why not Darla, here? You want somebody to nail him? She seems more than competent.” And that way the FBI can worry about Mafia dons. He smiled cheerfully at the female agent, trying to beam confident support.
Darla gave him a thin-lipped sneer. Funny how great legs and big breasts just didn’t compensate for a bad attitude.
“We tried that,” Lee Gauger said from his stance in the corner. “Darla. Last week. Big Julie made her. Last night you, on the other hand, were clueless.”
“He just looked down my dress all night,” Darla agreed.
“You made it so easy to do,” Tanner said. “But you notice I passed on the merchandise.”
“The point,” Frelly said as Darla opened her mouth in outrage, “is that Darla can’t work Big Julie. He knows she’s FBI.”
Tanner shook his head. “Say what you will, the Mafia is smart. Smarter, evidently, than Darla. Not to mention, the rest of you.”
“So what we’re gonna do,” Frelly broke in, “is this.”
Everyone looked at him expectantly.
Frelly leaned forward and jabbed his finger at Tanner.
Committed to plan of action, Tanner thought.
“You are gonna play cards with Big Julie,” Frelly said. “He is gonna win big. You will tape him. Then we got him.”
“Yeah, not so much,” Tanner said. “Even if he cheats, it’s not a federal crime to cheat in a card game. You play anywhere—private game, card room, casino—and somebody cheats, management just throws him out and bars him from coming back. No arrests. No prison time.”
“We’re not talking about him cheating,” Gauger said. “We’re talking about you cheating—if you have to, to get Big Julie to win. The goal is to get him to win big. However it has to happen.”
“Because?” Tanner asked. “I’m not following.”
Frelly grinned in triumph. “Because if Big Julie plays regularly, which we know he does, he’s operating a gambling establishment without a license.”
“Class B felony,” Darla said.
“Which the casino hates, not that they’re saying,” Frelly said.
Gauger nodded again. “Then, if you’re operating a gambling establishment with earnings over a couple grand—”
“Which Big Julie is,” Frelly said. “He’s playing in the range of one-two hundred G’s. So at your licensed gambling establishment, if you win big, you gotta report the winnings to the IRS right up front and withhold the taxes on it. Which Big Julie ain’t doing. So now he’s looking at two felonies. Minimum.”
Tanner looked pained. “That old dodge? You’re going to get him on income tax evasion? Come on, Frelly. That is so Al Capone. I expected better from you.”
“Yeah, well, it still works, smartass. We got him for those two felonies for sure, and he’s probably laundering money with the chips, too, if he uses chips. He use chips?” Frelly asked Tanner.
Tanner shrugged. “How would I know? Don’t you know that?” Tanner would be surprised, though, if Big Julie didn’t launder money by using chips. Many people who acquired large sums of money in legally questionable ways went to the casino and bought chips with the dirty money, and then later cashed in the chips, asking for a check or wire transfer. After the money was washed through the casino’s accounts, it was perfectly clean and legal.
“So we probably got him on money laundering, too,” Frelly said. He leaned forward again, stabbing the air as he spoke. “If I get this guy, Wingate, I can look forward to a big retirement bonus, maybe a reward, even a plaque. I want this guy. And you’re gonna get him for me.”
“On income tax evasion,” Tanner said. “You think that will work?”
Frelly nodded. “You know how much federal income tax Big Julie paid last year? We got his ten-forty from the IRS. One hundred six measly bucks. One-oh-six, total. That’s what he paid. He probably earned millions.”
“Man, that’s incredible,” Jack said. “Who’s his accountant?”
“Two smartasses,” Frelly said, leaning back. “I should arrest you both for being a pain in the behind.”
“Tell him the deal,” Gauger said.
“Please,” Jack Sievers said.
“The deal is that your client snitches for us. On Big Julie,” Frelly said.
“For how long?” Jack asked, at the same time that Tanner said, “No deal.”
“No deal,” Tanner repeated. He turned to the lawyer. “Can’t do it, Jack. If I turned on Big Julie, the Mob would kill me.” He turned and smiled winningly at Frelly. “And if I’m dead, I can’t fulfill the terms of my probation.”
Frelly shrugged. “Wouldn’t happen. You might be doing the Mob a favor if you did help put Big Julie behind bars. The way I hear it, Big Julie’s out here