The Picasso Flop

by Vince Van Patten

  “That is some high-class piece of ass,” the detective said. “You sure you ain’t tappin’ that?”

  Jimmy looked at the man. “If I was, I’d tell you, Detective,” he said, “if only to rub it in.”

  “Yeah . . .” Devine said, “smart guy. What are you still doin’ here, Spain? We’re done with you.”

  “I’m waiting for Kat.”

  “Ah.” Devine’s eyes widened. “Maybe you like ’em young, huh? And scrawny? She’s a little too skinny for my taste, but I can see where—”

  “Don’t even go there, Devine,” Jimmy said heatedly.

  “Ooh,” Devine said. “Did I touch a nerve?”

  “Yeah, you did, and if you keep touching it, you might have to run me in for assaulting a cop.”

  Devine was older than Jimmy and out of shape. He tried sucking in his belly and drawing himself up to his full height, but he still fell four or five inches short.

  “Yeah, I’m shakin’,” he said.

  “Detective?” one of the cops called from down the hall.

  “Yeah?” Devine said without turning his head.

  “Your partner wants you.”

  “I’m comin’.” He pointed a stubby finger at Jimmy. “I’m gonna be watchin’ you, smart guy.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  Jimmy watched the portly detective walk back up the hall and mentally kicked himself. He knew it was only a matter of time before they ran his name through the system, but antagonizing Devine would only make it happen that much sooner.

  He turned and looked back down the hall in the direction Sabine Chevalier had gone. There was another question nagging at him. If they knew that she’d lied about him being her alibi, why had they let her walk?

  It was another fifteen minutes before Kat came out of one of the offices. She saw Jimmy and rushed to him.

  “Oh my God, dude,” she said, grabbing his lapel and hanging on. “Thank you so much for backin’ up my story. You’re the nuts.” He could feel that she was trembling. She kept her voice down.

  “Come on,” he told her, putting his arm around her, “let’s get out of here.”

  He hustled her back to the casino floor, where she said, “We have to get back in the game.”

  “That can wait a few minutes. They’re not blinding us off.” He pulled her to the side. “Talk to me, Kat. What’s going on? Why did you lie to the cops?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “They started asking me, like, where was I and what was my relationship with the dead guy. I panicked. I tried a bluff.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve never been questioned by the cops before.”

  “I thought these days all kids your age had dealt with the cops before.”

  “Well, not me,” she said, “and not about a murder. I was scared shitless!”

  “Scared enough to call your father?”

  “I hope I never get that scared,” she said, “but scared enough that I wished I smoked. So I ran a stone bluff and lied.”

  “Kat,” Jimmy said, “what the hell is going on? Was there anything between Tim Bennett and you?”

  “Eeeouw,” she said, making a face. “You saw what happened last night. The guy was a geek, Jimmy.”

  “Then why did they bring you in for questioning?” he asked her pointedly.

  “From the way it sounds, they think a woman killed him.”

  “The detective told me they had some evidence that a woman was in the room with him,” Jimmy said. “Not necessarily that a woman actually killed him.”

  “Well, they were treatin’ me like they thought I did it.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen, a lot of people saw that confrontation last night. We were getting pretty loud. I told him off.”

  “That’s a motive for him to kill you,” Jimmy said, “not the other way around.”

  “I know that,” she said. “That’s what I told them, but did they listen to me? No. They kept askin’ me, like, did I want to be in the posse? Geez, like, why would I? That’d be worse than going broke.”

  “Calm down, Kat. Take a deep breath.”

  She did as she was told.

  “Now, who told them?” Jimmy asked. “Maybe it’s somebody trying to divert their attention away from herself.”

  “They wouldn’t tell me who it was,” she complained. “They wouldn’t tell me anything, dude. But the good news is, I think they were questioning somebody else at the same time. I could hear voices through the wall from another office.”

  “I know,” Jimmy said. “I saw her. It was Sabine Chevalier.”

  “I hope she had an alibi.”

  “She didn’t,” Jimmy said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because she told them she was with me.”

  “What? But I told them—” She stopped short. “Was she with you?”

  “No. Neither one of you was,” he said, “but I backed your story and not hers. Which means I lied to the cops, so is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  “No,” she said. “I only lied because I was scared, and I figured you’d back me up because you know I didn’t kill him . . . don’t you?”

  “Of course I know that, Kat,” he said, “but in the future remember that it’s never a good idea to lie to the cops. And it’s definitely not a good idea to put me in a position to have to lie to them. Got it?”

  “I got it, I got it,” she said. “I just hope the opportunity never comes up again,” she added fervently.

  “So do I.”

  Jimmy was sorry he’d allowed Sabine Chevalier to walk past him without stopping her. He wanted to know why she lied about being with him. He also wanted to know why the cops let her go after they caught her in a lie. But the task at hand was still the tournament, so he and Kat went right back to it.

  Some of the other players at the table weren’t overjoyed to see him. The fortunes of some of them seemed to have changed in his absence. He decided to stop thinking about alibis and murder and see if he could get his momentum back.

  He couldn’t.

