City of Lost Causes

Every cause needs a champion... and funding... Warren hopes to find both in Vegas. Part I of a short story.

The detective came in, and before he even closed the door to the interview room he said, “So Warren, tell me how you did it.”

Warren saw that the man’s eyes were full of wonder and interest, yet calculating.  He was also a young guy, at least by Warren’s standards; who, in just a few short years, would be “dreadfully” categorized as a senior citizen.  As it was, for a detective, Warren was expecting him to be a little bit older.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Warren wasn’t sure if the man really even was a detective.  He’d seen those shows on the Travel Channel; the ones that told you casinos always try to bring people they suspect of cheating into an isolation room just like this, and then coerce them into admitting it.  They do it, because even with all those cameras they still have no evidence when the system is good enough.  And Warren’s was plenty good, or at least that’s what he thought…

     “Did what?” said Warren.

     So, maybe the guy was just a casino strong man.  Or maybe he was Gambling Commission.  Whoever he was didn’t matter, Warren considered himself untouchable.

     The man reached slowly into his left side suit pocket.  Watching him, Warren wondered if it was an expensive suit, and if it was, whether that information should help tell him who the guy was.  Its metallic blue sheen slipped seamlessly into what one expected from the Las Vegas landscape, and yet somehow, seemed too slick for a mere detective, even here.

                Out of the pocket came a handful of yellow chips.  Each one of them good for a thousand dollars, Warren knew, because he had lots of them safely locked away in his room safe.  He watched as another handful came out, followed by another.  Then the man reached into his right side suit pocket and began pulling out even more chips.  When he was done, a huge chaotic pile sat on the table.

“May I?” the man asked.

     “It’s your show,” Warren said flatly, trying and failing to hold the man’s gaze.

     The Investigator, as Warren now thought of him, smiled.  Then, with a sharp snap of his sleeves and a swift flexing of his fingers, he quickly and deftly began organizing the chips into stacks, arranging them into neat little rows of five.  Finished, the Investigator glanced at Warren briefly, and then began counting off the stacks, “Five thousand, ten thousand, fifteen thousand…” Then row by row, “Twenty-five thousand, fifty thousand, seventy-five thousand…” All the way to one hundred eighty five thousand, and the man’s emphasis on “fives” was not lost on Warren.

     The last stack was an assortment of colors, and the man spread them across the table- First were two more yellows, “One hundred eighty seven thousand.”  Followed by; one purple, two blacks, three greens and a red.  “Seven hundred eighty…” Then a red and two whites; “Seven,” the man finished.

     The Investigator slowly looked over all the chips and then back to Warren.

     Warren shifted in his seat for the first time and remarked casually, “That’s a lot of chips.”

     “Yeah, yeah,” the Investigator nodded.  “It’s a lot of chips,” he echoed, looking over the stacks arranged between them one more time.  Then his eyes snapped up and snared Warren so unexpectedly that the older man caught his breath.  “You know what else?”

     The man’s eyes had Warren pinned, and as the seconds ticked by he could feel his face turning red with the effort of holding his breath.  When he finally responded, Warren’s voice was little, “What?”

     “It’s a s**t load of money!”

The Investigator laughed and sat back with a thump. 

Warren exhaled.  Who the hell was this guy?  Was he toying with him?  Jesus!  Warren had a Ph.D., two of them!  He didn’t have to put up with these scare tactics!

     Warren felt a new strength building inside.  No way was he going to let some over blown security chief, retired flatfoot, casino strong arm push him around!  Not when he was so close.  And if he was a cop, or a fed, then Warren was ready to match wits with him too.

     “You know what I find interesting?” Warren brought his new strength to bear.

“What’s that?” the Investigator locked his fingers behind his head and repositioned himself in his chair. 

Warren noted, as the man moved, that the name Calvin Klein could be seen quite clearly, stitched over the inside jacket pocket, and harrumphed silently.  Of course, Warren himself didn’t own a Calvin Klein suit, but he could certainly afford one if he wanted too.  Professors, and other men of his ilk, men of science, didn’t bother with such trifles.  On the other hand, in hindsight, it may have been wiser to invest in some high-end clothing to play the part of a high roller, rather than someone who just got lucky.

     “What do you find so interesting Warren?”

“Well, if my memory serves, and it usually does being that I have two doctorates in engineering, I think that’s a lot more than I had when I was so rudely interrupted at the roulette table.”

     “Two doctorates in engineering eh Warren?”

     “Indeed.”

     “Well then, I wonder if you and those two doctorates of yours would be good enough to tell us how much you’ve actually won since walking into the Atlantis Hotel and Casino on Tuesday?”

     “That was four days ago,” Warren shrugged.  “I’ve won and lost quite a bit of money since then.”

“Actually Warren, no- You’ve won quite a bit, and only lost a little.  With the $7,870 you were coloring out with at the roulette table just now, that brings your total to- Oh,” The Investigator looked over the chips on the table, “I’d say, some 187,787 dollars.”  There was a slight pause before the Investigator continued.  “Coincidentally, that’s a lot of ‘7s’ and ‘8s’.”

“Have you been to my room then?  Did you burglarize my safe?”

“Yes I’ve been to your room Warren, but no, I didn’t go there to burglarize your safe.  All your chips are still securely locked away.”

“Then why?”

“Because I want to know how you’re doing this Warren.  And I will find out, one way or another.”

“I really have to say, I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister?”

The Investigator smiled, and it froze there until Warren shifted again in his seat.  Then the Investigator’s hand went slowly to the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled something out.

     “Let me tell you what I find so interesting Warren.”

     And when the Investigator opened his hand Warren felt his heart stop.  For in the Investigator’s palm was the pith of Warren’s entire plan- a red, five-dollar casino chip...