Tumblin' Dice by John McFetridge

Morons.”
    â€œI like the part,” Nugs said, “where they don’t say what gangs, what it’s about.”
    â€œThey got Dickie’s name up fast enough,” Gayle said. “None of that waiting to notify the next of kin.” Using an old mug shot, saying he was known to police. “I hate the way the TV and the cops work together. Look, making sure they get a clear shot of his body, nobody in the way.”
    â€œListen to him,” Danny said, “talking about all the video cameras in the stores. They might get a good look at the gunmen. I like that they call them gunmen.” They’d already shown interviews with witnesses, none of them giving their names, most of them more interested in the ETF guys and the cops, crime scene guys, so many all over the street. A couple people said they saw a guy wearing a baseball hat walk up to the car, shoot the driver, walk away. A few other people said it was two guys wearing hoodies, some other people said the shots came from another car.
    â€œWas a good hit,” Nugs said, and Danny said, oh yeah, those fucking Nealon brothers know what they’re doing — they’re back on the reserve by now, like they never left.
    Nugs said, “We’re meeting them on Friday up at Huron Woods.”
    Gayle said, “Frank’s coming down tonight, making the pick-up.” She watched Nugs nod, knowing he still didn’t like the idea she was in on everything, this one practically her deal alone. Shit, she’d known Nugs for twenty-five years, but most of that time him and Danny Mac and O.J. and the rest of the Rebels were small-time dope dealers, maybe some truck hijacking, a little B&E and stealing cars, all behind their motorcycle shops, garages, and strip clubs. Gayle was the only wife or girlfriend — old lady made her laugh — that knew the real business, and she’d taken over all of Danny’s legit fronts and made money with them, too.
    She’d watched pretty closely, gotten a little involved, and when the Saints of Hell out of Montreal joined up with the big boys in California and romanced and muscled the rest of the bikers in Canada into giving up their renegade ways and coming on board, she was right there. A few other wives and girlfriends were around as long, and they sure liked the new big money the patch-over brought, but they had nothing to do with business. Gayle liked it, she was doing more now than Danny, and Nugs knew it. She figured maybe that’s what pissed him off.
    But he liked the big money, too, saying, “How much you giving him?”
    Gayle looked at Danny and saw he wasn’t about to say anything so she said, “Half a mil to start. He’s got a nice operation at that casino, can clean it good.”
    â€œHe have any idea what he’s doing?”
    â€œHe’s the one out front,” Gayle said. “If he doesn’t, it’s on him.”
    â€œStill,” Nugs said, “seems a little late in the game for this guy Frank to be changing teams.”
    Danny was still looking at the TV , so Gayle said, “Well, I bet he doesn’t think it’s that late,” and Nugs said, yeah, that’s true, “Who ever does?”
    Gayle thinking, yeah, right, something I’ll have to keep an eye on, for sure.
    Nugs said, “I notice they don’t say anything about Dickie talking to cops, being an informant.”
    â€œNot a fucking word,” Danny said. “Not a word.”
    Gayle thought about saying, well, he just started, hasn’t really even given them that much, maybe these homicide cops don’t even know. She was looking at the big-shouldered one, his grey suit silver in the right light and his tie silk, talk to the camera and she thought maybe he was a light-skinned black guy, had what looked like a crewcut, short black hair standing straight up, no curl in it at all. He was saying something about how they’d find the