The Night People (30 page)

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Authors: Edward D. Hoch

BOOK: The Night People

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“Lots of people don’t like Billy,” Crocker said, and realized suddenly that Big Holston was one of them.

Holston had wanted the snake to kill Ives. Crocker should have guessed it from the beginning.

“Crocker!”

Steve turned and saw that George Qually had followed him into the back room. “What’s up?”

Qually gestured toward Amy. “Can she leave us for a minute? I’ve got business.”

“Go on, Amy,” Crocker said.

She retreated with reluctance, and he wondered if she’d be listening at the door. “Something’s come up,” Qually said.

“With the Arabs? I saw you talking to them just now.”

Qually shifted uneasily. “They’re high rollers, Crocker. They’re in town for a week and money’s burning holes in their pockets.”

“So?”

“They want more action. They didn’t understand there was just the one chance to bet.”

“Tell ’em to come back next Monday.”

“They’ll be gone by then.”

Crocker shrugged. “Then they’ll have to settle for roulette and blackjack.”

“They want to bet on this again.”

Crocker studied the man’s face. “What are you trying to say, George?”

“They want another game tonight. I told them we couldn’t do it for less than a hundred grand in bets. They said fine.”

“Oh, did they?”

“That’s five thousand more for each of us.”

“No dice. Once a week is all I do.”

“Five grand for a few minutes’ work!”

“No.” Steve started to walk away.

“Crocker, think about it! We can’t go on doing this forever. Sooner or later something will get in the papers and the Gaming Commission will shut us down. We’ve got to make the money while we can!”

“Once a week is enough for me.”

Qually stared at him. “Damn it, Crocker, if you won’t do it, I will!”

“Don’t be a fool.”

“You said yourself it’s just luck.”

Steve was annoyed with the man, and annoyed with himself when he realized he didn’t want anyone else doing the stunt. He was the Rattlesnake Man, not Qually.

“All right. I’ll do it.”

“Now?”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

Qually squeezed his shoulder. “There’ll never be another one like you, Crocker.”

“Sure there will. They come in on every plane.”

Steve went outside and found Amy Brand waiting in the hall. “Are we leaving now?” she asked.

“Not yet. The Arabs want another show.”

“You’re going to do it
again
?”

“It looks that way.”

“Have you ever done it twice in one night?”

“No.”

“I guess I’m going to get a bigger story than I bargained for.”

He looked at her. “I hope not. Longer maybe, but not bigger.”

“Are you afraid?”

“I’ve never been afraid of the snakes, only of the people who try to use them.” People like Holston, he thought, but he didn’t say it.

Qually was back suddenly, looking alarmed. “We got a problem.”

“What now?”

“They want two snakes in the barrels.”

“What?”

“You heard me. They want it to be an even-money bet or they won’t play.”

“That’s out,” Crocker said, feeling his stomach begin to knot. “I won’t do it.”

“I told them that.”

“Good.” Crocker started to walk away.

“Listen—”

“What?”

“If you go for two snakes, even money, they’ll bet a hundred and fifty.”

“Bet it with who?”

“I’ll cover part of it and Billy Ives will take the rest.”

“You’re crazy!”

“I’m betting your luck, Crocker.”

“You’re still crazy, I won’t do it.”

“That’s seventy-five hundred for you.”

“Yeah, and a rattlesnake’s fangs in my arm.”

“You’ve been bitten before. And never for money like this.”

“Get lost!” Crocker said and walked away.

Amy ran to catch up with him. “Why won’t you do it?”

“You want me to? It would make a real story, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t want you hurt, Crocker, and you can believe that or not. But why is it that much different from what you’ve been doing? You’re willing to gamble with three out of four drums empty, but not with two out of four empty.”

“Damned right!” he told her. “Nobody goes out looking for a rattlesnake bite!”

“But there’s
always
the chance of being bitten!”

He looked into her face and decided to tell her something he’d never told another person, not even Qually. “It’s a trick,” he said, keeping his voice low. “The odds are a lot better in my favor than three to one.”

“What? But how—”

“It’s an old psychological trick. Ask a person to pick a number between one and four, and most times they’ll choose three. It works the same with the barrels. Someone from the audience picks the numbered barrel the snake is placed in. I’ll bet over half the time they’ve picked the number three barrel. I just avoid that, and I also avoid number two, which is the second most popular.”

“But they must notice that you usually pick one or four.”

“Sure, sometimes they notice. But even if they put the snake there, I’ve got a fifty percent chance of beating them. And if they put it in one or four one week, I figure they’ll do the same the next week, if they’re regulars. So then I go back to picking two or three. Then they switch back to three the following week. Tonight was easy. When there are strangers as guests one of them is usually allowed to pick the barrel. And strangers almost always pick three.”

