LH’S LEGACY, by Rochelle Campbell
1009 Words
LH’S LEGACY, BY ROCHELLE CAMPBELLHe took two drags on his stogie. The posh surrounding was beginning to grate on his nerves. He was down two grand and just put up two more; the two he borrowed from Lefty to tide him over until he got a gig.
Shit.
Lefty, across from him, flicked down a pair of ladies.
It took all of his willpower not to reach over and snatch back his money. But this wasn’t that kind of party. Here, everything was played by the rules. Nice and pat.
Damn. My first real game since I got out of the joint and it had to be a privy Strip invite-only game.
“Are you in or out?” asked the dealer.
Lefty shifted in his seat and sent Hefty a Don’t-make-me-regret-I-got-you-invited look.
Stan “Hefty” Beaumont didn’t bother to glare back.
Damnit! How the hell am I going to survive for the next month? I can’t go back to the Big House. I just can’t!
A single drop of sweat rolled from under his spunky purple fedora down his neck. Hefty didn’t think anyone noticed, but leaned back a bit to stop the errant water from flowing further down his back. That’s when he remembered his ace in the hole.
While incarcerated, Little Hands a.k.a. LH, one of his block mates, told him about a scam he pulled on a rich dame that he’d off’d a bit too soon and got caught because of his hastiness. The part of the scam that Hefty liked was how LH painstakingly created a tunnel in the thickest part of the heel of his shoe. That’s where he burrowed the extra slim scalpel in a fiberglass lined slot that he covered with an undistinguishable plug of material similar to the shoe’s sole.
With all of that preparation, LH killed the broad, grabbed the money and forgot to put the murder weapon in its hiding place and left it at the scene of the crime!
Hefty seized upon the idea; he figured if he created a secret slot like that for an Ace or a Joker if he ever got in a bind he could ease out the surefire card and walk away with none the wiser.
To keep his mind occupied during the six months before his parole date, Hefty worked out the schematics of how to construct the slot in the sole of a shoe, what the proper height of the heel should be, the width and which material would be best. All this he worked out knowing that a day like today would inevitably happen.
“In? Or out?” the dealer asked testily.
Hefty took off his fedora, set it on his lap and brought the left foot of his purple suede and alligator shoes with the customized midnight blue rubber soles up a few inches. He cleared his throat as he brushed some imaginary dust from his pristine shoes, or so it looked to the others.
Hefty sighed heavily, stood up as if he were about to pack it in, shook his head in negation and banged his large hands onto the table jostling chips, money and shot glasses. Then said in a dejected tone, “In,” before dropping ungracefully back into his seat; his right hand was still on the table. The other well-dressed men grunted knowing the look and sound of resignation only too well. The dealer flicked a card towards Hefty.
Hefty moved quick, bending his head overly much in the process, so intent on the dealer’s card and the upcoming switch.
Only the guy on Hefty’s left cared when the hat fell, or so Hefty thought.
“Here, Bub,” he said tossing the fedora on the table. It landed on top of Hefty’s right hand the one that covered the card the dealer just dealt. Hefty’s mind and fingers moved quickly.
“Thanks, Charlie.”
Nimbly, Hefty slid the card the dealer gave him into his sleeve and picked up the hat with his left hand placing it back at its jaunty angle, then folded his arms across his chest.
He let a slow smile steal over his face when everyone stared at the table and saw his final hand.
He’d just won $20G’s.
Hefty felt the weight of the shocked stares as the tension in the room ratcheted up. Hefty kept his cool and refused to look anyone in the eye except the dealer. To him he nodded his thanks.
The dealer looked at Lefty, and the others and gave a slow nod. “That’s his win, fellas.”
With a gleam in his eye Hefty chomped down on his stoogie. He nodded to all in the room before taking up his winnings, pocketing the three large stacks of bills and leaving with a pep in his step.
Hefty knew that he’d better get rid of the switched-out card as soon as he got clear of the joint. He knew he should. But he just had to see what it was!
* * * *
Charlie’s eye twitched as he watched Hefty go. He had seen the stark naked fear in Hefty’s eyes. Saw the light of inspiration, followed by the wicked gleam of avarice in Hefty’s pale green eyes. Charlie knew something wasn’t right.
Too busy arranging to have Miss Dahlia’s best escort as his companion for the night, Hefty didn’t bother to throw away the card, much less check what it was on his way home. He waited until he was fully checked into the penthouse suite, then waited a bit more until well after the bellhop was tipped before he pulled the card out of his sleeve. Some part of him enjoyed the sweet torture.
It was an Ace!
Hefty roared with laughter at the irony of it. He would have won, anyway! He grinned on his way to the bathroom, finally intent on destroying the evidence.
There was a knock at the door. Feeling invincible, he shoved the card in his trouser pocket and went to answer the knock. Two hotel security guards were there along with Charlie, who said, “Check his pockets!”
Charlie had a nasty knowing grin on his face.
Hefty was frisked and they found the card and he heard those dreaded words, yet again, “You have the right to remain silent…”
- Writer
