home, and that’s what had drawn him to the vehicle when he’d seen it marked down for sale last summer. He had loaned it to Paper Collar John to live in because John and his wife, Cora Bates, had come on hard times after John’s bust for running a block hustle in the Hamptons last year. In an unfortunate act of piling on, Cora got sick right after John’s fifteen-month conviction. She had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was growing like river moss inside of her. John didn’t talk much about it, but there was a deep pain that never left his gray eyes. The cops had John’s number and were watching him pretty close. Beano had loaned his aunt and uncle the motor home so they could move around and steer clear of police scrutiny. Two weeks ago, Cora had been hospitalized and had gone into a coma. When Beano had called, John jumped at the chance to get back into action. … He needed money to pay Cora’s hospital bills. Beano figured if the con went off the way he planned, there’d be plenty to spread around after it was over.
Once they were parked next to the Winnebago, Beano reached over and honked the horn. The door to the motor home opened and Victoria watched as a tall, handsome, gray-haired man, about sixty-five, came down the steps. He had the sincere, confident look of a corporate executive, only he was dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt. Beano got out of the car and gave John a hug. Once Victoria was out, Beano introduced her.
“John, this is Victoria Hart. She’s gonna be a lugger on this hustle.” Victoria didn’t know what the hell a lugger was, and it sure didn’t sound too flattering, but she smiled and nodded anyway.
John shook her hand and looked at her carefully. “You’re the Prosecutor in Trenton, aren’t you? The one who was gonna put Carol on the stand?” His voice was deep and rich, but there was bitter accusation in it.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It went wrong. That’s why I’m here.”
John looked at her. His hooded eyes gave her nothing. Then he turned to Beano.
“Got a little problem with the motor home hook-up,” John said. “The mooch in the front office needs a cool-out. He wants a hundred dollars in advance. He was gonna throw me out when I didn’t have it. I told him you’d give it to him, but watch him, he’s no laydown.”
“I’ll go take care of it. Then we’re gonna go over to a jewelry store called Rings ‘n’ Things. Look it up in the phone book over there,” Beano said, pointing to a phone booth by some picnic tables. Then he grabbed a hundred dollars out of the pickle jar and went to the office to pay for their hook-up.
The first disagreement came that night at dinner. Beano, John, and Victoria had found the jewelry store, which was under the roof in Bally’s Casino. They drove to the hotel, which was a towering monument to bad taste and electricity. The porte cochere glimmered with twinkling lights. The casino was on the Boardwalk and faced the dark blue swells of the Atlantic. The jewelry store was inside, just off the casino. Big interior glass windows looked out on the gaming tables and contained rings and bracelets that were on display there. Victoria thought the jewelry was incredibly ugly … chunky, overdone pieces with too many chipped diamonds. They glittered classlessly and competed for attention with the spinning, ringing slots across from the store. In one window there were men’s pinkie rings that looked big enough to anchor a boat. Beano suggested they eat in the casino dining room, and they found a table near the back. The room was dark. Beano explained that casinos all over the world were designed with no clocks and no windows, so the players at the tables wouldn’t see any change in time or sunlight. Time stood still in a casino. The management didn’t want the losers looking at their watches. They sat in Bally’s Bicycle Room, named after the Bicycle cards all casinos used. The best bets on the menu were steak and beer.
“Okay, Victoria,” Beano said after the food arrived, “I need to know more about these guys.”
“Like what?”
“Any offshore stuff. Do the Rinas have interests in any banks, any savings and loans? Eventually, we gotta get to their big money.”
She looked at them for a long moment and