Riley Mack and the Other Known Troublemakers by Chris Grabenstein

Author:Chris Grabenstein [Grabenstein, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-04-10T07:00:00+00:00

26

ABOUT 150 MILES TO THE south, Chip Weitzel found a quiet corner and placed his telephone call.

“Hello?”

“Maddie?” Cough, cough. “Chip Weitzel.” Cough, cough.

“You don’t sound so good,” said Mrs. Mack.

“Yeah. I know.” Cough. Cough. “Sorry to be calling you this late on a Sunday night, but I’m gonna need to take a sick day tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

“Thanks. I think it’s just a bug. One of those twenty-four-hour deals. Should be fine by Tuesday.”

Or sooner, he thought, if my luck changes!

“Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need any medicines picked up at the drugstore? Chicken soup?”

“No. I’ve got everything I need here. Thanks. But tomorrow morning, I need you to fill in for me at the bank.”

“Oh-kay,” Mrs. Mack said hesitantly.

“Don’t worry. It’s not much extra work. Just need you to open up at eight. Turn on the lights.”

“Well, I think I can do that.” She sounded relieved.

“Of course, you’ll need to go in the back door.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“And you’ll need the security code. Do you have a pen and a piece of paper?”

“Hang on.”

He gave her a second. Glanced over to the flashing lights of the casino floor.

“All right,” said Mrs. Mack. “I’m all set.”

“Good. Write this down, memorize the code, and then eat the paper.”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“That was a joke, Maddie.”

“Oh.”

“You really don’t have to eat it. Just destroy it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, here we go: two-two-two, three-three-three, four-four-four. Got it?”

“Two-two-two, three-three-three, four-four-four.”

Sure, it was a simple code, but Chuck Weitzel was a busy man; he didn’t have time to memorize a complex string of numbers.

“And Maddie? I’d appreciate it if I wasn’t disturbed tomorrow. Need to get my rest.”

“We won’t bother you. I promise.”

“Thanks. My apologies again for calling so late. I know it’s a school night. Riley’s probably already asleep, huh?”

“Actually, he’s off on a field trip with some friends. They’re working on an astronomy project.”

“Good for him. Well, I better crawl into bed.”

“Feel better.”

“Thanks.” Cough. Cough. “I’ll try.”

Weitzel powered off his phone.

It would take a miracle for him to feel better.

For the first time since he launched his Casino Based Investment Strategy, he was down. Losing. Having one of those cold streaks all the gamblers who weren’t savvy bankers constantly whined about.

And it was all on account of that greedy police chief!

After he had given John Brown the ten-thousand-dollar “small business loan” out of his personal funds, the money stored in his secret safe had shrunk from fifty to forty thousand dollars—a very unhealthy 20 percent dip.

So, Sunday morning, he had grabbed the remaining money, stuffed it all into a briefcase, and brought it three hours south to Atlantic City, New Jersey. It wasn’t Vegas, but it was closer and had roulette wheels just like they had out in Nevada.

Only, for some reason, the New Jersey roulette wheels didn’t spin the same way as the ones out in Vegas.

Instead of winning, Chip kept losing.

In fact, he was down to his last one thousand dollars.

Fortunately, the forty thousand dollars came out of his profits column; it wasn’t the bank’s money.

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