Love's Wager

“Trust me,” Nina patted Miss E.’s hand. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“But isn’t carnaval associated with Mardi Gras and Lent?” Lydia asked.

“We can start a new tradition.” Nina wanted to shake things up a bit. Doing the same thing at the same time got old quickly. Nina’s success was that she could take old events and make them new in an entirely different way. She liked the title “Rio in Reno.” She envisioned a whole line of Rio-in-Reno events that would shake the foundations of the Casa de Mariposa.

Miss E. looked at Lydia. “I like it. I’ve always wanted to learn how to samba dance wearing one of those little, itty-bitty costumes with feathers.”

Lydia sighed. “Four months ago, I would have been scandalized.”

Nina grinned. “Miss E. has the body for it.”

Lydia and Miss E. burst into laughter and Nina found herself joining in. Miss E. would do it. The first time Nina had met her, she’d known that Miss E. was a spitfire who held nothing back.

“What would the grandchildren say?” Lydia said between giggles.

Miss E. fell back against the sofa cushions. “They’d love it, except maybe for Scott. He’s just too serious at times.” She patted Nina’s arm. “You need to loosen him up.”

“Me! Why me?” Nina didn’t think anything would loosen Scott’s inner serious.

“Because you, my dear, are fun.”

Nina’s laughter trailed away, uncertain what to make of Miss E. comment. She and Scott were fire and rocks. All the two of them would do was make lava and level a city.

* * *

Scott stood behind Gary White, pointing at the monitor. “Did you see that?”

Gary leaned forward, frowning slightly. “She’s Miles Dombrowsky’s granny.” Gary dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “She’s here all the time and just as sweet as can be.” Gary shrugged. “She’s harmless. Brings cookies sometimes.”

“Harmless?” Scott said. “She’s stealing wallets.” He eyed Gary, telling himself not to snarl at the man. Gary may have worked security in this casino for nearly ten years, but he didn’t seem to know a thing about security. Or maybe he did, but was willing to let certain things slide because she was related to another employee.

“I’ll call Miles and have him pick her up.” Gary reached for his cell phone.

“I don’t think so.” Age was the greatest cover Scott had ever seen. Who would suspect a little old lady of being a thief who looked like she’d melt a heart of stone?

The elderly woman held a huge black tote and wore an oversize black hat with droopy pink flowers. She leaned over a man sitting at a slot machine, not quite touching him. Her hand moved so quickly Scott almost blinked. The little old lady was good with smooth, unhurried movements. If he hadn’t been watching, expecting her next move, he might have missed it.

The elderly woman shuffled away. She moved out of the range of one security camera and into the next one. She stood in the center of the aisle between the rows of chiming slots, one hand to her chin, her eyes assessing the guests on stools in front of the machines.

Scott shook his head. Time to stop her. He spoke into the mic alerting the two security guards on the floor and told them to pick her up and bring her to the interview room. He watched as the two guards approached her and gently took her by the arm, ushering her discreetly from the floor.

Scott left the control room and headed for the interview room. A minute later, Michaelson and Turner brought her in.

“Take your hands off me, young man. How dare you manhandle me! I’ve been a loyal customer of this casino for over twenty-five years.”

Scott simply smiled. “Please sit down.” He pulled a chair out for her.

“You can’t keep me here.” She sat gingerly on the very edge of the chair, placing her tote on the table. “I’ve done nothing wrong.” Her lower lips quivered. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and a tiny sob caught in her throat. “Why have you brought me here? I was minding my own business.”

What a performance, Scott thought. He sat across from her smiling politely.

The woman was tiny, barely five feet tall, with delicate bone structure, a broad face, blue eyes and gray hair tucked tight inside the hat. A few wisps escaped and danced around her ears. She wore a plain gray dress belted at the waist, a gold watch on one wrist and a gold band on her left ring finger. Makeup, applied with expert skill, softened her face. He figured she was somewhere in her seventies, but a well-preserved seventies.

“I’ve got you on the monitor with your hand in a man’s pocket.”

“He was my grandson.” She gave a shrug.

“No, he wasn’t. Would you tell me your name?”

She lifted her chin into the air. “No comment.”

He kept his voice soft and gentle. “Please, just tell me your name?”

“No.” She stared stonily at him, her light blue eyes alive with amusement. She was enjoying herself. “You can’t prove I’ve done anything wrong.”

Scott rested his elbows on the table pretending to consider her comment. When he stood, he accidentally knocked her tote to the floor. Half a dozen wallets spilled out of the tote across the carpet.

The woman glanced down. “Those aren’t mine.”

“I know they aren’t.” He picked up the wallets and glanced inside each one.

“I don’t know how those wallets got into my tote. They must have jumped in. Or someone else put them there. I’m being framed.” She gave him a guileless look as though daring him to prove her wrong.

He opened a woman’s wallet. Inside was a driver’s license with her photo. Marina Dombrowsky. “Dombrowsky. Is that Polish?”

“Russian,” she snapped, attempting to snatch the wallet out of his hand. He held it away from her.

“I see.” He glanced at Turner. “I have a Miles Dombrowsky who works night security. That’s an unusual enough name. Are you related to him?” He asked even though he already knew.

She pressed her lips together refusing to answer. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. She knew he’d caught her red-handed, but she wasn’t about to give an inch.

“Ms. Dombrowsky,” he coaxed.

“Mrs. Dombrowsky,” she snapped. “Married fifty-five years, God bless his miserly old soul, and gone these last three.”

“Mrs. Dombrowsky,” he corrected. “I’m going to do you a favor.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of favor?”

“I’m going to return all these wallets to their owners, no questions asked. You will be escorted from the building. Should I see your face here again, I’ll be calling the Reno PD and turning you over to them.”

She looked him straight in the eye with a defiant gleam. “Do your worst.”

Scott smiled. “It’s on, lady.”

She sat straight in the chair, her gaze never leaving his face. He removed his cell phone and held it up. “Smile,” he said and snapped a photo.

The flash blinded her and she blinked rapidly for a second. He sent the photo to his computer. He’d send it to everyone working security—the casino’s own most-wanted list. “Now, I have your face for posterity. Trust me...” he pointed at her, feeling a little guilty for manhandling a little old lady “...I will not forget you ever.”