"Okay, call her up," Beano finally agreed. "I think she was in California, last I heard."
"She's right here in Adantic City. She's been bucking the tiger in clubs off the Boardwalk."
"I hesitate to ask," Victoria said.
"Faro player," Beano explained. "She hangs out on the faro tables, looking for full Toledos who pull into town flashing diamonds and driving Cadillacs. She does real good."
There was a long moment and then Beano looked over at Victoria. "Okay, what's it gonna be? You gonna hang on me, laugh at my jokes, and let me buy you a pearl? It's you, or I take a chance on a hooker. Either get in or get out. Last call," he said. Beano felt tired; his vision was beginning to split. And every time he let himself focus on the Rina brothers, he felt a panic attack. He wondered if in a direct confrontation with Joe or Tommy he could hold it together. He yanked these unsettling thoughts away, took a drink of beer, and tried to calm down.
Victoria sawed off another piece of gristly steak and tried in vain to chew it. She finally tucked it back in the corner of her mouth, like a chipmunk with an acorn. "Okay," she said around the ball of gristle, "I'll do what you want. ..."
"Big fucking deal," Beano muttered.
They stopped at a Western shop across from Bally's, and Beano invested another five hundred dollars in clothes. He bought an expensive Western jacket, a wide-brimmed Stetson, and a big cowboy belt with a real rodeo buckle.
John had the pickle jar in the canvas bag on his lap. He and Victoria were seated on the brass-studded leather bench when Beano came out of the fitting room, wobbling slightly on two-inch cowboy boot heels.
"Howdy, whippersnappers," he said, and bowed slightly.
"Who are you supposed to be now?" Victoria asked, without smiling. She thought he looked stupid.
"Justice R. McQueed, ma'am, an' in case you ain't guessed, I'm just about all hat an' no cattie." The accent was perfect West Texas. "Just in from Locadocious, Texas, with the cutest little piece a'fluff this side of yer mama's apron." He gave her his biggest rainmaker grin, and it brought a few drops. She let a tiny smile play momentarily on her lips.
"You can't be serious," she said. "Isn't that a little over the top?"
"Give 'em what they want. Deep down, all these Yankees think Texans are big, goofy tnillionaires who couldn't pour piss out of a boot if it had a hole in the toe. So that's what I'm gonna give 'em. A big, dumb, filthy-rich Texas idiot." He looked at Victoria critically, "Now, Sugar Plum, we gotta get you gussied up some yerself."
They found a shop near the casino that looked like it catered to strippers and B-girls. There was an awesome selection of spandex miniskirts and plastic platform heels displayed in the window.
Victoria could not believe the outfit Beano picked. She put it on in the changing room and walked out. ... Traffic stopped in the small strippers' boutique. The dress fit like a second skin and only barely covered her panties. She kept pulling it down. Beano smiled at her. "Honey-dove," he drawled theatrically, "you look better'n twelve acres a pregnant red hogs. Weil take it," he said to the sales clerk.
Ten minutes later, they pulled back up to the overlit entrance of Bally's in Victoria's white Nissan. Beano gave the valet the keys and all three of them walked into the casino. Paper Collar John was carrying the canvas satchel with Beano's pickle jar full of cash. They separated once they were inside. John headed to the hotel cashier. Beano and Victoria walked across the purple carpet, past the flashing entry lights and spinning granny-slots, up the stairs, under the Eye-in-the-Sky where leery casino shift supervisors watched the gaming room for crooked action. They headed straight toward the jewelry store. John was across the room depositing the fifty thousand in a casino bank account under the name of Justice R. McQueed. He waved at Beano as he finished the transaction.
"What do I do?" Victoria was saying, the first degrees of stage fright setting in.
"Have a good time. You're panning for gold and playing me like a widemouth bass. No matter what happens, if ya get tied up and can't think of anything, all you gotta do is giggle. If I ask you anything and you don't know how to answer, just say, 'Whatever you want, Daddy.'"
"I call you Daddy?"
"Yeah ... only not like in 'Dad.' It's like in 'Sugar Daddy.' Make it as trampy as you can. Okay?"
