Explosive Eighteen (Stephanie Plum 18)

“First off, I gotta play some slots,” Lula said, taking it all in.

“We’re working,” I told her. “And you always lose all your money when you play slots.”

“Yeah, but I feel lucky today.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s on account of I’m a positive person. My glass is half full. You’re one of them half-empty-glass people.”

“Knock yourself out,” I said. “I’ll call you if I need you.”

This was my first time in this particular casino. It was located at the far end of the boardwalk, and it offered no good reason why anyone should walk the distance. I wandered around, getting the lay of the land, paying attention to security. Like every other casino, this one had uniformed guards and plainclothes guys who stoo

d flat-footed, eyes glazed over from tedium. An earbud plugged them into some central command, and the promise of a stiff drink at the end of their shift kept them from shooting themselves in desperation.

I picked out a suit who looked like he’d rather be cleaning kennel cages than standing his shift, and I moved into his field of vision.

“Hey,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“Slow.”

“Yeah, not a lot of people here. I guess it picks up on weekends. I haven’t been here in a while. Lately, I’ve been going to the other end of the boardwalk.”

“You and everyone else.”

“I used to talk to one of the security people here. He was real nice, but I don’t see him here tonight. His name is Mortimer Lancelot.”

“Morty,” the guy said. “He doesn’t work here anymore. Budget cuts.”

“Bummer. What’s he doing now? Is he at one of the other casinos?”

“No. None of the casinos are hiring. He went outside. I heard a rumor he got a job as a night watchman for one of the vendors. Real crap job. He was a senior guy here, too.”

Progress!

“So who hired him? What’s he guarding? Slot machines? Liquor? Vending machines?”

“I don’t know. Are you interested in Morty?”

“Just making conversation.”

“I get off in a couple hours. We could make conversation then if you want.”

“Sure. That would be great. I’ll be around.”

I crossed to the other side of the casino and climbed onto a barstool. There were two guys working behind the bar. One was keeping the cocktail waitresses supplied, and the other was servicing the bar customers. At the moment, there weren’t a lot of bar customers. Mostly me. I ordered a Cosmo and smiled when it was delivered.

“Not a lot going on,” I said to the bartender.

He studied me for a minute. “You were looking for action?”

“No. I was looking for an old friend. I used to work with this guy years ago, and someone told me he worked here now, but I don’t see him. Morty Lancelot.”

“You’re about six months late. Morty and a bunch of others got caught in a budget crunch, and it was adios.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, they got rid of everyone at the top of the pay scale. I’m still here because I work for peanuts. Literally.”