Red Alert(NYPD Red #5)(25)

“Maybe so,” a voice said, “but a hundred thousand bucks’ worth of small potatoes still adds up to a lot of fucking spuds.” It was Rick Button, the comic. He was sitting at the bar. “I came here figuring I’d lose a hundred grand tonight. I just didn’t expect to be cleaned out so fast. But those guys had guns, and I could tell they weren’t bluffing.”

“You want your money back, Rick?” Shelley said. “I’ll write you a check.”

“I don’t need your money. I could write this whole crazy poker game into my act and make a fortune.”

“You do that, and you’ll be dead before you can spend a dime,” Shelley said. “And my two friends here will have seven suspects.”

Kylie put a hand on Shelley’s arm. “I realize you guys have the ability to joke about this,” she said, “but there are two armed robbers walking around the city thinking they’re the baddest asses in town, and they’re not going to quit while they’re ahead. They’re going to do it again, and the next time, the outcome might not be something to laugh about. Are you sure you won’t reconsider reporting this to NYPD?”

“I can’t,” Shelley said. “Do you see the guy on the couch talking on the phone? His name is Eitan Ben David. Doctor Eitan Ben David, plastic surgeon to the rich and wrinkled. If you think these show business assholes would be embarrassed for this to get out, imagine how a respectable citizen like Eitan would feel. Look, you guys did your job. You ran right over, and you stopped the cops from making a federal case out of this.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Kylie said. “By the time Zach and I got here, Reitzfeld had it under control.”

“Then it’s over and done with.”

“Shelley, it’s not over and done with. Bob Reitzfeld is going to go after these guys, and he’s a damn good cop with a lot of resources at his disposal, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he caught them. Then what? You can farm out the police work, but once these felons are apprehended, they still have to be prosecuted through the city’s criminal justice system.”

“I know, but that can happen quietly. No hoopla, no newspapers, no other victims besides me, and no trial, because we’ll make it worth their while to cop a plea.”

“And maybe you’ll get your money back.”

“I don’t care about the money.”

“Then why bother?”

“First, to do what you want: get these bastards off the streets. And second, to do what Reitzfeld wants: get even with the two punks who snookered him.”

Kylie shrugged. “Two noble goals. Call if you need our help.”

“Thank you both for coming,” Shelley said. “One question before you go. Have you heard from Spence?”

Kylie shook her head. “Not a word. You?”

“Nothing.”

The door to the adjoining suite opened, and a man entered, carrying a plate of shrimp and a beer. He saw us talking to Shelley, put his food and drink on a table, threw his arms up in the air, and yelled, “Kylie!”

He headed straight toward her, took her in his arms, and kissed her. This was a far cry from the father-figure, happy-to-see-you kiss Shelley had given her. This was a full-on mouth kiss that could easily have escalated into something a lot more passionate if there hadn’t been eight other men in the room.

Quick-witted detective that I am, I immediately figured out two things.

One: I now knew what Kylie meant when she said “Don’t say anything.”

Two: I was about to meet Kylie’s new boyfriend.





CHAPTER 24



His name was C. J. Berringer. Kylie knew, of course, that he’d be at the poker game, which is why she offered to drop me off at home and spare me the tedium of an eight-hundred-thousand-dollar nonevent.

Failing that, she got me to promise not to say anything about anything, a promise I kept until she was forced to introduce me to C.J.

“I can’t believe I finally get to meet Kylie’s partner,” he said, pumping my arm and acting like he was as thrilled to see me as he was to see his girlfriend.

I sized him up: about my age, slightly taller, and annoyingly handsome. He was also a talker, and for the next ten minutes, which I could only hope were excruciating for Kylie, he bent my ear.

He was born in Hawaii to a native Hawaiian mother and a white father. He struggled through his freshman year in college because he spent more time playing cards than cracking books. And then he had an epiphany: who needs college? He dropped out and carved out a life for himself as a professional gambler.

He asked me if Kylie had told me how they met. Why no, she hadn’t. He was happy to fill me in.

“It was a few weeks after her husband…” He didn’t finish the sentence. I guess I was supposed to fill in the blank. Flew the coop? Took a hike? Dropped her like a hand grenade?

“Anyway,” he said, “she hopped a plane down to the Bahamas for a quick getaway. I was going down there for a blackjack tournament. We were on the same flight, but we didn’t meet until the baggage carousel. Then we split a cab to the Atlantis. I couldn’t believe it when she told me she was Five-O. I didn’t think cops could be that…I mean, look at her. Anyway, I lost fifty K, but it was the luckiest weekend of my life. After that…well…” He gave me another blank to fill in.