...Or Your Money Back | Page 4

turned the smile on Howley. "Congratulations, sir."
Howley smiled back and began stacking up over three hundred thousand dollars worth of plastic disks. It made quite a pile.
One of the deputies stepped up politely. "I'm an officer, sir," he said. "May I help you carry that to the cashier's office?"
Howley looked at the gold star and nodded. "Certainly. Thanks."
[Illustration]
The other two deputies stepped up, too, and the three of them walked Howley toward the cashier's office. Behind them came the five men in dinner jackets.
"You'll have to step into the office to cash that much, sir," said one of the deputies as he opened the door. Howley walked in as though he hadn't a care in the world. He put his chips on the desk, and the deputies followed suit, while one of the dinner-jacketed men closed the door.
Then one of the deputies said: "I believe this gentleman is carrying a gun."
He had his own revolver out and had it pointed at Howley's middle. "Carrying a concealed weapon is illegal in this city," he went on. "I'm afraid we'll have to search you."
Howley didn't object. He put his hands up high and stood there while his pockets were frisked.
"Well, well," said the deputy coolly. "What on Earth is this?"
It was Howley's gadget, and the dial still pointed to Thirteen--Black, Odd, and Low.
* * * * *
The next morning, I went down to the jail in response to a phone call from Howley. The special deputies had turned him over to the city police and he was being held "under suspicion of fraud." I knew we could beat that down to an "attempt to defraud," but the object was to get Howley off scott-free. After Howley told me the whole story, I got busy pushing the case through. As long as he was simply being held on suspicion, I couldn't get him out on bail, so I wanted to force the district attorney or the police to prefer charges.
Meanwhile, I made sure that Howley's gadget had been impounded as evidence. I didn't want anyone fiddling with it before the case went to court--except, of course, the D. A. and his men. There wasn't much I could do to keep it out of their hands.
After throwing as much weight around as I could, including filing a petition for a writ of habeas corpus with Judge Grannis, I went over to Howley's hotel with a signed power of attorney that Howley had given me, and I got a small envelope out of the hotel safe. It contained a baggage check.
I went over to the bus depot, turned over the check to the baggage department, and went back to my office with a small suitcase. I locked myself in and opened the case. Sure enough, it contained three dozen of the little gadgets.
Then I sat down to wait. By noon, Judge Grannis had issued the writ of habeas corpus, and, rather than release Jason Howley, the police had booked him, and District Attorney Thursby was getting the case ready for the grand jury. There was over a quarter of a million dollars at stake, and the men behind the Golden Casino were bringing pressure to bear. If Howley wasn't convicted, they'd have to give him his money--and that was the last thing they wanted to do. A quarter of a million bucks isn't small potatoes, even to a gambling syndicate.
It wasn't until early on the morning of the third day after Howley's arrest that I got a tip-off from one of my part-time spies. I scooped up the phone when it rang and identified myself.
"Counselor? Look, this is Benny." I recognized the voice and name. Benny was one of the cabbies that I'd done favors for in the past.
"What's the trouble, Benny?"
"Oh, no trouble. I just got a little tip you might be interested in."
"Fire away."
"Well, the D.A. and some of his boys went into the Golden Casino about ten minutes ago, and now they're closin' up the place. Just for a little while, I understand. Hour, maybe. They're chasin' everyone out of the roulette room."
"Thanks, Benny," I said, "thanks a lot."
"Well, I knew you was working on that Howley case, and I thought this might be important, so I--"
"Sure, Benny. Come by my office this afternoon. And thanks again."
I hung up and started moving.
Within ten minutes, I was pulling up and parking across the street from the Golden Casino. I locked the car and dodged traffic to get across the street, as though I'd never heard of laws against jaywalking.
There were still plenty of people in the Casino. The bar was full, and the dice and card games were going full blast. The slot machines were jingling out their infernal din while fools fed coins into their insatiable innards.
But the roulette room was closed,