“That’s right,” she said. “One of the Arabs chose it.”

“But I don’t know how to figure it with two snakes in two different barrels. They might put them next to each other or separate them or anything. I don’t know how to figure it.”

She was standing very close, gazing up at his face. “Has all of your life been some sort of con, Crocker?”

“This is no con. I’m just outwitting them. There’s a difference.”

“Twice the snakes bit you.”

“Yeah. That proves I didn’t outwit them every time.”

They stepped further apart as Billy Ives came through the door. “What’s this Qually says? You won’t go for two snakes?”

“Do I look foolish?”

Ives shot a glance at Amy and then pulled Crocker aside out of earshot. “Look, Crocker, I want that wagering. The Arabs are my guests. Go through with it and I’ll tip you off about the barrels.”

“What?”

“I’ll signal you where the snakes are.”

“How?” Crocker asked.

Billy Ives smiled. “Simple! Figure my right elbow is one, my left elbow is two, my right knee is three, and my left knee is four. When you walk out there I’ll touch two of them to tell you where the snakes are.”

Crocker was dubious. “I don’t know.”

“Come on! Those Arabs don’t care if they win or lose as long as they get action. This way we keep them happy and you and Qually get your cut. It’s harmless fun.”

“You’re banking some of their bets, Billy. You’ll make money on it too.”

“Sure I will! But like I told you they don’t really care if they win or lose. The money they got, it don’t make any difference to them.”

Steve glanced over at Amy Brand, standing out of earshot. Suddenly the whole thing was important to him, maybe because she was there. “All right,” he said, “I’ll do. it. Tell Qually I’ll do it.”

There was a stirring out front as Billy Ives delivered his message. Qually hurried back to shake Crocker’s hand. “Stay here while we place the snakes and make the wagers. Maybe some of the casino people will bet too.” He paused for a moment. “Good luck, Crocker.”

“Thanks.”

Amy didn’t go out front. “I’ll stay back here with you,” she said.

“Don’t you want to see which barrels they choose?”

“I don’t think so.”

Qually came back again for the rattlesnakes and Crocker placed two of the biggest in canvas sacks. “These’ll make them think they’re getting their money’s worth.”

Then he waited.

Amy nervously lit a cigarette. He wondered if the tape recorder in her purse was turned on.

“Are you worried?” she asked.

“No.” He thought about Billy Ives and the signal he’d promised. That would be his salvation.

Then, all too soon, it was time. “Coming with me?” he asked.

“I’ll stay here. I saw it once.”

He strode out purposefully, his eyes seeking Billy Ives with the Arabs in the front row.

Ives smiled slightly and placed both hands on his knees.

Both knees. Three and four.

Crocker swallowed and stared at the paper lids with their bold black numbers. Qually had made up a new number one lid to replace the one he’d burst earlier. One would be safe again this time. He’d tell them he stuck with a winner.

He raised his bared arm above it and then hesitated.

The Arabs always bet on the snake.

But did they?

What if they’d switched to betting on him, and Ives was covering the action by betting on the snake? What if Ives stood to lose if he picked an empty barrel?

He whirled at the last second and plunged his arm through the paper lid numbered four.

The barrel was empty …

She was waiting when he came through the doorway. “I heard the cheers. You picked an empty barrel.”

“Yeah.”

“My God, Steve, you’re the luckiest man I know!”

“It wasn’t luck. It was all in knowing who your friends are. Come on—let’s get out of here.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for your money?”

“Qually’ll hold it for me.”

They went out the back door and were halfway to the car when Crocker heard Billy Ives call to him. “Crocker! Damn it, you cost me fifty grand!”

“How, Billy? By ignoring your signal and not getting bitten?”

“Hell, you’ve been bitten before. I didn’t think—”

A car cut across the parking lot then, targeting them with its headlights. Crocker dove for the ground, pulling Amy with him. There was a quick chatter of gunfire and Billy Ives spun around, falling across Crocker’s legs.

“What is it!” Amy screamed.

“Lie still,” he warned her, but the car sped away without firing again. Crocker eased Billy’s body off his legs and stood up. Qually and the others came running out.

“What happened?” Qually demanded.

“Someone gunned Billy down from a car. Get everyone out of here and then call the cops.”

“Is he dead?” Qually asked, staring at the body.

“Dead as he’ll ever be. I guess Holston decided he didn’t need a snake after all.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Go call the cops.”

Amy Brand steadied herself against the hood of a car. “I need a drink,” she said.

“There’s plenty back at my apartment. Come on.”

“Is every Monday night like this?”

“No. Sometimes the snake bites me.”

“How long do you think your luck will hold?”

He opened the car door for her. “I don’t know,” he said. “I hope at least till next Monday night.”

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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