  The cards didn’t run his way the rest of the night. He managed to stay out of harm’s way and not lose a significant amount of chips, so that by the time the second day ended he was still ahead with about thirty-five thousand. That was less than the average of the ninety-nine players that were making it to day three.

  As the players prepared their chips to be packaged away for the night, he looked around to see if he could locate Sabine. He couldn’t find her, but he did see Kat coming toward him, and she didn’t look happy.

  “I blew it,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “After I got back to the table I just couldn’t concentrate. I lost more than half my chips. I’m down to twelve grand.”

  “At least you’re not out. You’re short stacked, but the blinds still aren’t that big. You have a chance to come back,” Jimmy said. “Just start fresh tomorrow.”

  “What if there is no tomorrow for me?” she asked. “What if those detectives decide I killed Bennett and they arrest me? Not only will I go to jail, I’ll be blinded off.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you didn’t kill him.”

  “You don’t think innocent people ever get arrested and go to jail for somethin’ they didn’t do? Keep bluffin’.”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “Believe me, I know that happens. It’s just not going to happen to you.”

  “What are you gonna do?” she asked. “Find the real killer?”

  “I’d probably have as good a chance of doing that as those two detectives,” he said. “I ever tell you my father was a cop?”

  “You mentioned it, dude,” she said. “You don’t talk about it much though.”

  “That’s because he was disappointed in me,” he said. “Most of the men in my family were cops. My father was a detective, and he was much better at it than these two guys—especi
ally Devine.”

  She shuddered and hugged her arms. “He’s creepy.”

  “Yeah, he is.” He put his arm around her. “Come on, I’ll buy you a nightcap.”

  “A nightcap?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You’re going right to bed. No casino hopping tonight.”

  “Dude, I don’t feel much like casino hopping.”

  They stopped in the Baccarat Bar, one of the Bellagio’s twenty-four-hour spots. Jimmy got them each a champagne cocktail.

  “What are we celebratin’?” she asked.

  “You made it through two days of this tournament, kid,” he said. “That’s an accomplishment.”

  “I owe it to you, Jimmy,” she said. “If it wasn’t for those detectives I’d be doin’ even better, but I guess you’re right. It is somethin’ to celebrate.”

  They sipped their drinks, and Jimmy looked around. At that moment he didn’t see anyone he recognized.

  “Kat, tell me about the posse.”

  “Those guys? Why?”

  “By tomorrow everyone is going to know that Bennett is dead. Was he their leader?”

  “I guess you could say so. He’s the one who got most of the attention.”

  “How did the other guys feel about that?”

  “I don’t know, Jimmy. I don’t know any of them.”

  “How about from TV?”

  “Like I said, Bennett got most of the attention,” she said. “The other guys are still tryin’.”

  “So maybe one of them wanted to get rid of him so he’d have a better shot at being number one.”

  “Dude, Bennett was far from number one, but I know what you mean. Maybe one of them was, like, jealous.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “What are you gonna do, Jimmy?” she asked. “Are you really gonna try to find the killer?”

  “I think maybe I’ll just ask some questions,” he said. “See what I can find out.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “For you. Naw. This is for me. I put a lot of time into getting you ready for this tournament. You think I want to see those cops mess it up?”

  “Right,” she said. “I’d give you a kiss, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I feel kinda funny.”

  “About what?”

  “When I told those detectives I was with you? I told ’em we were discussing the game, ya know? But I think they thought we were doin’ somethin’ else.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then scrunched up his face and said, “Eeeouw!”

  “I know!” she said.

  Jimmy was in his room, waiting for sleep to come to him when the stupid cell phone rang.

  “Jimmy, listen, I waited but you never called. I tried and tried to find out who leaked it to Paulie about our deal but—”

  “Harold, Harold, Harold, listen,” Jimmy said, finally getting the millionaire to quiet down, “there’s some other stuff going on here, so I need you to just chill for a while.” Great, now he was talking like Kat.

  “What do you mean? What’s going on? Is Kat okay?”

  “She’s fine, Harold,” Jimmy assured him. “Sailed through day two.”

  “Well, what’s this other stuff—”

  “I’ll be in touch, Harold,” Jimmy said, suddenly fatigued. “I made it through also, and I need to get some sleep.”

  “Jimmy—”

  Jimmy broke the connection, turned off the phone, and settled down on the bed.

  EIGHTEEN

  By morning almost everyone connected with the tournament knew that Tim Bennett had been murdered. After a sleepless night Jimmy had decided to talk to the other members of the posse before play started for the day. He was up and dressed by eight-thirty and getting ready to go downstairs for breakfast when there was a knock on his door. He expected the two detectives to be standing in the hall when he pulled the door open but instead saw his friend Mike Sexton.

  “Morning, Mike.”

  “Jimmy,” Sexton said. “May I come in for a minute?”

  “I was just going to get some breakfast. Do you want to join me?”

  “I think we should talk here.”

  “Okay, then,” Jimmy said. “Come on in.”

  He backed away from the door, allowed Sexton to slide past him, then closed it.

  “What’s on your mind, Mike?”

