Take Down

THIRTY-ONE

The sunlight was starting to fade when the gaming agents decided to take a break and walked out of the interrogation room. Billy had been talking nonstop, and his vocal cords were turning hoarse. He uncapped the last water bottle on the table and chugged it down.

“Let me have your pen,” he said.

His attorney handed over his gold pen. Billy scribbled on the pad. His attorney gave the question some thought.

“I’d put your odds at less than even money,” the attorney said truthfully.

It was better than having no odds at all. The gaming agents returned and took their places at the table. LaBadie replaced the cassette in the tape recorder on the table.

“Let’s continue,” LaBadie said.

“Ready when you are,” Billy said.

“We want to hear more about the rubber chip you found in Galaxy’s gift shop. You said the gold color matched the casino’s hundred-thousand-dollar chip, and this led you to believe that your crew could counterfeit these chips and use them to rob Galaxy’s casino.”

He’d told them a faithful rendition about the first two days, except for the details about his crew. Those things he’d glossed over, referring to his crew simply as a group of friends that he occasionally got together with.

“I already told you, I don’t have a crew,” he said.

“Stop playing games, Billy. You and your crew made a run at the cage and ripped the place off Saturday afternoon.”

“Never happened.”

“Did Maggie Flynn know your plans?”

He glanced sideways at his attorney. “Tell them.”

“For the record, my client does not have a crew,” Underman said. “If you continue to put words in my client’s mouth, I’ll have to ask you to stop this interrogation immediately.”

“We’re not putting words in his mouth,” LaBadie said defensively.

“I beg to differ.”

LaBadie had been around the carnival a few times and knew that Underman was establishing a line of defense to use at trial.

“Have it your way. Carl, go get the bag,” LaBadie said.

Zander left the room. When he returned, he was holding a paper bag. LaBadie took the bag and poured its contents onto the center of the table. Gold chips from Galaxy’s casino rained onto the table, their color so rich they sparkled in the light.

“Recognize these?” LaBadie asked.

Billy shook his head, playing dumb.

“They’re counterfeits. Your crew used them to steal eight million bucks.”

“I don’t have-”

“We have this on videotape, Billy. Now are you going to come clean with us or not?”

Billy picked up one of the chips and gave it a cursory glance. If they had it on tape, then he was fucked, no two ways about it. So why hadn’t they shown him the tape and gotten it over with? Why go to the trouble of making him tell his story? Either LaBadie was lying or something else was going on. All he could do was keep talking and hope for the best.

“You want to hear the rest of my story?” he asked.

“You’re not going to confess?” LaBadie asked.

“To what?”

“To all the crimes you committed.”

“I didn’t commit any crimes. I’m innocent.”

“You’re making this tough on yourself, Billy.”

“Why don’t you just listen to the rest of my story? I mean, isn’t that why we’re here?”

LaBadie parked himself in a chair. The three gaming agents put their elbows on the table, their eyes boring a hole into their suspect’s face.

“Spit it out,” LaBadie said.