"Okay." She took a deep breath. She was teetering slightly on the plastic platform shoes with their five-inch stiletto heels. What a transition, she thought. She'd gone from a no-nonsense prosecutor locked in a legal battle with Joe Rina, to a bimbo dressed in a spandex napkin, teetering on hooker heels, nervous about her one dumb bubblehead line. Two days ago, just the thought of pulling a stunt like this would have been enough to cause her massive immobilizing depression. ... Now her heart was slamming inside her with unbridled excitement. "I feel like I'm the stilt-walking man at the circus on these things," she said.
"Trust me here"--he grinned--"you don't even faintly resemble a man on stilts." He took her by the arm and together they moved into the jewelry store.
"Now, don't y'all say another word. I made up my mind, Sugar-dove." He belched at her loudly without warning as they moved into the shop and over to the glass merchandise case. "Got some mighty fine sparklers here, don't they?" Beano seemed slightly drunk, slurring a word here and there. It was amazing. ... His drunk was subtle; he never took it too far. "Mighty nice piece'a ice, ain't it?" he said, pointing to a particularly ugly diamond choker.
"Whatever you say, Daddy," she said tentatively.
The store clerk caught a glimpse of Beano's wide-brimmed Stetson and fixed on him like a heat-locked missile.
"I'm Matthew; may I help you, sir?" he said, rushing up.
"Well, I s'pose we gonna have to go an' get us a little bauble fer Honeybee here. Ain't that right?"
"Whatever you want, Daddy," she simpered.
"'At's right, whatever I want." He grinned at Matthew." This lady, she already brung me a powerful heap a'luck. Yesterday I got nothin' but losers. Couldn't draw a pistol from a holster. Then I met Sugar Plum, and today I been so lucky, if I was settin' on a fencepost the birds would feed me. Gotta keep the good luck flowin', don't we, Baby?"
"Whatever you want, Daddy." She was beginning to feel like she needed to broaden her responses.
"What did you have in mind?" the young salesman said, as Beano started looking around in the case.
"See, I'm a big un fer lucky charms. How it goes is, I live right smack on the edge of Black Pearl Mesa, in Locadocious, Texas. So fer luck I'm gonna give this little lady the biggest black pearl y'all got in the place."
"Could I suggest instead the diamond choker you were admiring?" he said, pointing to it.
"I ain't about ta go an squat on my spurs here. Y'all don't know much about luck, do ya? Gotta buy some-thin' with meaning, son, gotta be a black pearl."
"Oh boy," Matthew said, "that's going to be hard. Excuse me." The young man rushed off and minutes later he returned with a tall, unctuous scavenger in a three-piece black pinstripe. After one look at Beano he started wringing his hands like a praying mantis.
"I'm Donald Stine. I run this store. Matt said you were looking for a black pearl?"
"'At's right, Don. Justice R. McQueed." Beano shot his hand out, and when Don Stine took it, he got his knuckles cracked, Texas style.
"Gonna buy the biggest, largest ol' black pearl y'all got."
"Black pearls are quite rare," Stine said.
"Then we're at the wrong rodeo. Come on, Honey-bun." Beano started to lead her out. Victoria now knew why girls in five-inch platform shoes all looked stupid. It was impossible to walk. You had to sort of shuffle moronically. She was teetering along behind Beano when Don Stine stopped them. "We have a few small ones in settings ... but matching black pearls of any size or quality are almost impossible to find."
"This here is one pearl we're talkin" bout, Bucko. Don't have t'be a match. Only got one girl, only need one pearl ... see?" he grinned broadly. "I'm ready t'go to fifty thousand dol
lars. How's that sound, Sugar?"
"Oh, Daddy, you're so sweet. Whatever you say." Victoria was beginning to get into it.
Donald Stine was distracted. He couldn't take his eyes off her chest. She had to admit the little black stretch dress was providing good energy.
"I could call around, see what's in our other stores. We have reciprocity with the other shops here in Atlantic City. And I'll check the Jewelry Mart."
"Ya got me all spread out like a cold supper here, Donnie. Them tables is a-calling and I'm ready to go. ... Let's do the deal, that's the Texas way."
"If you would have a seat, I could see what I can get in the next ten or twenty minutes."
"Well, hell, let's give 'er a shake, then."