  “This murder,” Sexton said, “it’s bad. Bad for the Bellagio, bad for the WPT, bad for the tournament.”

  “Okay,” Jimmy said, “we’ve pretty much established that it’s bad. Why come to me?”

  Sexton looked around, trying to decide where to sit. Members of the tournament usually got a discount rate from the hotels where they played, but since Jimmy wasn’t footing his own bill he had upgraded to a suite.

  “This is pretty nice.”

  “Yeah, it is. What’s up, Mike?” Had they sent Sexton up to ask Jimmy to leave the tournament? And if so, why?

  Sexton finally decided to sit in the room’s easy chair. He settled into it heavily.

  “Jimmy, the WPT and hotel need somebody to look into this.”

  “And by ‘this’ you mean the murder? You’ve got the police for that.”

  “They want you.”

  “Me? Why me? I’m no detective. Why would they even think of me?”

  “Well . . .” Sexton said sheepishly, “um, they didn’t think of you. I did.”

  Jimmy pulled the chair out from the desk and sat in it, facing Sexton.

  “Why would you think of me for this, Mike?”

  “Well, for one thing you’ve got . . . experience that no one else has.”

  “I’ve been to prison,” Jimmy said. “If that’s experience that anybody you know wants, I’ll trade with him.”

  “No, not that,” Sexton said, “although I don’t think that’d hurt. But didn’t you tell me once your father was a cop in Philadelphia?”

  “He was,” Jimmy said. “In fact, he was a detective, but that’s not the sort of thing that’s hereditary, Mike. It takes training.”

  “All I’m sayin’—all I said to the director of the tournament and my boss—was that you have knowledge the average layman doesn’t.”

  “Then why don’t they hire a detective?”

  “They want this done discreetly,” Sexton said, “by someone who blends in. You blend in.”

  “I’ve been off the circuit a long time, Mike,” Jimmy said. “Most of these people don’t even know who I am.”

  “The pros do,” Sexton said. “A lot of them have heard of you; some of them know you. You’re here, you’re playin’”—Sexton spread his hands apart—“you blend in.”

  “That logic is faulty somewhere,” Jimmy said. “Give me a minute.”

  “All they want is someone who will ask questions, keep his ears and eyes open, somebody who’s not with the police.”

  “Okay,” Jimmy said. “Suppose I agree to do this. What’s in it for me?”

  “You can do it for the good of the tournament or the game,” Sexton said, “or we can work some kind of fee schedule. Or, better yet”—his eyes lit up as this obviously just occurred to him—“who says you couldn’t be in the final six of one of our WPT ‘Bad Boy’ episodes? You’d be perfect.”

  Spain wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult, but he knew one thing: it meant big money.

  And, Jimmy was already toying with the idea of doing some snooping around, and it wasn’t for the good of the game. It was to make sure Kat didn’t get jammed up for this. It was also to keep himself out of trouble, if he could. What would happen, though, if the cops found out he was nosing around?

  “Did you tell them that I did time?” Jimmy asked.

  Sexton hesitated, then said, “I told my boss, and that’s all. But I told him about your father, too.”

  Okay, word was going to get out that he’d been in prison. All he really needed to do was keep Kat from finding out about him and her dad. If she heard that he’d been i
nside, she didn’t necessarily have to know where.

  “Jimmy,” Sexton said, “I gotta tell you, you’re not the only guy in this tournament—or on the circuit—who’s done time. It’s not a big deal.”

  Jimmy thought awhile. This was certainly not the way he had expected to come back into the circuit, but could it hurt to have these men indebted to him?

  “All right.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Mike,” Jimmy said. “I can’t make any promises.”

  Sexton stood up.

  “They’d really like it if the killer turned out to be someone from Bennett’s private life,” he said, “and not the poker world. I mean, he pisses—he pissed—a lot of people off with his attitude.”

  “I can’t control who the killer will turn out to be,” Jimmy said. “And I still think the case will be solved by the cops.”

  “Whatever,” Sexton said, “as long as I can tell my boss you’re in.”

  “You can tell him exactly what I said,” Jimmy replied. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “I’ll tell him.” Sexton grabbed Jimmy’s hand. “I appreciate this, Jimmy.”

  “Tell me something, Mike,” Jimmy asked. “How much trouble would you have been in if I’d said no?”

  “I didn’t look before I leaped,” Sexton said. “I admit it. Before I knew it, I was sayin’ I knew somebody who could help. How much trouble would I be in? I really don’t know. I’m just glad you said yes—uh, you said that you’d do what you can.”

  “Right.”

  “You sure you didn’t kill that guy on purpose? That would guarantee you the ‘Bad Boy’ show,” Sexton kidded.

  “No.”

  “Well, you’re still gettin’ mah vote.”

  Jimmy opened the door for Sexton and ushered him out. Then he went to the phone to call Kat and have her meet him in Palio for breakfast.

  “You told them you’d do what?” she asked. “You’re not a detective, dude.”

  “I know it,” Jimmy said. “That’s what I told Mike. But I was going to talk to the other posse members anyway. I need you to give me their names right now.”