“Edwin is gone,” Mrs. Fulton said. “Alex is going to go find him.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “He’s at one of the casinos.”
“I thought he said—”
“I know,” I said. “So he had a little relapse. It’s perfectly normal. I’ll go get him and then we can all beat on him until he admits he needs to get some help with his problem.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Uttley said.
“No, you stay here,” I said. “See if you can make Mrs. Fulton some tea or something. I won’t be long. There aren’t that many places he could be.”
“Maven’s not going to like this,” he said.
“Maven doesn’t like anything I do. So it doesn’t matter.”
On my way out, I grabbed Sylvia by the elbow and pushed her into the hallway. “Goddamn it,” I said in a whisper. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Let go of me,” she said. Her green eyes shone with enough venom to kill me seven times over.
“Why did you let him go out gambling?”
“I told you, I tried to stop him. What does it matter, anyway? You don’t care what happens to him.”
“Why are you still here?” I said. “Why don’t you tell him you want to leave, go back home to Grosse Pointe?”
“I don’t think you really want me to leave,” she said.
“Is that what this is about? Are you making him stay here because you think there’s still a chance for us? Because if you are—”
“Oh please,” she said. “That is so pathetic. And so transparent. You’re the one who’s missing it, Alex. It’s so obvious.”
“Whatever you say, Sylvia. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go find your husband.”
She caught my arm as I turned to go. “Alex,” she said, her voice low and even, the anger seemingly turned off in an instant. I could smell her perfume. I knew it would cling to me. Her scent would stay with me all night. “What’s going on? Why is she so upset about Edwin being gone?”
“I can’t talk about it right now,” I said.
“Is he really in danger? Tell me the truth.”
“I promised her I’d bring him back,” I said. “And I’m going to.”
“Your promises don’t mean anything.” She said it without malice, like it was nothing more than simple truth. “I should know.”
I HEADED TO the Bay Mills Casino first, Edwin’s favorite place to play blackjack. On the way I gave Maven a call. He wasn’t in, so I left a message that I wouldn’t be at the cabin for a while. If he really wanted to, he could let an officer sit by my phone. Dave had a key. He could pretend to be me for a night.
It almost made me happy to imagine how upset he would be when he found out I wasn’t at home. I was sure Edwin was just sitting at a blackjack table, spending money as fast as he could. He didn’t even know how to play the game. I once saw him draw two sevens against a dealer showing a six. He didn’t split them. He didn’t even stand. He hit the fourteen and busted. Most compulsive gamblers at least give themselves a fighting chance once in a while.
I’m sure that’s where he was. Or in a bar somewhere. Just like I told his mother. This prickly little ball of dread rolling up and down my back, that was just a product of my overworked imagination. God knows I had every right to it by now.
The casino is on the Bay Mills reservation, just north of Brimley. No big sign in front, no lights all over the place. The outside is all cedar, the inside is all high wooden beams and ceiling fans. It looks nothing at all like a casino, not like in Vegas or Atlantic City where they try to dazzle you into coming inside and staying. Only the noise is the same, that distinctive casino noise that hits you as soon as you walk into the place. The slot machines with that hollow electronic music, the coins hitting the metal trays, a payoff somewhere in the room every few seconds. The keno wheel spinning and clacking, slower and slower until it stops. Dealers calling out every exchange of money for chips, the pit bosses answering. A thousand voices at once, begging for the right card or the right turn on the roulette wheel, celebrating, cursing, winning, losing. You just stand in the middle of the room for five minutes, that noise starts to make sense. It starts calling your name. Tonight’s your night, it says. As long as you’re in this room, nothing can touch you. You’re better than everybody else. You’re smarter, you’re luckier. You deserve to be a winner.
A guy like Edwin doesn’t stand a chance here.
They had about twenty blackjack tables going, a Bay Mills tribe member standing at each one, dealing the cards with detached precision. I didn’t see Edwin at any of them. I pulled a pit boss over and asked him if Edwin Fulton had been in. I knew he’d know the name.
