Wild Card

Chapter 53

Valentine quit work at six, and drove straight to Uncle Al’s magic shop. Through the garish front window he spied the old magician sitting behind the counter, eating a giant pastrami sandwich while slugging down a cream soda. Seeing him, Uncle Al hopped off his stool, and unlocked the front door.

“How’s the cops and robbers business?” the old magician asked.

Valentine shut the door behind him. He saw no reason to beat around the bush, and took the paper bag he was carrying, and dumped its contents onto the counter.

“Recognize these?”

Uncle Al got behind the counter and climbed onto his stool. On the plate next to his sandwich were two enormous dill pickles. He stuck one in his mouth and bit into it, causing water to spit out the other end.

“Want the other?” he asked.

Valentine stuck the second pickle into his mouth. Once, as part of a promotion, giant pickles had been given away for free on the Boardwalk for an entire summer. Everyone in Atlantic City had been eating pickles ever since.

“Those cards and dice mine?” Uncle Al asked.

“Afraid so.”

“Where did they turn up?”

“Over at the high school, along with a thousand bucks.”

Uncle Al’s eyes grew wide behind his thick glasses. “That’s a lot of money. I guess I should have stopped selling this stuff when you asked me before.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“You going to throw me in the pokey?”

Valentine gave him a hard look. No judge in town was going to do anything but give Uncle Al a slap on the wrist. “I don’t know. Are you going to pull these items off your shelves?”

“Yeah, I’ll pull them,” Uncle Al said. “I’m sorry I didn’t before. There’s a lot of neat magic tricks you can do with this stuff.”

“I’m sure there are. I want you to explain something to me.”

The old magician said sure, and Valentine removed a deck of cards from pile, took them out of their box, and spread them faceup on the counter. “This deck was sealed in a box. When I unwrapped the box and took the cards out, I discovered they weren’t in new deck order. They were all mixed up.”

“This the order you found them in?”

“Yes.”

Uncle Al looked through the cards. “Were there advertising cards and jokers in the box?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“It’s called a cold deck,” Uncle Al said. “The cheater takes a brand new deck and slits the plastic with a knife. The plastic is removed, and then the seal is steamed off the box. The deck is removed and stacked for a game of poker. The cheater picks a game where there’s a lot of betting, like seven card stud. The cheater puts the cards back in the box along with the advertising cards and jokers. He glues the seal, slips on the plastic wrap, and tapes the tear. Viola! A cold deck.”

“How is it brought into play?”

“That’s the clever part. It’s used when the players aren’t paying attention. The cheater’s partner spills a drink, and ruins the cards. That’s when the cheater brings in the cold deck. He false-shuffles them, then let’s his partner false cut them.”

“Isn’t that risky?”

“If it’s late in the game, it’s not such a big deal.”

“These are pretty sophisticated kids, huh?” Valentine asked.

“Pros.”

Uncle Al picked up his pastrami sandwich and bit into it. Valentine dropped the marked cards and crooked dice into the bag, and realized what the old magician had just told him. These kids were real criminals, just like the bookies his son was hanging around with. The kids were being influenced by all the gambling at the casino. He needed to sit down with Gerry, and get his son straightened out, or risk real problems later on. Looking around the store, he said, “Do you have any new tricks? I need something to show my son.”

Uncle Al put down his sandwich. It was held together with toothpicks and looked like it weighed a pound. “Did I ever show you the vanishing cigarette?”

“No.”

“Greatest trick ever invented.”

“Is it hard to learn?”

“A five year old can do it, with ten years of practice.” Uncle Al took a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket, removed one, and fired it up. He handed the cigarette to Valentine.

“Look normal?”

Valentine examined the burning cigarette. “Yes.”

Reaching above his head, Uncle Al plucked a beautiful red scarf out of thin air. He held it by the corners, and displayed both sides. “Watch the professor,” he said. Draping the scarf over his left fist, he made a well in the material with his right thumb. Taking the lit cigarette, he placed it into the well, lit end first. Smoke poured out of the scarf.

“You’ll ruin it,” Valentine said.

“A common misconception,” Uncle Al said. “Sim... Sala... Bim!”

Grasping a corner, Uncle Al shook the scarf out with a flourish. The material was undamaged, the cigarette gone. He smiled triumphantly.

“How did you do that?” Valentine asked.

“Ten bucks and the secret is yours.”

Valentine pulled out his wallet and discovered he had nine bucks to his name. Going outside, he found a dollar in change in the glove compartment of his car, and returned to the store and paid up. Uncle Al rang up the sale, then made Valentine stick out his hands. He examined his thumbs and said, “You’re right-handed, aren’t you?”

“That’s right,” Valentine said.

“Good. Now watch.”

Uncle Al grasped his own right thumb with his left fingers, and pulled it clean off. Then he dropped his thumb onto the counter. Valentine stared in disbelief. The thumb lying on the counter was hollow and made from flesh-colored plastic. It looked so real that it first glance, it was a little scary. Stuck inside of it was the vanished cigarette. Uncle Al removed the vanished cigarette, then stuck the device onto Valentine’s thumb. It fit perfectly.

“Get it?” he said.