brother?”

“No, he’s the father. Name’s Huck. He was behind the beating of Tex. He let his sons go after you.” Lamar rose from the table, came back with a mug shot. “You can keep this.”

Gerry stared at Huck Dubb’s mug shot. He was in his mid-fifties, wore bib overalls, and looked like a hillbilly with his scraggily beard and visible nose hair. Gerry slipped the picture into his shirt pocket.

“The police are going to need you as a witness,” Lamar said, “so here’s what I’d like to suggest. You can stay here with me and Isabelle. We’ll make sure no harm comes to you, and you can enjoy some more good home cooking.”

“How long are you talking about?”

“Three, four days, tops.”

“That’s all?”

“The law works quick here.”

Gerry considered it. If Lamar’s position with the Gaming Commission was anything like the enforcement directors in other states with casino gambling, he was incredibly powerful. So powerful that he could tell the police to stick Gerry in a seedy motel and watch him round the clock. Offering to put him up was beyond the call of duty. “I’m happy to help,” Gerry said. “I appreciate the hospitality.”

Lamar smiled with his eyes. “There is one thing I’d like to ask in return.”

“You mean there’s a catch to eating Isabelle’s wonderful cooking?”

“Afraid so. The Dixie Magic is getting ripped off badly. I need you to look at all the games, see if you can spot anything. It would really help.”

Gerry took another deep breath. Telling Lamar he was an expert on casino scams had just bitten him in the ass. Would he ever stop lying to people? He doubted it; he’d been doing it too damn long. With his father’s and Mabel’s help, he guessed he could figure out what was going on.

“Be glad to,” he said.

Isabelle did not permit smoking in the house, and Gerry went out behind the garage and lit up. As he brought the match to his face, he saw that his hand was shaking. He’d nearly gotten himself in a whole lot of trouble. But somehow, for some reason, he’d been spared. He wondered if it had something to do with going to confession with Father Tom last month. Coming clean had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. But it was going to be harder to stay clean. He knew that now, and it scared him.

He removed Huck Dubb’s mug shot from his shirt pocket and stared at it. How had Huck reacted when he’d learned his three boys had gone to the big double-wide in the sky? He’s probably looking for me right now, Gerry thought.

He powered up his cell phone. He hadn’t talked to Yolanda since killing the Dubbs. He hadn’t known how to explain to her that he’d just killed three men, even though it was in self-defense. He’d disappointed his wife too much to drop this on her. So he decided to wait until he got back home. He knew it was shitty, but it was the only way he could handle it.