“Just got here myself,” he said. “Let me go ask somebody else.”
I watched a few hands of blackjack while he was away. The players were a strange mix of downstaters. One man was wearing the kind of clothes you only see in casinos anymore: the polyester blue sport coat, the pinkie ring, the tie as wide as a lobster bib. The man next to him looked like he walked right out of the woods: the mandatory orange pants and jacket, the hunting license pinned to his back. They were both pushing piles of chips onto the table and staring at the cards as though they were hypnotized. I wondered if they pumped extra oxygen into the air here like they do in Vegas, just to keep the bettors from getting tired.
The pit boss reappeared. “Mr. Fulton was here,” he said. “He left about two hours ago. I understand he made quite a little performance on his way out.”
“Oh beautiful,” I said. “You guys didn’t throw him out the window or anything, did you? Not that I’d blame you.”
“I wouldn’t know. Like I said, I wasn’t here.”
“Is Vinnie LeBlanc here? Red Sky? I’m sorry, I don’t know what he calls himself here. He lives down the road from me.”
“Red Sky, huh? He’s gonna hear about that one. No, I think he’s on his dinner break. He should be back soon.”
I thanked the man and left. When I was outside I took a deep breath of the night air. The casino sounds were still buzzing in my head. From the west I caught a blast of cold wind that smelled like rain.
I raced down Six Mile Road toward the city, hoping I was right behind him on his rounds through the casinos. Just before I got there, my cellular phone rang. I had a good idea who it was, but I picked it up anyway.
“McKnight, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Chief Maven, what a pleasant surprise.”
“You’re supposed to be in your cabin.”
“I’ll be there. I just have to find Edwin first.”
“Goddamn it, McKnight, are the two of you queer for each other or something?”
“Would that upset you, Chief? That I was already taken?”
“Go fuck yourself, McKnight.”
“You have a nice night, too, Chief.”
The casino was just up ahead. I hung up before he could say another word.
The Kewadin Casino is right in Sault Ste. Marie, on a little piece of land owned by the Sault tribe. They’re Chippewas just like the Bay Mills tribe, but they’re less traditional and less restrictive on the bloodlines. And they have a lot less restraint when they build casinos. The Kewadin is huge, with giant triangles on the front that are supposed to remind you of tepees. You can see that damned thing ten miles away. It has a four-star hotel, live entertainment every night, the works.
I looked at my watch. It was almost nine o’clock. Okay, Edwin, you’ve got to be here somewhere. They threw your ass out of the other place and this is the only other game in town. I started working my way up the rows of blackjack tables. I knew I had to hit them all, even the five-dollar tables, because that’s where he liked to start, see how the cards were falling that night. I remembered telling him once that he should just throw five-dollar bills out his car window on the way there. The effect would be the same.
I didn’t see any sign of him. I took a quick look through the roulette tables and the cra
ps tables. Sometimes out of desperation he’d go give them a try when he felt his luck needed a little jolt. I didn’t see him anywhere.
I didn’t know what to do. I walked back and forth between the two big rooms, looking at all the blackjack tables again. I slowed down near the horse-racing game, watched that for a couple minutes. There were a good twenty people gathered around it, one in every chair, watching the little mechanical horses go around the track. The horses weren’t more than two inches tall, probably driven by magnets under the table, and yet these people were screaming at them like it was the Kentucky Derby. On another night I would have found it pretty damned hilarious.
I got in the truck and drove all the way back to the Bay Mills Casino, hoping to catch Vinnie this time. I spotted him at one of the blackjack tables and sat down. The woman next to me had a nice little pile of five-dollar chips going. Her husband stood over her shoulder, obviously ready to offer his expert advice.
“Alex,” he said, barely looking up from the cards. “Good to see you. You come to clean us out?”