Stine hurried off and Beano and Victoria moved around the shop, looking at the trashy jewelry in the glass cases while the assistant, Matt, trailed them like a bloodhound. After a few minutes, Stine returned, wearing a greedy smile.
"We're in luck. As you probably know, pearls are measured in millimeters."
"Nope, never bought one before."
"We found a twenty-two-millimeter, perfectly round, opaque black pearl. It's got a beautiful dusky black luster and it's only forty-seven thousand retail, plus tax."
"Well, let's get that little pigeon egg on over an' take us a look-see."
"In the interest of time, could we clear credit now? How will we be handling the transaction? That is, should the pearl meet your specifications," Stine said. Beano wished he'd stop wringing his hands.
"Got me a checking account right here in the hotel," Beano said proudly.
While Beano and Donald Stine went to the casino front desk to arrange the transfer, Victoria went to the ladies' room, which was just outside the store off the casino main floor. A frightening thing happened as she was leaving the restroom. She ran smack into Tommy Rina. They actually collided.
"Watch where the fuck you goin'," Tommy growled.
"'Scuse me," she said and hurried off. ... She could feel his eyes on her, as she moved off across the casino. ... She didn't dare turn to see if he had recognized her. She walked across the casino toward the front door, her unbridled excitement suddenly transformed into bile-soaked fear. When she was sure he couldn't see her, she finally doubled back to the store. She prayed Tommy wouldn't come in. Beano was already back there with Donald Stine, so she had no chance to warn him.
The pearl showed up a quarter hour later, and Beano looked it over carefully. He had more than passing experience evaluating jewelry, having spent two years as a jewel thief in Nevada in the late eighties. He gave it up when he almost got shot by a night watchman. He knew natural pearls were never perfectly round. Value was determined by size, shape, color, and opaque luster. He knew a pearl this size would be one of a kind. He guessed that the pearl they were showing him was worth about thirty-five to forty thousand. He was being gouged slightly, but it didn't matter.
"Mighty pretty," he said, looking down through the jeweler's loupe, "this thing's black as truck stop coffee." Then he handed it to Victoria. "Whatta ya think, June Bug?"
"Oh, Daddy, it's so pretty. I simply adore it," she said, her eyes darting out the front windows searching for Tommy Rina.
"Can we make it up into a necklace?" Stine asked, trying to improve on his good fortune. "Perhaps a nice platinum chain with a three-prong setting?"
"Let's see how lucky ol' Justice is gonna get 'fore we get ta buyin' a mess a platinum rope. We got more'n one category we're workin' on, don't we, Sugar?"
"Whatever you say, Daddy." She almost lost her balance and hugged his arm.
The deal was closed quickly. The fifty thousand dollars was immediately transferred to Rings 'n' Things.
Beano and Victoria walked out of the jewelry store, through the casino, and into the sunlight, with the black pearl in an ugly purple box with green felt. She didn't see Tommy Rina anywhere. The Atlantic Ocean was sparkling just beyond the Boardwalk. As they moved out into the late-afternoon chill she started shivering and Beano took off his Western jacket and draped it over her. "That guy gouged us a little; it's only worth forty grand, at most," Beano said, as he spotted John across the street, behind the wheel of her car.
"Then why'd we pay fifty?" she said, confused, as she hugged the coat around her.
"We're increasing by diminishing, holding on by letting go. Didn't I tell you?" Seeing her look, he smiled. "Don't worry. Trust me. This is our lucky day," and then he proved it as they walked across the street and were just missed by a speeding cab. Once they were in the car and pulling away, she told him about running into Tommy.
"Did he recognize you?" Beano asked.
"I don't know. In this outfit, probably not."
Beano was quiet for a long time, then he turned to her and smiled. "Then we'll play it like it never happened. Kinda ups the ante, and puts a little kerosene in the deal," he finally said, and hoped they stayed lucky.
They had dinner at a crab house on the garden pier. It jutted two hundred yards out into the Atlantic. The seven-thirty sunset tinged the slate-gray sky and the ocean whitecaps with a subtle but beautiful flamingo-pink. Beano stopped his conversation for a minute to watch it, something that surprised Victoria. She never stopped to look at a field of flowers or a pink and orange sunset. Her mother had once criticized her for this, saying that these were God's gifts and should not be ignored. Victoria saw beauty in other places: in a carefully prepared brief, in a goal attained, in a job well done. She saw beauty in the precise organization of her own thoughts. She now looked at Beano, who had fallen silent, watching the changing colors of the sunset. He was like a child fascinated by a wonderful new gift. She wondered if her mother would approve of him or be appalled. She couldn't decide.
