“I can feel a big payday coming up,” Grandma said. “I was just getting warmed up before.”
We got Grandma settled in, and Connie nudged me.
“Look across the aisle at the blackjack table closest to us,” Connie said. “I think that’s Billy Major in the striped shirt.”
Billy Major has a stable of hookers who work the projects. To my knowledge, he’s never been arrested for procuring. However, he has been arrested several times for possession of controlled substances, and the latest charge was outstanding. Billy Major was on my list of active skips. Major failed to appear for his court appearance, and until this moment, I hadn’t been able to locate him. Probably because I was looking in Trenton, and he obviously was in Atlantic City.
I had a credit card and twenty dollars in my back pocket.
My purse with all my bounty hunter paraphernalia was upstairs in Grandma’s room. “I haven’t got any equipment on me,” I said to Connie.
Connie’s purse was on her shoulder. She rooted around in it and came up with cuffs and a stun gun and a semiautomatic Smith & Wesson.45. I took the cuffs and stun gun and left her with the Smith & Wesson. Connie was a lot tougher than I was, but capturing felons was on my side of the division of labor.
I wedged the duffel bag with the remaining money between Grandma’s stool and the poker machine. “I’ll be right back,” I told her. “In the meantime, keep your eye on the money.”
I crossed the aisle and stood behind Major for a couple minutes, watching him play. I had the cuffs tucked into the back pocket of my jeans and the stun gun in my sweatshirt pocket. The dealer shuffled the cards, and I leaned over Major.
“Excuse me,” I said, close to his ear. “Billy Major?”
“Yeah.”
He turned and looked at me, and recognition registered. This wasn’t the first time I’d apprehended him.
“Oh shit,” Major said.
I clapped a cuff on him, and he yelped and jumped, knocking into the gaming table, sending chips flying. Everyone stood, the dealer called for security, overturned drinks dripped onto the carpet.
I struggled to get the second cuff on Major. “Bond enforcement. Hold still!”
“Fuck this,” Major said, ripping the cuffs out of my hands, taking off for the exit on the far side of the room.
He had a head start, but he was hampered by high-?heeled boots and forty pounds of gold chains hanging around his neck. He was plowing into people, but I was trying to be careful, dodging cocktail waitresses and casino guests. He crashed into an old woman with a walker and stumbled, and I took a flying leap and tackled him. My momentum took us to the ground.
I’ve never had formal martial arts training. Mostly, I rely on the fact that men tend to underestimate my desperation. I curled my fingers into Major’s shirt, knowing casino security would help secure him if I could just hang on until they arrived. We were tumbling around, and I caught a flash of gold in my peripheral vision and realized it was Lula.
“Outta my way,” Lula said.
I rolled off, and Lula sat down hard on Major. Major let out a woof of air, farted, and went inert.
An old man looked down at Major. “He’s dead.”
Lula got off Major, I attached the second cuff, and Major still didn’t move. We all took a closer look.
“I might have seen him breathe just then,” Lula said.
“I got a defibrillator on my Rascal,” someone said. “You want to try to jump-?start him?”
“I got oxygen,” someone else said.
Lula got her foot under Major and turned him over. His eyes were open. His lips were pressed tight together.
“Christ,” Major said through clenched teeth.
“He just got breathless,” Lula said. “I have that effect on men on account of I’m a supermodel.”
The security guys had arrived and were mixed in with the gawkers. The gawkers looked like they were enjoying themselves, but security didn’t look happy.
Connie pushed her way through the crowd, corralled the senior rent-?a-?cop, showed him her documentation, and vouched for me as her representative. The gawkers began to disperse, and two tables down, I could see Diesel smiling at me. I flipped him the bird, and the smile widened.