“I wouldn’t want to break this place,” I said. “Then you’d be out of a job. Actually, I was just looking for Edwin Fulton. The pit boss told me he was here around dinner time. Did you see him?”
He smiled and rolled his eyes. “Oh, I saw him,” he said. He dealt two cards to the woman and then waited for her decision. Her husband leaned in and told her to take a card. She waved him away like a mosquito.
“He left here about when, six o’clock?”
“Sounds about right,” he said. “He was not a happy man.” The woman said she was good, thank you. The husband threw his hands in the air. Vinnie turned up his cards, drew to his fifteen, and busted. He matched the woman’s chips while her husband massaged her shoulders. “Alex, you gonna play a hand here at least while we’re talking? You’re gonna get me in trouble.”
I slid him a ten-dollar bill. “Give me two chips.”
“I don’t know if we can handle that much, Alex. I’m gonna have to call the man for more chips.”
“You’re one funny Indian,” I said. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Same thing as always,” he said, dealing the cards. “He lost a ton, he drank a ton, he got ugly, we booted him.”
“That much I heard already.”
“You know, if it wasn’t for that losing a ton part, I don’t think they’d even let him in the door anymore.”
“Any idea where he went? Did he say he was going home or anything?”
“I don’t know. They did offer to call him a cab so he didn’t have to drive. He said he had a chauffeur waiting outside.”
“He doesn’t have a chauffeur,” I said.
“I didn’t think so. I guess he was just trying to show off.”
“All right. Thanks, Vinnie.”
“Do the guy a favor, eh? The next time he feels like playing blackjack, lock him in his room. Hey, you want a card here or what?”
I doubled on the seven and four, drew a ten for twenty-one.
“Looks like the cards are going your way,” he said as he paid me.
I slid the chips right back at him. I needed to get back out there to look for Edwin, wherever he might be. I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I found him, until I knew he was safe at home with his goddamned wife where he belonged. “You got that right,” I said to Vinnie as I stood up. “This is my lucky night.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
I SAT IN my truck in the Bay Mills Casino parking lot, looking out at the lights on a freighter anchored across the bay. There must be a big storm coming, I thought. They’re waiting for it to blow through before they make their last run of the season.
At least they had a reason to be sitting there doing nothing. With some idea of how long they would wait until they began moving again.
I picked up the cell phone. In the darkness it gave off an eery green glow. If I call his house and he’s there, I thought, then I can just stop this nonsense and go home. I’ll save his ass-kicking until tomorrow. But if I call his house and he’s not home, then I just end up getting Mrs. Fulton even more frantic.
Please, Uttley, pick up the phone. He didn’t.
“Alex, is that you? Did you find him?” It was Mrs. Fulton.
“Not yet, Mrs. Fulton, but he was just here at the casino. I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s probably on the way home right now,” I said. “I’m going to swing by a couple more places, just to make sure.”
“I have a bad feeling, Alex,” she said. “I told you that already, didn’t I? I’d really like you to find him immediately.”
“There’s no need to worry, Mrs. Fulton,” I said. “Can you please put Mr. Uttley on the phone?”
“Why do you want to talk to him?” she said. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“No, Mrs. Fulton.”
“Something has happened, hasn’t it?” The command in her voice finally giving way.
“No, Mrs. Fulton, I swear, everything is okay. I just want to talk to Lane for a minute.”
“Alex, I’m here,” Uttley’s voice came on. “What is it?”
“Lane,” I said, taking a couple beats to calm myself down, “will you please make sure you answer the phone next time?”
“Of course, Alex. I’m sorry, she beat me to it.”
“You have my cellular number, right? Give me a call if he comes home. I’m going to go check a few more places.”
I didn’t feel much like doing that, but I didn’t see much choice. I knew he was probably sitting in a bar somewhere, feeling sorry for himself. All that talk about being a new man, it lasted, what? Seven days? I should leave the guy alone, I thought. Let him crawl home in the morning, and then tomorrow just tell him to look in the phone book under Gamblers Anonymous. But I can’t do that. I promised Mrs. Fulton I’d find him.