They had a table by the window and the salt air blew through the open front door. Victoria had changed out of her "fuck me" outfit and was back into her jeans and pea-coat, something her personality could fit into more easily. The pearl was locked in the safe under the sofa in the motor home, and Roger-the-Dodger had been assigned to stand guard while they went out and ordered New England clams. Beano had also ordered a steak and a Bud Light to go for the dog.
Victoria could tell that John and Beano were still holding back with her. But that night she was strangely elated. She would never have imagined that playing a dumb hooker would be so much fun. It was actually liberating, and her encounter with Tommy really did "put a little kerosene in the deal." She remembered the hours her mother had spent trying to get her to loosen up. Yet this con man with the dazzling smile had somehow accomplished it in one afternoon. For the first time she understood the exhilarating thrill of the unreasonable risk.
"This thing with the pearl," she said, "I still don't know how it works. How are we gonna get a hundred and fifty thousand dollars? We paid fifty; you said the pearl we bought is only worth forty. I know we're increasing by diminishing, but I don't get it. So far we're losing money, not making it."
"We're multiplying by dividing, so it doesn't matter what it's really worth," Beano said. "Tomorrow, first thing, I'm gonna go into that same store and try and buy another one just like it. We're gonna offer to pay as much as it takes."
"But we don't have any seed money left," she reminded him.
"Ouch ... there's a showstopper"--he grinned--"I never thought of that."
"Stop fucking around with me, Beano," she said. "I'm not used to being played like a mark. If I'm in on this, I wanna know what I'm doing. I'm sure we're breaking half-a-dozen laws here."
"We might have to break a few before this con is over, but not on this pearl gag. We're not doing anything illegal. Least not yet," Beano said.
"Don't forget, I've read your yellow sheet. You're no choirboy."
"That's true," Paper Collar John said, straightfaced. "Once, when he was ten, in Bend River, Arkansas, I was doing a faith healer con. I was the Reverend Yancy L. Anthony of the Church of Christ Manors. I let Beano sing in the choir. He's got a terrible voice ... chased
most of the faithful right out of the tent. Hadda make him into 'Little Lord Angel' ... youngest faith healer in the Southwest ... Even at ten, you was damn good, Beano. You should a heard him preach. He could talk the money right out of a banker's pocket." Beano reddened slightly at the compliment. Finally, in a courtly gesture, he bowed his head to acknowledge his talent.
"Come on," Victoria pushed, "I want to hear it. Just start with the pearl. How are we going to turn a ten-thousand-dollar loss into a hundred-thousand-dollar profit?"
So Beano filled her in. When he was finished, she looked at him, her mouth slightly open. It was close to brilliant, and he was right ... she couldn't find one single law that they would be breaking.
"Increase by diminishing," she said, slowly. "Hold on by letting go, multiply by dividing. It's really true, isn't it?"
"If you do it right," Paper Collar John said.
Then they started talking about members of the Bates family, evaluating traits and skills, eliminating and accepting candidates. It was, in her opinion, a very colorful voir dire. Besides Fit-Throwing Duffy Bates and Dakota Bates, there were the Hog Creek Bateses, whom they didn't talk about much, but who seemed to be important if there was ever any trouble. There were also "singers" to give background information to Tommy Rina when he was checking Beano out, and inside men who, she learned, were the stars of the con. Beano and John were inside men. There were outside men who roped the mark, then steered or stalled him. They were assigned to control his movement. There were "shills" and "luggers," who she found out, to her dismay, were basically extras. She was determined to somehow upgrade her category. John and Beano discussed each candidate thoroughly before putting his or her name on the list. They divided up half-a-dozen names and agreed to start calling them first thing in the morning.
Victoria Hart sat there, eating cooked crab and wondering if this was going to be the worst situation she'd gotten into in her life ... or the best.
King Con (1997) Page 11
