The Lisbon Crossing by Tom Gabbay Page A

Grimes?”
    “He disappeared a couple of weeks ago. Same night as your detective friend. That’s why Ritter’s here. To get to the bottom of it.” Harry swallowed the last of his brandy, but I could see that he was watching me over the lip of the glass.
    “Why would Ritter think this guy’s disappearance had anything to do with Grimes?”
    “Haven’t the slightest,” Harry said. “Care to hazard a guess?”
    “Not really.”
    “He’s probably just fishing—so to speak.” He slid off his chair,catching his balance on the bar. “You’ll have to let me know how it turns out. Nice talking to you, Jack, but I think I’ll go home now. I feel I’ll be falling over soon and I’d like to be near my bed when it happens.”
    “Don’t miss,” I said.
    “Ta-ta.” He winked and wove his way toward the exit. Likable guy, I thought. For a reporter.
     
    “W ould you like to play, senhor?”
    I wasn’t sure that I’d understood the man in the elegant gray suit. He spoke in a polished, but almost inaudible baritone voice.
    “Excuse me?” I said.
    “Would you like to draw chips?” he clarified. I was about to politely decline when he added, “You may sign for them on Miss Sterne’s account.”
    “In that case,” I said, “why not?”
    “Will one thousand be sufficient?”
    “A thousand?”
    “Yes, senhor. Will that be sufficient?”
    “I guess it’ll get me started,” I said.
    “Very well. What is your preference?”
    “Sorry?”
    “Your game. Which game do you prefer to play?”
    “Oh, I guess I’ll try my luck at the wheel.”
    He nodded and placed a voucher and a gold pen on the bar.
    “Sign there and I will have the chips ready for you at this table.” He nodded toward a table in the far corner, and I signed on the dotted line.
    “I wish you good luck, senhor,” he said as he pocketed the chit and disappeared.
    I polished off my drink and wandered over to find an empty chair and two neat piles of fifty-dollar chips waiting for me. There were six players around the table. An old broad dolled up in a Victorian eveninggown was the only one to acknowledge me with a nod and a wisp of a smile. She must’ve had ten grand sitting in front of her, and twice that decorating her earlobes. I guessed she was a local and a regular customer. Next to her was a banker type—bald, midfifties, fat, and boring. He had a sour look that said he was losing big-time. Not much of interest there, aside from the five-star bimbo he had waiting in the wings. On my left was a fidgety fellow who stayed on his feet, leaning across the board, dropping chips like they were too hot to handle. To my right was a man in sunglasses who was leaning back in his chair, ignoring the action. Asleep maybe, but I wasn’t sure. A more-than-middle-aged Russian countess, or so I imagined, rounded out the group.
    I lit a cigarette and dropped a couple of chips on numbers twenty-one and twelve, for no particular reason. I soon remembered why I never spent time at the wheel. It’s a guessing game, no better than playing the numbers. My chips started disappearing as quickly as they’d appeared, and by the time Lili snuck up behind me, I was down seven hundred and change.
    “First you abandon me to Don Juan, then you throw away my money like it’s pennies from heaven. Tell me again why I brought you with me.” She’d apparently consumed enough Dom Pérignon to get me out of that doghouse.
    “Must be my irresistible charm.”
    “I’m managing to resist.”
    “Lover boy go home?” I asked. Lili raised an eyebrow and tossed her head back over her shoulder to have a peek.
    “I think I lost him.” She ignored the man in sunglasses, who was awake now and ogling her.
    “Shall we go out the back way?” I suggested.
    “You’d know all about that, I suppose.”
    “It has its advantages.”
    She picked up a chip, fiddled with it. “What about Eva?”
    “Nothing definite,” I said. “I might know more tomorrow.” She gave me a