My cell phone buzzed. It was Hank Roberts, an Army buddy from Nam. "What's up, Hank? You still hustling real estate in the Valley?"
"Hi, Joe. Matter of fact I am-and doing well. How are you?"
"I'm fine and dandy. So what's up? You didn't call just to inquire about my health."
"Ah, you're so perceptive, Joe. You're right; I'm calling on you as a poker expert."
"Not confusing me with Mike Caro, are you?"
"Hell, I don't even know him, but you have more poker savvy than anyone I do know."
"My dubious credentials aside, what's this all about?"
"We've got a poker club and play at each other's houses. It's $5/10/20 games, but a guy can lose a thou or more on a bad night. That's not the problem; we're all pretty well heeled. But what's happening recently, one of the guys is consistently winning. He used to be the schmuck, but all of a sudden he's golden. The last couple months, I don't think he's had a losing night."
"You think he's cheating?"
"Let's say I'm damn suspicious. Funny thing though, he shows us poker books, tells how he's learning all these techniques. Think that's possible?"
"Well...possible, but I'd be suspicious, too. The books could be a ruse..."
I paused, waiting. "Is that it, Hank? You gonna let me get back to my nap?"
"All I'm askin' is for you to come to one of our games and check him out."
"Aw, Hank. I don't know. I probably can't tell you anything."
"But you'll try. Won't you, Joe?"
No matter if my prospects were nil. What mattered- we were buddies.
"Yeah, I'll give it a shot."
"Great. Can you make it tomorrow night? And listen, were short two players. You can bring Hobby."
"I don't know about Hobby, but I'll be there."
Hobby was game and darned if he didn't make a great suggestion.
"Why don't we stop at the Bike and have Charlie give us tips on how to spot cheaters?"
"Brilliant, Hobby. I'll give him a call."
Charlie's an old timer who's been working poker rooms since I was a kid. He knows every trick ever invented to give a player an advantage. Hobby and I took his Cheating 101 crash course. In a little more than an hour Charlie showed us card manipulations, card marking, and various gadgets used for sneaking a peek.
"That's about all I can teach you in such a short time. If this guy's an amateur, you might catch him."
Hank was standing in his driveway when we arrived. He was the host for the evening.
"Thanks for coming, guys. I hope you can help. You might even make a buck playing with us local yokels. I didn't tell the guys you're into poker- big time; just said you were an old Army buddy. Glad you came early. I'll show you around."
"So, who's this guy you want us to watch?"
"I've been thinking about that, Joe-I don't want to prejudice your thinking, so-I'd rather not say. How 'bout you just check out everyone, see if there's any hanky-panky."
"Whatever you say, Hank. Hobby and I'll keep our eyes open, but no promises. We're not experts at this sort of thing."
"You say that Joe, but I've got a lot of faith in you."
"Yeah, sure...and I see you're still suffering from shell shock."
The guys seemed to be playing fair, but early on I had my suspicions about a wimpy guy named Jerry. I was almost certain he was using a shiner to see the underside of cards being dealt. This is a slender prism-like device hidden under an arched hand. It's most effective against dealers across the table from the cheat. It has the effect of putting the peeking eyes at the level of the felt. The way he was looking intently through the fingers of his cupped hand was a giveaway.
When we took a pizza break, Hobby and I huddled with Hank in the garage.
"What do you think, Hobby," I asked.
"I've spotted him; I'm sure."
"Me, too. Is it Jerry you suspected, Hank?" I asked.
"Jerry?" Hobby interrupted.
"No. It's the big guy, Chris, in the red shirt!"
"What the hell! Don't tell me there's two of them," Hank gasped.
Hobby and I agreed to signal if we confirmed our suspicions. Then we had to catch them with the goods.
I'd concentrate on Jerry and Hobby would cover Chris. We wanted to get them into the garage before they could ditch their hardware.
When we were ready, I nodded to Hank.
"I heard something in the garage, guys. I'll be right back," Hank said. A minute later he shouted, "Chris and Jerry, can you give me a hand?"
As they headed for the garage, Hobby and I brought up the rear. When I shut the door behind me, Chris looked around suspiciously and said.
"What the hell's going on, Hank?"
"We've got a problem," Hank answered. "You guys have been cheating."
"That's bullshit," Chris shouted.
"It's not bullshit," I said. "You've got a shiner in your pocket. You too, Jerry. Hand it over."
Jerry looked sheepish, guilt written across his puss. He gave it up to Hank and moaned a pitiful, "I'm sorry."
Chris wasn't about to cooperate. "You're wrong about me and I'm leaving."
Hobby stood squarely between him and the door.
Chris is a big guy. When he swept his forearm across Hobby's chest to brush him aside he had no idea what he was getting into. Hobby grabbed his wrist and elbow, spun him around, and splayed him on the floor.
"Check his jacket pocket, Hank, I saw him put it there," Hobby said. It was identical to the shiner Jerry used.
Jerry was blubbering and practically in tears. "What are you going to do?" he asked.
Hank said, "For openers, you two are finished with us, but you owe me and the other guys you've been cheating. It may not be enough, but you're both going to pay two thou to each of us. If you don't, your names will be dog shit in this town. Now get out of here!"
When they left I said to Hobby, "I just love it when you do your karate thing."
"Actually, it was an Akito move. It's called oh te shaku..."
"Enough, Hobby. Spare me the nomenclature. Let me just enjoy the moment."
"Yeah, I get it, Joe. It's kind of a Zen thing."
"No, Hobby. You're too deep into Eastern mysticism. This is just good ol' fashion satisfaction when the bad guys get their asses kicked."