And that feeling. That little tickle up and down my back. I kept wishing that it would go away. It wouldn’t.
I stopped in at the two bars in Brimley. Then I headed back east toward the Soo and stopped in at the Mariner’s Tavern. I knew that had been his bar back when he was placing bets with Tony Bing. They had a good Saturday night crowd in the place, but no Edwin.
There’s got to be something like twenty bars in Sault Ste. Marie. I hit every one of them I knew of, and even found a few new ones. I looked for his silver Mercedes in the parking lots first, then took a quick look inside just in case he had left his car somewhere else. I did that myself a few times back in Detroit, after I left the force and my wife left me. I’d start at one bar and sit there over a drink for a while until it didn’t feel like the right place to be anymore. Then I’d go to the next one. By the end of the night I was walking through the darkness, just aiming myself at the next bright light down the street. I’d have to go find my car the next morning.
When I had run out of bars in the Soo, I stopped at the Kewadin Casino again, looked over all the tables. I asked a couple pit bosses if they had seen him there that night. They hadn’t.
On a hunch I decided to go down to St. Ignace, check out the casino down there. It was a good hour’s drive south, but at least it kept me moving. I took 1-75 all the way down, crossed the line into Mackinac County. It was almost midnight by then, not many cars on the road. I saw a car with a deer tied on the back, lifeless eyes staring at me as I passed. The glow of a cigarette in the passenger’s side window.
I found the casino in St. Ignace, another one of the Sault tribe’s. I walked blinking in the sudden brightness, looked at every table, cursed myself for wasting my time with such a stupid idea, got back in the truck, and headed right back to the Soo. Another hour of driving, the wind picking up, bringing the storm in from the lake.
God, I am so tired. Why am I doing this?
My eyes were burning. I felt like somebody had hit me with a bag of sand. But I had to find him. Not just for Mrs. Fulton, but for myself. I had to know that he was safe.
> The phone rang. It was Uttley.
“Alex,” he said. “Any sign of him?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I’m going to keep looking. How’s Mrs. Fulton?”
“I think she might be asleep finally. No, wait, I think I hear her. I better go. Good luck, Alex.”
I hit the Kewadin Casino one more time. They were open all night, after all. He could walk right back in any time. I got some funny looks this time. I must have seemed like a stray dog, coming back again and again and just wandering through the tables.
The bars would be closing soon, but I knew there were a few places open in Canada. I crossed the bridge, paid the toll, pulled into the customs lane. The man in the booth asked me all the usual questions. No, there are no drugs or firearms in the vehicle. I shouldn’t be in Canada more than an hour or two. Before he let me go he asked me if I had been drinking that night. I said I had not. He looked me in my bloodshot eyes like he wanted to make an issue out of it, but then he finally just let me go through.
I looked in every bar I could find in Soo Canada. They didn’t have any casinos in Canada, but they did have a few places with exotic dancing. That’s what they called it, anyway. The women didn’t look very exotic to me, but then I wasn’t exactly in the right mood for it.
It was almost three o’clock when I came back over the bridge. I could see the Algoma Steel foundry below me, the fires burning even at this hour of the night. The wind was getting stronger. A gust hit the truck sideways and for a moment I thought it would blow me right off the bridge.
I stopped at the Kewadin Casino one more time. It was the only place in the Soo still open. The crowds had thinned out but there were still more people gambling at that hour than you would expect. There are no clocks in a casino, of course. No windows. Nothing to tell you that you’re spending the entire night throwing your money away.
I headed west. I could barely keep the truck on the road. My eyes were refusing to focus. I made myself stop at the reservation, take one more look in the Bay Mills Casino. Vinnie had finished his shift and gone home.
A Cold Day in Paradise Page 13
