Memories of Midnight

"I don’t expect you to," Rizzoli said earnestly. "I like you. I like your company. By the way, there’s a little poker game in one of the hotels tonight. I’m going to play. Are you interested?"

"Thanks. I’d love to, but…" He shrugged. "I don’t think I’d better."

"Come on. If it’s money that’s bothering you, don’t worry about it. I’ll stake you."

Korontzis shook his head. "You have been too kind already. If I lost, I couldn’t pay you back."

Tony Rizzoli grinned. "Who said you’re going to lose? It’s a setup."

"A setup? I…I don’t understand."

Rizzoli said quietly, "A friend of mine named Otto Dalton is running the game. There are some big-money American tourists in town who love to gamble, and Otto and I are going to take them."

Korontzis was looking at him, wide-eyed. "Take them? You mean, you’re…you’re going to cheat?" Korontzis licked his lips. "I…I’ve never done anything like that."

Rizzoli nodded sympathetically. "I understand. If it bothers you, you shouldn’t do it. I just thought it would be an easy way for you to pick up two or three thousand dollars."

Korontzis’s eyes went wide. "Two or three thousand dollars?"

"Oh, yes. At least."

Korontzis licked his lips again. "I…I…Isn’t it dangerous?"

Tony Rizzoli laughed. "If it were dangerous, I wouldn’t be doing it, would I? It’s a piece of cake. Otto’s a mechanic…a dealer. He can deal a deck from the top, the bottom, or the middle. He’s been doing it for years and he’s never been caught."

Korontzis sat there, staring at Rizzoli.

"How…how much would I need, to get in the game?"

"About five hundred dollars. But I’ll tell you what. This thing is such a cinch that I’ll loan you the five hundred, and if you lose it you don’t even have to pay it back."

"That’s certainly very generous of you, Tony. Why…why are you doing this for me?"

"I’ll tell you why." Tony’s voice filled with indignation. "When I see a decent, hard-working man like you, with a responsible position like being curator of one of the greatest museums in the world, and the state doesn’t appreciate you enough to give you a decent salary – and you’re struggling to feed your family – well, to tell you the truth, Victor, it burns me up. How long since you’ve gotten a raise?"

"They…they don’t give raises."

"Well, there you are. Listen. You have a choice, Victor. You can let me do you a little favor tonight, so you can pick up a few thousand dollars and start living like you should, or you go on living hand-to-mouth for the rest of your life."

"I…I don’t know, Tony. I shouldn’t…"

Tony Rizzoli rose. "I understand. I’ll probably be coming back to Athens in a year or two, and maybe we can get together again. It was a pleasure knowing you, Victor." Rizzoli started for the door.

Korontzis made his decision. "Wait. I…I would like to go with you tonight."

He had taken the bait. "Hey, that’s great," Tony Rizzoli said. "It really makes me feel good to be able to help you out."

Korontzis hesitated. "Forgive me, but I want to be sure I understood you correctly. You said that if I lose the five hundred dollars, I will not have to pay you back?"

"That’s right," Rizzoli said. "Because you can’t lose. The game is fixed."

"Where is the game going to be?"

"Room four-twenty at the Metropole Hotel. Ten o’clock. Tell your wife you’re working late."

Chapter Twelve

There were four men in the hotel room besides Tony Rizzoli and Victor Korontzis.

"I want you to meet my friend Otto Dalton," Rizzoli said. "Victor Korontzis."

The two men shook hands.

Rizzoli looked at the others quizically. "I don’t believe I’ve met these other gentlemen."

Otto Dalton made the introductions.

"Perry Breslauer from Detroit…Marvin Seymour from Houston…Sal Prizzi from New York."

Victor Korontzis nodded to the men, not trusting his voice.

Otto Dalton was in his sixties, thin, gray-haired, affable. Perry Breslauer was younger, but his face was drawn and pinched. Marvin Seymour was a thin, mild-looking man. Sal Prizzi was a huge man, built like an oak tree, with powerful limbs for arms. He had small, mean eyes, and his face had been badly scarred with a knife.

Rizzoli had briefed Korontzis before the game. These guys have a lot of money. They can afford to lose big. Seymour owns an insurance company, Breslauer has auto dealerships all over the United States, and Sal Prizzi is head of a big union in New York.

Otto Dalton was speaking. "All right, gentlemen. Shall we get started? The white chips are five dollars, the blue are ten, the red are twenty-five, and the black ones are fifty. Let’s see the color of your money."

Korontzis pulled out the five hundred dollars that Tony Rizzoli had loaned him. No, he thought, not loaned, given. He looked over at Rizzoli and smiled. What a wonderful friend Rizzoli is.

The other men were taking out large bank rolls.

Korontzis felt a sudden sense of concern. What if something went wrong, and he lost the five hundred dollars? He shrugged it off. His friend Tony would take care of it. But if he won. Korontzis was filled with a sudden feeling of euphoria.

The game began.

It was dealer’s choice. The stakes were small at first, and there were games of five-card stud, seven-card stud, draw poker, and high-low.

In the beginning the wins and losses were spread evenly, but slowly the tide began to turn.

It seemed that Victor Korontzis and Tony Rizzoli could do no wrong. If they had fair cards, the others had worse cards. If the others had good hands, Korontzis and Rizzoli had better hands.